Fingers Poems | Examples

Color In Your Fingers

A sketchbook from back then
was stained with abstract colors
like our ten fingers
why didn't we arrange bright colors back then?
black, blue, and white
mixed together without a basis
I remember very well
how the pattern was ultimately
ruined by the darkness
while you labored
on your own sketch
and I only knew a little about that fetish

We grew like shoots
far away from the colors back then
like a line that had been etched
sometimes we disappeared

I still live with bangs on my forehead
exactly the same as back then
and you still like classic cars?
maybe we've only gone a few steps

Count 20, open eyes
ahh, that's just a coincidence
I still scold Wednesday
but you look good
with those stripes

Sometimes you give in
waiting for me to run awkwardly across
you strummed that music
making me confused
guessing your dream last night
but you were far more confused
because you didn't say anything

Do you still remember
the flaw in my eye?
While I was still writing poetry
I seemed to be starting to forget the calm
shape of your Adam's apple 
when you drew black lines on our sketch.

A Diamond of Joy

                   Fingers
               Long, slender
      Tapping, painting, holding  
Creating tiny canvases for my niece
      Pinking, twinkling, glittering 
             Tiny, cherished
                    Nails

It's Rude To Point

What's wrong with them Americuns
forever pointing fingers
always pointing guns
searching for someone to blame
never changes
stays the same
with 'Love thy neighbour,'
and 'Thou shalt not kill,'
religious to the core
hypocrites to boot
and what's more
shooting people children too
wondering why innocent die
and yet they haven't got a clue

Love Lingers in the Air

I can still feel your lips on mine,
And your fingers tangled in my hair.
I still smell your sweet perfume—
It lingers softly in the air.

It’s as if you're with me every hour,
As if your love gives my heart its power.
As if I’ve known you a thousand years—
And would fall for you again through joy and tears.

Won’t you please listen to what I say?
These words come straight from deep inside—
They sing of how I long for you,
Where love and hope and truth abide.

My love for you can't be denied,
It's steadfast, deep, and ever strong.
It won’t fade, won’t drift away—
It will last my whole life long.

Last night was the very first time
I knew my love was real and true.
The memory is burned into my soul—
The memory of you.

I can still feel your lips on mine,
And your fingers tangled in my hair.
I still smell your sweet perfume—
It lingers softly in the air.

Telephonic

Whatever happened to the telephone book
enquiring minds need to know
there hasn't been one here for years
so wherever did it go
and what about the telephone box
or the answer machine
I haven't seen either near it's clear
they're few and far between
they went the way of the dodo
long before their time
as not everyone owns a mobile phone
and no you may not use mine
we used to flip the pages
let our fingers do the walking
but now with not a lot to say
there's way too far much talking

Telephonic

Whatever happened to the telephone book
enquiring minds need to know
there hasn't been one here for years
so wherever did it go
and what about the telephone box
or the answer machine
I haven't seen either near it's clear
they're few and far between
they went the way of the dodo
long before their time
as not everyone owns a mobile phone
and no you may not use mine
we used to flip the pages
let our fingers do the walking
but now with not a lot to say
there's way too far much talking

A digital farce, we still count fingers!

Before the chip, before binary code,
Before clocks showed in digital time mode,
Stood an ancient man with furrowed brow
Trying to track time and count numbers in a row.

He stared at stars, watched the sun,
He devised how to count when time had begun,
Using the flanges of his fingers one by one,
Counting seconds, minutes, days, and months done. 

He counted numbers digitally on his hands.
One to five, six to ten, on which his pointer lands.
Strange that all our digital devices and displays.
Remembers the term 'counting with fingers' still plays.

Evolution

Once we were hunter-gatherers
tribes grouped outdoors
before the days of yore
now we're hunt and peckers
each cooped indoors
on personal computer keyboards
and way back when
we'd communicate
banging on the drums
yes since then
we've progressed
today we're all
fingers and thumbs

Play with Fire Till Your Fingers Burn

           ~Play With Fire Till your Fingers Burn~
                      5/20/2025

Experience life to its full brink,so sad, to witness any human, being had!
Just try to be a mirror of them, it will drive you  uncontrollaby mad!
The world is the jelly bowl, of jellybeans who just all shine and conform.
And yes, they will step on you, if you are not of their norm.
They’ll run from your space, they won’t talk to you!
As if you were an insane specimen from an abnormal zoo!


To be like all the others, is like a living death, all of your days!
Because what you’ve done, is live in fear, and given your precious soul away..
Just write poetry and make love with lif, and play  with fire,vool, .and 
Let your fingers  type with joy,and fully burn.
They shall never experience life on their timid, lifeless, terms.

You might even find yourself, rarely read.
That is a great sign, go bake a loaf of fresh f.aromatic, cinnamon bread!
I don’t want to find anyone being a jelly bean poet!
If you are a real poet, the first thing to do is to write a lot of the
of the invincible you, with immense courage, please do show it!

            Thank you! Outstanding Poets!

interlocked fingers

tentative outreach
heartbeat ignites yearning love
her soft hand clasps mine

nimble fingers

nimble fingers
crafting creases pleats and tucks
paper musings

Cocoa Fingers, Sweet

Cocoa fingers, choco treats 
every bite a crunch  
Mid way to my mouth the zing  
makes me want to shout ! 
Taste buds all in flight 
here we go, 
Sweeeeeeeet !

A High Fivefold Dive

Count your fingers and toes!
It's five that drives betides!
For our minds can't juggle
More than five at once.
Can't grip, grasp sense - six.

How we sense and perceive,
Also comes in five flavors.
Touch, sight, smell, taste, hearing,
Which constrains, contorts our thoughts,
Into believing we know what's
Right, true, all so insightful!

But, why or why five?
Has ego, fear, doubt, desire
Succumbed to fingers and toes?
So we can't go further
Than a high fivefold dive?

Little Fingers

From the time that he’s awake 
his little fingers start to quake 
posting lies to suit his needs 
planning out his dirty deeds 

Wide awake in dead of night
planning out new cons for spite
making out a target list
balling-up his tiny fist

Counting up his many foes
using fingers, tiny toes
fueled by hate and bigotry
led by greed and trickery

With the snap of my fingers

suddenly i felt
a burst of warmth
as if liberated
i had the wings to fly
entwined as one
in perfect harmony
together in synchronicity
with the universe


AP: Honorable Mention 2025

• Short Fingers Poems
• Famous Fingers Poems
• Best Fingers Poems
• Read Fingers Poems
• Long Fingers Poems
• Fingers Quotes