Handfuls Poems | Examples

letting go, just

I watch him
gathering days in arms,
like handfuls of sand,
spilling, pouring, 
into an hour-glass
with never a grain lost.

His voice, once sweet and melodious,
cracked, 
now fed on adult's breath.
His steps impress, they sink deeper into the dirt,
confident and sure-footed with knowing.

He no longer looks back
to make sure I’m still 
there to care and watch.
In fact, 
his furtive glance away, 
shows I'm about to become 
somewhat of an embarrassment to him
when in company of his friends and mates,
though he's too kind, good and shy to admit it.

So I just, let him go,
just stand and watch
at a distance, 
when I can,
amazed at what 
my son has become,
when let go to grow.

Hillary Hears a Who!

Hillary Hears a Who!

Who is an Amma slam?
One who Gives a Damn,
Just ask Melli,
Or Will, Sam or Ellie,
Our Hill who’s True Blue not Glam!

Who has a swell Quill?
Arrows that instill ,
Handfuls of Humor,
Armfuls of Amour,
Our Hil is not Over the Hillery!

Who keeps an All Size Zoo?
Variety of Color & Hue,
Hillary’s Gorillary,
Ants from Aunt Hill aka Hillary,
Empathetic Hillary Hears a Who!

The Marketplace

“The Marketplace”

Today the marketplace is open.
Ready with crisp linens for handfuls of gold.
Hordes of buyers stomp the asphalt
scurrying by and through to the next.
I have worn my smile.

My hair is wind-born.
smelling of burnt amber and roses.
My dress, summer silk, covers my flesh - 
Tones like island-bronze.
And I have worn my smile.

I banter over prices, politely.
Others haggle, fussing, who is next.
I, alone in my company, solo with passing
memories of your hands on my face.
I show everyone my smile.

Evening approaches, hushing the buzz of the crowd.
Memories of you sink into the dark...
falling with my head upon my pillow.
I remember walking the marketplace with you
and how you made me smile.

The vanishing Olive trees of Puglia

Ongoing rows of trees 
branches reaching binding 
crawling braiding trunks of 
olive trees capturing my senses 
warm breeze glides down my 
spine the ripened forestry handfuls 
delightful ripeness historic scenery 
as I mastered the monopoli landings 
the essence of extra virgin oils pour 
to perfection stored in tins we carry 
them between the lemon zest aroma 
of the countryside an afternoon filled 
with pacifying my fancy with a charming 
pinot noir settling down between the 
largest tree trunks split into from thousands 
of years of draping olives trees throughout 
the hillside magnificent magnitude strength 
balancing heritage while embracing culture
saving the old country the vanishing Puglia

Planting Seeds

leaves in trembling hues of bronze and gold, fall gently to the earth, where they’ll leave a carpet of crunching truths, blessings in beautiful ~ by poet

walking in silence, on the edge of twilight
subtle sighs, singing, stirring serenity
remembering the joy found on a still night

autumn’s descant, hints at my identity
blazing grace, richest praise in pastoral pulls
perfect hope in breaths of fall’s amenity

planting seeds of grace as we don our soft wools
while harvest reveals what colors hearts gentle
in aching arms, gathering crops in handfuls

blazing leaves, tremble and praise, sentimental
erasing the tears from souls mourning summer
fall’s splendor is hardly temperamental 

oaks rest where majesty is the newcomer
falling in shadows who truly become her

THE FOUR ELEMENTS OF NATURE

    

Whistling air
burning fire
running water,
waiting earth...
water with earth, clay,
water with air, foam,
fire with water, water
very warm...
Air with air, flute,
earth with earth, garden,
fire with fire, love,
water with water, agauceiro...
Just four essences,
four sweet handfuls
and a cauldron...
The universe has already been
 perfumed with magnolias... !

Transcription in translation of a poem by
the great Argentine writer/poet
Liliana Bodoc.

At Winters End

Rise Up
ryes on the rise
with soothing flours
and Spring flowers
Rise Up
with handfuls
of caraway seeds
at Winters End
all your cares will cease
Rise up
ryes on the rise
the aroma of sunrise
the butter
on your bread
Rise up
to toast and jam
dancing
through your mourning
for scripture says
Joy cometh in the morning
Rise up and kneel
before the King
ryes on the rise
with resurrected flowers
medallions of
daffodils, lilies and a memory stone
the heavy plank of death
rolled ‘way by chosen angels
Rise up
to a day reborn
beauty from ashes
blind eyes opened by faith
ryes on the rise
molasses-colorized
rose-colored glasses
not a lie
God cannot lie
Rise up
raise palms straight to the skies
Taste and see that the Lord is good
I’ll take a bite now
with thanksgiving
the whole loaf will last
forever and ever
opposite of
til death do you part
I will join the holy throng
as a seed planted
in eternal Spring
Rise up, y’all
meet the King of kings

Our salvation in the hands of doom

Arctic front just a little seems to much
A tolerance to something with no passion or no desire
To be that frozen bird on the wire
Burning purpose Burning reason 
reason to plant the greatest ideas 
A non-touch society bleeding out slowly
As they shape our mold 
To be a force or be a commune
Starving the less prepared 
Now their army they call us the  metronome 
Building their power forgetting humanity's moral disaster
Ambiguous though they left us no escape held hostage
Corporations traps us always fighting for food.
Panic it's out of their control
We the people
Hold all the cards
Watching the economy teeple
Expecting only handfuls to be still driving cars
I have been stuck in a black hole 
searching for ammo for my soul
Searching for camo 
Before gravity takes it's toll
Now it's 2066
They think home will be hit by some close encounter 
Some near Earth object is eyeing annihilation 
Apophis at 3.4km on 2029 sounds pretty close
Apophis Just go away we don't want you back

Ma’s Tree

Ma’s Tree

Bulbs, lights and tinsel
Ring memories 
Each bulb a treasure
That went on Ma’s Tree

Unpacked with kid gloves 
Like newborn baby’s
Kids dared not touch
Such fragility’s

Ma left the fun part
For all of us kids
Like licking the spoon
Us kids dug right in

Handfuls of tinsel
Were flung on Ma’s tree
Topped with her angel
High up on it’s peak 

Bill MacEachern December 17, 2023

Christmas Tree

"Children full of giggles, dance in excitement around the Christmas tree, a camera captures the moment." Quote by poet

The emerging day, a crisp fresh white nature 
exemplifies early Christmas season.
Scent painted patterns of blue spruce, 
Scots pine and Nobel fir, so many shapes 
and sizes to pick from. 

Summer long gone; snow lies upon the ground.
Sun crowns the pinnacle emerald trees 
with each limb adorn with handfuls of snow. 
Along the way, a blue jay perched on a limb
shaking its tail feathers, a red robin alights and stares, 
making it easy to pick the perfect Christmas tree. 

Dressed in an armor of glimmering tensile, cranberry garland,
colorful lights, and a variety of glass ornaments on its branches,
and an angel, stands center stage atop of the tree.
Gifts wrapped in colorful Christmas wrapping, 
ribbons, and bows under the tree, a perfect cameo.

The Reaper

What you send out far, far into the Universe
Will return in the same wrapping you had used.
Why you opened your heart and perhaps purse
When you needn’t have, is what you’ve accrued.
Forget not that charity is an act that receives more
Than it gives; and kindness is wealth incalculable.
Your generous heart might be forbidden to soar,
But a selfless soul is a true treasure invaluable.
Hope can be a rose without thorns, with a scent divine.
Words can become pearls of love that offer solace.
Sow handfuls of altruistic acts with the cosmos to align.
Be a river that flows unhindered, spreading infinite bliss.
The reaper fills his basket with a harvest of loss or gain:
Would you rather have joy, or would you prefer pain?

How To Spend a Summer

The first inevitability of summer is
that your fingertips will never be clean
They will at all times be covered
in fruit juices
strawberries first, then cherries,
watermelon, peaches, blueberries, blackberries
pears and plums if you’re lucky

The only way to cleanse them is to
jump in a lake, sometimes a river
without pretense, whole body at once
in a way that is sure to get water up your nose,
really it’s unavoidable
But a fair trade for clean hands
and conscience

The second inevitability of summer is
that it never has the same number of days
as the calendar shows
Therefore, children have conspired amongst themselves 
to steal back handfuls at a time
from the night to counterbalance

I’ve done it once or twice myself
Old habits don’t seem to die for me
they just get harder to cover up
what with the sticky fingers and all

Acorns

When we kill a tree
Does a forest sigh
Rustle with grief that
One of them should die.
Is there apprehension,
Do the trees even hear,
The clinking clanking sound
As the felling gang draws near.

The real flowers of the world,
The lungs of the Earth,
Helping cleanse the air from
the moment of their birth.
Their beauty being replaced
By a much lesser scene
As we uproot the trees
To plant Soya bean.

Do the trees around the world
Hear the grieving crying
From swathes of woodland as
They sense their colleagues dying.
Will there be a memorial service
When they've killed the last tree
Will they follow into extinction
The last wild bee.

When the Earth is levelled
And sterile and neat
Under chamfered layers
Of reinforced concrete
And the air gets heavy
With every breath a chore
Each one less satisfying than
The one just gone before

Will we regret we didn't listen
To the almost silent pleas
That rustled through the branches
Carried by the last gentle breeze.
Will a silent protester
Surreptitiously sow
Handfuls of acorns to watch
New Oak saplings grow.

Good Luck, Charlie

If things keep goin’ my way, 
I don’t know what I’ll do
Maybe I’ll go be a priest 
in the Church of Déjà vu 
Maybe I’ll court a woman 
and go to Harvard for a degree
Maybe they’ll cast my carcass 
out from the infirmary

I remember what they always called me –
Good Luck Charlie
All advice stops here –
Good luck, Charlie

Yes and maybe we’re all just handfuls 
of what came before
And maybe the point of this game 
is not to caught
Inside the revolving door

I remember what they always called me –
Good Luck Charlie
All advice stops here –
Good luck, Charlie

Torch Lake Invasion

If gold coins and silver dollars
Could turn hollow and float
On the quivering skin of Torch Lake

July backstroke of jingle
Belly rings nipple rings
This would be it

Drowning Japanese Beetles
Tossed by handfuls to the surface water
From jewelry boxes kept by robbers

What better way to give it back?
Bringing justice to generations
Of those who’ve always wondered

What exactly happened to my keepsakes?

Sky
Lake
I am cut in half at my cold waist

Like a poor boy on a rural road
Who’s come across a tipped over Brinks truck
Coughing in the hot dust
Of swimming nickels and pennies

I look around

Then wade through my newfound riches
My beggar’s palms
Scoop up the reflections

Collect to the dock bits and pieces
Of the struggling metallic creatures
And wisps of cloud sun and wind

A stirring gaudy pile
Grows of second chances
To be picked over by my kids

Who say “Eweee. Yuck. and Beautiful.
Daddy
You are a pirate. Captain Bly!”

Ey
I don’t know why I do these little things
Saving these treasures

As coin by coin takes wing
Flies away
To my kids’ great wonder.

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