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Open Poetry #13
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His Hands
| Open Poetry #13 |
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His Hands |
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Gemini Senior Member
since 1999-12-15
Posts 1203Wisconsin, USA |
They say you can tell alot by a persons hands. Where they come from, where they've been. His were gentle and pure. Probably a reflection of his soul. They showed no sign of wear or toil. Sensual fingers flowing eloquently. They were the hands of an artist, an architect. Creative hands, busy hands. Hands which took the time to do everything to perfection. Every letter, every word, every picture drawn, carefully formed. He would talk with his hands, open and free. No care in the world, trustingly. Hands which when called for volunteered, carried a gun in a war. Held a lover in these hands, he did and a daughter as she grew. Without ever touching me, His hands held me captivatingly at bay. He was that way. |
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| © Copyright 2001 June Schultz - All Rights Reserved | |||
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Decaflame Senior Member
since 2001-05-11
Posts 1635 |
I have written of hands, I do not know why they intrigue me so, but they do, as did this. I enjoyed! Thank you! |
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Irish Rose Member Patricius
since 2000-04-06
Posts 10263 |
this is so true and there are very few safe hands in this world....I enjoyed reading this. Kathleen |
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Anson Beau Cavell Junior Member
since 2001-05-12
Posts 49Ohio,US |
Wow, I'm impressed. What a wonderful set of literary mittens you weave. killed my Buddha, killed my Christ |
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Gemini Senior Member
since 1999-12-15
Posts 1203Wisconsin, USA |
Decaflame- Thank you, like you I have always been intrigued. Irish Rose-Thank you for your sweet words. ABC-Thank you for your clever worded response. |
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serenity blaze Member Empyrean
since 2000-02-02
Posts 27738 |
Yep...I too am an observer of hands---very nice job here of capturing another's essence through observation. Loved it. |
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Janet Marie Member Laureate
since 2000-01-22
Posts 18554 |
Without ever touching me, His hands held me captivatingly at bay. He was that way. ====================== very cool tribute Gem, I love the sentiment in this... we can indeed be held by someone with out real contact... touch can come from so many places. beautiful write poetess of the twins  tis never easy being a moth, |
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