10.15.08
These Hands
These hands that embrace in devotion at the rising and the setting of the sun,
and in between,
These hands that sends forth bouquets of piquant scents
after tending the rosemary, basil, and tarragon each morning,
These hands that prod blacks and whites, bovid guts and equid hairs
by musical suasion,
These hands that bequeath literal flowers in a book,
and glean literary flowers from a book,
These identical sisters who trace legatos of words and
p . i . z . z . i . c . a . t . o . s .
These hands that find ecstasy in fondling pages,
These hands that steadfastly obliterate tears,
These members that breaks and mends,
These hands whose perspiration are anathema to touch,
This dyad who have been sinners and saints,
These hands that along with the heart and mind have been in exceeding ways
the shaping of me.
These hands that are part minstrel, part toiler,
are they not half mine, half yours?
Were they not meant to rest in yours,
ab ovo,
ad infinitum?
.
.
.
jonathan hawk follows closely said,
October 15, 2008 at 10:37 pm
Wow, wonderfully composed. The sense of pain, and tactile knowledge of life comes through in this share from this piece. One feels the closeness to the earth, the stories these hands know, both appreciative and painful. I am moved.
mika lastrilla said,
October 16, 2008 at 7:59 am
this is so beautiful. i’m not much of a poem reader, but i have to say, i was touched by your words. :)
Miracle ♪♫ said,
October 17, 2008 at 12:03 am
¤ To Jonathan:
Thank you for feeling… as always.
¤¤¤
¤ To Mika:
Speaking of hands! Mikhail Lastrilla! Those awesome hands of yours! May we trade hands even for just a day? =D Seriously, I’m touched that one such as you have been touched by this. Thank you.
“Poetry -
but what is poetry.
Many shaky answers
have been given to this question.
But I don’t know and don’t know and hold on to it
like to a sustaining railing. ~Wislawa Szymborska~
Iloilo Bloggers said,
October 27, 2008 at 8:23 am
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