Tag Archives: hands

Take a drink (poem of mine)

Give me these hands of hope
Let me see
These palms
Turned open
Let me see a shyness
Dissolve like a dye –

Disaster will follow
I took the warnings on my shoulders,
The mornings on my conscience
Padded with good lucks
Trembling with the good will.

Sometimes
It is too clear
And memories march
Through memories
Pain tingles
As a sensation
Unknown
Peculiarly
Elusive
Peculiarly
Alive.

“Take a drink” he said,
And I
Feeble
Obeyed,
Disobeyed
Swung between the two,
My polarities
Head-locked,
Obtrusive.

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Old. Home. Dry. (Poem of mine)

And those old eyes
I still saw them
spreading with
the age in her face
And every time she walked
I saw hurt in her bones.
And I don’t know how many
Nights I cried
Thinking of life
Without her
And loneliness
Clenched
Like a fist of self pity
And my heart beat so fast
When I stopped breathing
I felt relief
Close,
And sweet
As a sheet.
I never saw her drink again
Even when wine flowed like fountains
And parties flooded around her.
I will always write poetry
For you.
I hold your hands
And veins flow,
Like shallow rivers.
I sink like a stone
in the water
Forever seems like tomorrow
In this grasp of sunlight.

Look away, Look above. (poem of mine)

Your hands are on me,
I try to show light in my eyes.
Open wide,
Open wide.
Blink.
I am alive,
I am alive.

Slowly crawling down my limbs,
Down my limbs,
I anticipate heat.
No warmth,
No warmth from me.

I am cold,
Cold
As a broken generator,
Cold
As a corpse.

Hands on me,
Hands on me.
Palpate flesh
In your fist.
I look to the ceiling
For escape.

I feel eyes.
Real eyes.
Palpate.
Mouth.
Hands
feel like rigor creeping over me.
Ceiling,
Blink.
Espionage,
England.
Love,
Hate.
Escape,
Blink.
Escape.