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J Apr 2017
Brain excogitated,
Heart swelled with apricity,
Hands scribed poetry
Lydia Apr 2017
I didn't mean to brush against her hand
So delicately traced by accident
So briefly were our molecules bonded
So quickly was it meant to be over
Except,
She laced her atoms into mine
And decided to walk the same direction
Please Comment :)
Poppy Fields Apr 2017
My pinkies don’t bend right.
They get locked in place
attempting to navigate space
so they turn introspective,
going inward.

My aunt is a palm reader.
She looked at my lines,
at the small age of nine,
and wisely determined
my destiny.

My right hand is clumsy.
To be a good surgeon
I needed to burgeon
despite my weak faith
and faults.
Nancy E Tracy Apr 2017
You lose nothing in
the Loving Hands of Jesus
You gain everything
Lady Misfortune Apr 2017
I've had plenty of experiences with hands
Hands that wave
Hands that hit
Hands that help
To give hints
Hands that are kind
Hands that are mean
All the different ways we use our hands
Hands to welcome
Hands to ban
Another gift from God given to man
Follow Ty Harrell
Isabelle Apr 2017
When mind spilled the words
The two hands will do the work
Tool for poetry :)
19/30
Phoenix Bekkedal Apr 2017
One day I will impress you
Just watch
Check out what I can do with my hands
Give me a flashlight I can make an eagle on the wall
I can only make an eagle though
Oh guess what else I can do
I can intertwine my fingers to make a face
Oh, oh!  
I’m pretty literate too
Any word, any word you want,
I can write it down.

If you're not impressed yet,
you're not human
or lower your expectations.
Day Apr 2017
harsh a poets hands to write such anger,
how soft to feel such love,
the fingertips flow and move
assist the mind above.
the palms tender and smooth,
the bones bitter and tough
lift the hand up to the tongue,
the taste of ink and sweat.
rest a moment weary hands,
let the feelings set.
tools in such a weary work
needed just as much,
thank you hands for moving so,
create nothing from the dust.
i like this, thank you for the inspiration
kayla morrison Apr 2017
As a toddler my mom taught me
to use hands for games,
Patty cake, patty cake,
We had so much fun.

In 1st grade Mrs. Z taught me about hands.
The big hand represents the hours,
The small hand is for minutes,
And that skinny red one counts the seconds.

In high school Sarah Kay taught me
about holding hands, and hand models
She said "I read hands to tell your past."
Hands learn she said to me.

A coworker taught me to speak with hands.
Thumb in, 4 fingers up, thats "B" she said.
We could talk without moving our lips,
It was magic.

No one taught me the importance of hands,
Though.

The way you need to stretch your hands,
Reach out to the world and say,
"Here. Grab on, I won't let you fall"

How to make my hands, helping hands.
The kind with strong cracks and callouses
But they have a soft touch, gentle hands.

Hands that can stand the beating of
Negativity
Hatred
Rejection.

Hands that stay open,
Ready to accept whatever...
Gifts
The world gives them.

I want to learn how to use my hands,
To inspire a nation.

Who will teach me?
I love Sarah Kay, her poem was the first thing I thought of!
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