Archives for posts with tag: Hands

To the Motherland for a while –
It is clear that I must visit the Sea –

Pick up the familiar clasts and cast them into the surf –

The headlands that I can trace in my sleep, as familiar as the back of my hands (changing with age, wind and sun) –

The sound of the waves, hypnotic and addictive, never easy to leave –

Easier knowing they will always be there, indeed there will always be an Ireland, long after we are all gone.



A sudden surprise –
The appearance of my hands ~
Aged and beaten.


Simple craft –
Functional beauty ~
Just right.


A wide ring –
The second finger –
Not wed yet.

Autumnal cooling –
Fingers, broken years ago ~
Bone thermometers.

So many lunches –
A comfortable friendship ~
Use our mitts to eat.

Outside, time is passing by ~
and to each, their own moment.


Grateful acceptance of Poetry Palace award for week 54.

I wish to nominate ‘Halfway Between The Gutter And The Stars’ for the next award. ‘We are all in the gutter, but some of us are looking at the kerb.’

Clean nails, unbitten –
Small Man, learning what matters –
A sure, firm, handshake.

A Tickle Monster –
Makes small children squirm and squeal ~
Saturday morning.

His emotive words –
Lead good boys and girls ~ willing –
To their destruction.

Hummingbird fast hands –
Final crescendo, brings smiles ~
They always want more.

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