Palm of her hand

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WritingintheSand

She sifted the power to express, in the palms of her
dainty hands. Smudged deep in carmine ink etched
clear upon the pallid sand. ‘Pledge me good in wine
and words to run through fields and sing with birds.’

To the wanton will of poetic hands, poured a wit so
deep and a skill sublime. She therefore bid presence
of mind to bolster creed — whether reason or rhyme.
‘Nor mind nor soul. Lo! only an aching heart has the
power to conceive perpetual work of art.’

Blessed are the ones with robust hands;
Faced with feat of tomorrow’s demand.

 

Photo credits:Β www.steveweed.com

Posted for Poetics @ dVerse Poets Pub

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Posted on Poetry Pantry @ Poets United

78 Replies to “Palm of her hand”

  1. What a lovely ode to those poet’s hands ~ Love this part best:

    Smudged deep in carmine ink; etched
    clear upon the pallid sand. β€œPledge me good in wine
    and words; to run through fields and sing with birds.”

    Thanks for joining us ~

  2. “only an aching heart; has the power to conceive perpetual work of art.”

    So true. It is from pain, loss and longing that some of the best work evolves.

    I am constantly amazed by your poetry, Sanaa.

  3. I love the strength that you describe in her hands even though they are dainty, Sanaa. Lovely words you wove here!

  4. oh WOW this is strong and deep, and, you chose the really best image to complement your sonnet

    i am happy you linked up at my Sunday Lime today

    much love…

  5. “only an aching heart” indeed, my dear and talented Sanaa – really feel your spirit in this today – it touched me for sure and lovely to read… With Best Wishes Scott

  6. I agree…I am all for those robust hands, hands that do, hands that achieve. There is something to be said for strong hands.

  7. Running through fields and singing with birds is not a bad way to spend one’s days. It really isn’t!

  8. There is a lot of truth in these beautifully phrased words: “only an aching heart; has the
    power to conceive perpetual work of art.”

  9. Ah.. my friend.. your
    poeTry iS pure and
    feminine.. and me born
    with my mother’s poetic
    soft hands..
    and my father’s
    big head.. law
    enforcement
    mitts he had..
    piano
    fingers
    gifted
    from Mom to me..
    and meanwhile i
    am like a Tyrannosaurus
    Rex.. writing poetry and roaring..;)

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