Short Hands And Knees Poems
Short Hands And Knees Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Hands And Knees by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Hands And Knees by length and keyword.
If I were on my hands and knees
I would see kindness
I would see love
I would see peace
When I am on my feet
I see animosity
I see hatred
I see greed
I got down on my hands and knees
and begged the lord please
let you come back to me
cuz we were ment to be
but now all i see is that he has only set you free
Form:
My soul feels the hard rub of life
so relentless, this flinty grinding
as I cram through narrow passages,
crawling on my hands and knees
towards the salvation of your touch
I'm sick of standing on my hands and knees!
The image speaks to the wall.
Why don't we alternate?
The Frame is your outer casing.
And we pierced my chest with nails.
my momma chased me around the house to comb my tattered hair
and that pink frilly dress she could never get me to wear ,
cut I'd rather be out with the boyz in the mud and muck
crawling on my hands and knees to push my Tonka truck
It seems like when I fell down.
I never got back up.
Crawling on my hands and knees.
Struggling through life.
Every heartache, every problem.
Feels like a thousand pounds
Pushing me further into the ground.
Struggling to breath.
There are no problems in the world
that I can try to solve.
When waiting on my hands and knees
for government to resolve.
That I am waiting for my death
in rights that will dissolve
And paying for my ignorance
in lives that have absolve
Crippled by your words
I made crutches to carry me
Through the following days
Stronger than before
Weaker than I feel
I cannot carry myself
Misguided by thoughts
I selfishly crawl to hide
On my hands and knees
Flesh shredded
Bones shattered
I rest, I sleep, forever
In middle of the night
He creep in like thief
The thunder roaring
Across Your floors
A flash of lightning
Created a fire
Skipping stars
Started to fall
Your sleeping minds
Heard the dark knights call
Rise up or you shall crawl
Upon your hands and knees
Like a disease
Lightning
highlights painting
Jagged sky and rough seas
Two on weathered yacht breaking up
The sirens’ alarm amidst torrent clouds
In terror they seek company
Splinters in hands and knees
Fast pounding waves
Lightning
8/25/2018
Rictameter Me Poetry Contest
Sponsor: White Wolf
I get up each morning,
Seaching through my home,
Looking for dirt and grime,
To me is yet unknown.
I dust and polish,
Mopping on hands and knees,
Wash all my windows
Until I'm throughly pleased.
My reason for my cleanliness,
Isn't for health or pride,
But fear of what you might discover,
If I should suddenly die.
My heart bleeds, my soul needs. I've loved and I've hated. My hunger, never sated. I've risen as much as I've fallen, I'm a gambling man and I'm all in. I continue to chase after wild geese. I submit to the universe on my hands and knees. No matter what the future holds, I will grow. No matter how much I've reaped, I will sow. I am Duality. I am Humanity.
They were bigger than me!
Couldn't get free.
Circled around,
Until I fell on the ground!
Scared of what they could do.
I picked a space between some knees,
Let all my breath out.
Until I thought I could squeeze,
Between and under,
Grasping hands and knees.
Ran all the way home,
Then knew I was free!
Crawl on your hands and knees,
Away from broken pleas,
Where the tender heart bleeds;
Let her soul rest in peace.
Think of her divine joy,
Blended to the limitless;
Extrudes fluid nothing,
Why the disenchantment?
Moments in reflection,
Creation with destruction,
Moves in loves hatred,
Swinging each indulgence.
Lightening bolts and rain,
Denied love, triggers the pain.
Under a fading Celtic moon, half
a coin left over from last night, my sheep
are feasting on pasture lush and wild
with turkeys’ wings. A titmouse chick-a-dees
from an oak that’s spring-fresh green.
On hands and knees, I harvest Indian lettuce
for a salad. Do sheep wonder at my human
foraging? I’ll come back home
wearing colors of the field, muddy knees
grass-stained; I’m hungry to savor
my tiny isle of green.
What is that sticky substance
Right on my kitchen floor?
It's only in one spot,
I can't see any more.
Could it be a piece of gum?
I can't figure it out.
Maybe some milk gravy
Or a tiny splash of grout.
It's a bit embarrassing
And rarely is it seen.
Like the rest of my house,
I like to keep my kitchen clean.
I have to find the answer,
So on my hands and knees.
After a closer look,
I saw it was just some cheese.
Forgive me! I'm here in my pled. I'm here on my hands and knees
yelling out to the world. I was wrong, I don't know what I was thinking
that was back then. I'm sorry I rather lose my life then to lose a friend.
You best believe just forgive me
this is my shout out to you, for you to listen to what I have to say
. I'm done and I'm not going to walk away
never again b/c its hard on me to think I just lost a friend.
Your image is in the glass in my soul, where your face moves
Through mine. The brim fills in love and pours over time.
The mirror with who I am is binding—and cannot contain
Your light. It shatters the window image of home.
Losing your heart, I’m alone.
On hands and knees I feel the glass—for your
Life to my soul. From millions of scraps of me,
I’m cut through more deep, and
Bled my blood, strained in jar, that you feel it.
the typhoon force wind roared through the long dark cave
which was once was the refuge of along forgotten slave
why am i here i ask myself again and again
putting myself through this agony and pain
oh i remember now for my true love i must find
the largest pink shell,just the one of a kind
scrabbling about on hands and knees so sore
i spot the pink shell in the seas shallow shore
i held it up to the fading sunlight
and let out a cheer with all of my might
She wanders through the rubble,
Tears streaming down her twisted face.
Red eyes mixed with black eyeliner.
Her pupils shine green among the dancing flames.
Branches snag her tattered clothes,
Causing her to fall.
On hands and knees,
She has no will to stand.
Chains and locks on her wrists and ankles,
Not letting her move.
Too weak…
She’s losing the fight.
Days of crying and sobbing,
Such pain.
Screaming on the inside,
But her voice won’t work…
Somedays i keep it all locked down inside,
When my inner spirit chooses to run and hide.
It builds and builds to this manic depression
Where ive come to accept my lifes regression.
I watch things held precious slip away
I surrender to hopelessness day by day
I look to my pen and paper or keypad as my only release
Or crying out to God on my hands and knees
But the chasm grows wider as it swallows who i used to be
And my mirror slowly phases out the real me.
Your touch
Your fingers in my hair
Your words
Harsh against my face
Its like a slap
When you look at me that way
I want to hate you
Until you bleed a different color
Love, lust and loathing
Pouring from my veins
You're like a drug
That slowly kills me from the inside
I won't crawl
On my hands and knees for you
Not this time
I've opened up enough
It's your turn
To take your time
And weigh the situation
I'll be here
If you decide to find me
Form:
descised as someone I'm not
praying on my hands and knees for forgiveness for the people that i have shot
the lives that i have taken
the families that i have destroyed
the path that i have chosen puts my whole family in danger
the thoughts of ever being able to be me again are decaying beneath my feet
burning of hell runs through my mind as my legs become weak and my life becomes short
i am not a man nor considered a human being
i am a failure,
a disappointment to us all
Form:
I walk the road I believe in, where my dreams and desires reside,
It's where my hopes begin and never end,
It's where love is in the very air I breathe,
It's where I can get on my hands and knees and pray to the one that created me,
It's where my talents and gifts come from,
It's the reason I wake up everyday, thankful to watch my children play,
I walk this road because I believe,
And this is the only road that will see the bottom of my feet.
Poet
David W Carter
Lone Bailey was a tree hugger since the age of three
Resilient limpet, he clung on ferociously
Now labelled and rejected as a permanent pest
Bailey went his own sweet way avoiding all the rest
His favourite haunts were abandoned places and trees
Scrambling barefoot up them or on his hands and knees
To carving his initials in perpetuity
He beheld grotesque images no-one else could see
Menacingly taunting him to COME HERE AND HUG ME.
Halloween sCARE - Contest
10/11/17