April 11, 2009

HANDS


Some hands become treaties
that seal the fate of two nations
or the course of a river.
Some become weapons
against the creativity of a questioning child.
Some become fly swatters
during a summer political gathering.
The same become applause
at the end of a speech
and also a beggar's shame
at the traffic signal.
Hands, become starved deserts
and hands become goblets
that feed a parched soul.
A few become inkwells
that hold a pen all their lives.
Dancers to the music of words
lollipops, thermometers
gavels, sound amplifiers,
tools for teenage pleasure.
Amazement in a poetry night,
respect in the battlefield,
prayer in a temple,
followed by an offering,
and a blessing.
But, what is it,
pasted on all those hands?
Is it the weight of our destiny, or
merely depth of poetry
of Gods?


also posted at my blog http://thehope-life.blogspot.com/

4 comments:

  1. WOw.....
    a very good thought in the end...
    I go with gods poetry....
    Nothing can be decided with the lines in yr hand...

    keep posting.... :)

    ReplyDelete
  2. SUCH A LOVELY WRITE MAN!
    had been thinking of how my hands act, feel, possess,emote differently.. your words are depiction of my thoughts.
    very well written

    ReplyDelete
  3. tweety, i am yet to read in ur blog,

    but i loved the thought... the flow and the execution! welcome back to poetry! :D

    ReplyDelete
  4. Very well executed..i really liked the concept...

    Cheerss...
    :)

    ReplyDelete

Comments are sexy.