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| Topic: Hands | |
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I have artist’s hands,
speckled with the many colors of paint, but mostly with the putrid colors of gray charcoal and Pete moss. You can see the brown tar of cigarettes on my knuckles and the nails on my peace fingers. When not in use they are plump with fluid trying to heal the rapid movement that cripples digits; when working they are slim and delicate with knuckles swollen from too much cracking, the early onset of arthritis. They are the hands of a thief, stealing souls and putting them in pictures. They are the hands of a glutton and a lover, the decadent life of art. They are sinful hands, stained by living evil. They tremble on the wheel and I cannot hold my grip. Ashes and the cherry fall and burn a circle into the floor, the ashes of reincarnation,the circle of life. They are bruised broken stained and swollen, but they are mine. They hold the truth of my life and the power of my mind. |
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Edited by
kc0003
on
Wed 01/21/09 06:40 PM
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very nice imagery...
strong and vivid...nice piece... to the hand and mind of the artist 
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thank you....
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Edited by
MsWizard
on
Wed 01/21/09 07:15 PM
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I have artist’s hands, speckled with the many colors of paint, but mostly with the putrid colors of gray charcoal and Pete moss. You can see the brown tar of cigarettes on my knuckles and the nails on my peace fingers. When not in use they are plump with fluid trying to heal the rapid movement that cripples digits; when working they are slim and delicate with knuckles swollen from too much cracking, the early onset of arthritis. They are the hands of a thief, stealing souls and putting them in pictures. They are the hands of a glutton and a lover, the decadent life of art. They are sinful hands, stained by living evil. They tremble on the wheel and I cannot hold my grip. Ashes and the cherry fall and burn a circle into the floor, the ashes of reincarnation,the circle of life. They are bruised broken stained and swollen, but they are mine. They hold the truth of my life and the power of my mind. Im going to be honest with you. I hated Hands2 but THIS? This.... I love. It is beautiful~it is the dissecting of ones self~and it is pure~ 
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thank you MsWizard..its one of the few I have no discomfort in sharing, although that discomfort doesn't keep me from sharing
but again thank you
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"i like that"
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thank you MsWizard..its one of the few I have no discomfort in sharing, although that discomfort doesn't keep me from sharing but again thank you
Never feel discomfort with what you are feeling. It is what makes your poetry true and honest.
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I have artist’s hands, speckled with the many colors of paint, but mostly with the putrid colors of gray charcoal and Pete moss. You can see the brown tar of cigarettes on my knuckles and the nails on my peace fingers. When not in use they are plump with fluid trying to heal the rapid movement that cripples digits; when working they are slim and delicate with knuckles swollen from too much cracking, the early onset of arthritis. They are the hands of a thief, stealing souls and putting them in pictures. They are the hands of a glutton and a lover, the decadent life of art. They are sinful hands, stained by living evil. They tremble on the wheel and I cannot hold my grip. Ashes and the cherry fall and burn a circle into the floor, the ashes of reincarnation,the circle of life. They are bruised broken stained and swollen, but they are mine. They hold the truth of my life and the power of my mind. 
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beautiful..........
thankyou.
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