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Kimberly Lore Apr 2017
When I was younger
I looked at my parents hands
As they engulfed mine
And I wondered when I would
Be big enough to carry so much
Whether it be groceries or burdens
And now, as an adult, my hands
Are still so much smaller
I hope my hands can hold onto
What I love
Idiosyncrasy Apr 2017
When what you want
Touches the ends of your fingers
Hold my hand
So you can grab it
*If it's still not enough
Hold my other hand too
You are enough.
10. How together?
shåi Apr 2017
each a set of
5 fingers
a personal spider web
links us to the world
the delicate curvature
effortlessly bends and twists
like a winding road
stretching on and on
hands outstretched
like an eagle in flight, soaring
but also;
hurting/hating/ failing
each line
drawn on our palms
so haphazardly
by its calculated artist
our perfect imperfection
such lovely flaws,
bind us to our
faithful predestination
our bodies-
a lost compass, searching
our minds-
a wanderlust dreamer, waiting
for love,
our perfect traveler

this poem i tried out a different form than what i was used to
Idiosyncrasy Apr 2017
Even before I knew
What you really are to me
A friend, a bestfriend, a lover
I knew you are someone
I wouldn't want to leave

So hold my hand
I won't let go.
Thanks. Fear.
david mitchell Apr 2017
We're playing cards.
You're queen of hearts,
I'm heart of shards.
You're a work of art.
I'm caught off guard,
writing about regular hands seemed too basic. my hipster complex is getting worse.
Laura Duran Apr 2017
So soft and loving,
Your hands on my face
I felt special and warm
I knew you cared

So deft and strong
The way you kneaded dough
I learned at your hands
To feed those I love

With your hand in mine
I always felt brave
I could conquer any thing
A little squeeze was all it took

My hands on your face
Gentle and loving
I hope you felt special and warm
I hope you felt how much I cared

Your trembling hands
Would spill your food
So I fed you with the same
Hands that prepared your meal

Your hand in mine, I was still afraid
You couldn't give me that little squeeze
So trembling, I held tightly
Til my hands had to set you free
For my mother, whose hands I'll always remember
Sally A Bayan Apr 2017
Come, dance with me...
.....hold my back
lead my hand
push my fingers
they'll obey
release your power, and
fuel my senses, no room for false pretenses...

I'll let my creative ink flow
inch by inch, i'll move your hands, to draw,
together,  a field of dreams, we shall initiate
while we travel, our efforts will collaborate...
let's dance, fill our sphere with gems of thoughts
**** my pen.....its fire, my fingers will stoke
i'll guide your brush strokes
in painting bright colors on our walks...

lead my hands
as i lead yours...
This giving and taking,
this push and pull stuff,
let's make great art out of it <3


Copyright February  2016
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
Austin Barker Apr 2017
she loves my calluses
she holds my hands without malice
she likes my hands
but i don't understand why she likes working man hands
she holds them as much as she can
she says i work magic
they also do work that can be tragic
the hands of a working man that's just it
cuts and scars
make my hands what they are
Lauren Ehrler Apr 2017
Rough and lined
Quite defined
Cut and scarred
Oh so marred

Dark veins
And sharp pains
Short nails
But when all else fails

I hold your beautifully scarred hand too
And smile at the wonderful gift I've been given
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