My Hands

My hands tightly closed to a fist again
The blood running
Pulsating
Wanting to draw out anger.

And it opened, lending a hand
The blood rushing
Anticipating
Wanting to draw out of happiness.

Then fell down, unwillingly
The blood flowing
Excruciating
Wanting to draw out pain.

Can’t help it, can’t stop
If these hands want to feel
The rush, the want
Of what it’s purposed to.

Once again…
…I penned.

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Beata Agustin

Date: 12/16/2024 5:07:00 AM

Thanks for sharing this... exposing your thoughts through your unique poetic style. Meanwhile, I greet you with the love of the Lord, expressed by John 3:16 of the Bible, "For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life." Be blessed.

Poet Destroyer A

Date: 3/23/2016 11:43:00 AM

this is a wonderful poem, Cherie.. LINDA

Skat A

Date: 1/15/2016 8:19:00 PM

Cherie, I like every line of your poem above. Thank you for sharing. ** SKAT **