We don't look enough at hands
when we first meet,
yet we stare at them in death
all folded and put away
having doled out life's largess
like napkins in their holder
we spread them out
and press them to our lips.
Author notes
CM *I have chosen option #5
A contest entry
- I SIT and I ROCK and I WAIT...LONGING FOR DEATH TO COMFORT ME by liquidmindforever.
400 points, ended April 21, 24 entries
Gold trophy winner
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Comments
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true.
after my mom died, it was the image of her hands i kept seeing in my head - unexpectedly - with perfect clarity. but those hands had been so close, had interracted with me so intimately all my life - rocked me as a child, wiped away my tears, clapped for me, taught me how to write, to cook.
at the funeral it was them i had to touch to realize she was gone.
thought provoking write. - Mary Jo
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as i had said, some of your writing eludes me, but i like your metaphors and the over all way you word things. it make things pleasing to read, though i htink now you could tone yourself down a notch, dear. NOW, i think this peice is well written, and i like it overall.
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Poignant
Dear Poet,
Thank you for submitting your poetry to my
contest I SIT and I ROCK and I WAIT...
Please go back and look at the rules one more time. There is a requirement for AUTHOR'S NOTES. Once you discover the rule, please follow it, and notify me that you've completed the task of rule following.
Then, if you'd like I'll be happy to consider reading this poem as a potential finalist, as your short
yet poignant piece of life's realism is nicely expressed.
Best wishes,
LIQUID -
-
I have indicated my compliance of your contest rules in my author's notes per your reminder
-
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