Hands Poems - Poems about Hands

I'll be back before it gets dark after we get tired of playing king of the hill. Sun sets so late in summer against the willows.. sometimes I forget. No, it just isn't so. I don't always choose them over you, 'course I could never tell you that. You're a girl, a special one. But I can't tell you that...

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My mother’s hands never told me they love me. But when they touched me, all my wounds understood that love needs no words....

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This scene occurred just days before she died. Somehow I made it through before I cried. While pale and weak, eyes closed, in bed she lay, I thought of all the things I longed to say. I whispered “Beautiful" and kissed each hand. Confused, Mom said, "What? I don’t understand.” “Your HANDS,” I said. She answered, “They’re worn out and wrinkled. That’s...

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Your hands would bleed from endless days, Scrubbing floors to hide the stains. Three kids hungry, three kids cold — You broke yourself to keep us whole. The cupboards echoed, barely fed, But somehow we still had a bed. He drank the money, smashed the walls, Turned our nights to drunken brawls. I heard you cry, I heard him yell, I lived with you...

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She is always in a position of humility An attitude of prayer ...

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Pensee crafted in my spirit a sparkling jewel of worth dreams unspoken, hopes half-formed wait until another life? ...

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her hands did not turn on light bulbs. they were light bulbs, they were clay vessels through which flowed a light tired from too much godliness. when she entered the room, it wasn’t her who entered, it was a silence that had lost its voice in a burned temple, and had come searching for it inside me. the angel beneath the bed came out like a...

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First Steps Funerals and Nana's Hands By Evelyn Aimarie 2 days after my Nana's funeral My oldest son took his first steps. She was my grandmother on my father's side, but more like a mother to me. Palms textured like warm overwashed cotton sheets- thin but comfortable, and clothes line, spring sunshine soft. Pastel blue intricate barely visible veins whispered...

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In a rather egotistical and pathetic attempt to immortalize myself, in something I lost, everything. And now that I’ve burned all of my bridges and I’m drowning, the only thing I have left to do is work. And it's not working. And the only ones praising my work are little kids, the same age I was when I broke everything. Lucky me. I watch them do the same foolish things, reaching for...

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pleats and folds a winged makeover ~ sleight of hands AP: 3rd place 2025...

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Hands of wisdom Gone on to God’s Kingdom Guidance in understanding Knowing and sustaining Heaven on high The watch from Thy Encouragement that was broad My heart being assured Grandma’s years of living experience Her impact and influence Strength endurance Grandma wise Seeing I to I Times of Discipline Wrong to right Youthful years sometimes resent As an Adult, I understand Her song her own, “Afterwhile” I am enriched to stand and withstand Her...

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The master cracks his whip across the horse’s trembling flank, pushing the beast to its limits until the wildness snaps and the horse reacts, a flurry of chaos beneath the sting. When silence falls, the master believes the animal has learned, believes the wounds are healed. He reaches out with clean hands, petting the horse's weary muzzle, his fingers gentle, but not soft enough. The horse,...

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Why couldn't I hold your hand? You ask Yourself in golden bowers of infinity - Was it because he felt too old to do it? It was too infantile an act to make? Questions! Always questions! It is the time. And I tear myself away from this I should not defile the memory Of the dead, or besmerch their truth - If truth...

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In the mystery of the universe, where mortal hands cannot stop the fall of flowers, tears gather like pearls on the petals of destiny, without defying the law of time, for what must be, shall be, like the twilight that bows before the night, and the stars, in a trembling choir, bow to the dusk with grace and...

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When asked what there names were one responded quickly and spoke with a very heavy voice saying his stage name was "Rink rasher" and his partners was " Fresh Meat" he shook my hand and began a conversation: while his partner stood silent with a frown on his face. I was try to bring him into the conversation asking questions often...

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