Gentle Hands
#1
I look down at these hands and see,
What has finally become of me.
These hands have been through everything,
Have felt much more than words can sing.

These tiny hands held on so strong,
To those hands that made them belong.
Tiny hands so full of trust,
That in years to come turns to dust.

In teenage years these hands held pride,
Those hopes and dreams glowing inside.
These hands held laughter, friendship and joy,
Who'd have thought it could be destroyed.

These gentle hands which could not hurt,
Were left bleeding alone in the dirt.
They felt the entrance of the shame,
The hope and joy has turned to pain.

These hands await a better day,
Wanting hope, trust and dreams to stay.
But aged become these callous hands,
With wrinkles like waves in the sand.

Arthritic hands with no strength,
To hold another for any length.
Scarred hands which cannot trust no more,
Alone and dirty, forever sore.

My hands are dirty,
And cannot be cleaned.
My hands are empty,
Because of this fiend!

Invisible Shadows 2011


This is one of my favourite poems...whenever people ask "what's your favourite feature?" some people say "my hair", "my bum", "my legs"....my favourite feature are my hands...I have very small hands, no bigger than a childs, they are slender, and the fingers aren't too long, and they aren't stubby...considering they are used a lot, they are still quite soft...and so when I was really depressed, sat on my bedroom floor, just within my own head trying to escape the 'world', I was sat cross legged looking down at my hands...and that's how this poem came about....
"We are the music makers
And we are the dreamers of dreams
Wandering by lone sea breakers
And sitting by desolate streams" ~ Arthur O'Shaughnessy


http://invisibleshadows86.blogspot.co.uk/
My journey
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#2
(02-13-2013, 12:12 PM)hobbit86 Wrote:  I look down at these hands and see,
What has finally become of me.
These hands have been through everything,
Have felt much more than words can sing. -- This stanza flows really nicely and is a very good introduction for the rest of the poem. The problem I have with this one, however, is that the tone is too impersonal. Removing the 'finally' in the second line should help, and referring to the hands as 'they' should help as well.

These tiny hands held on so strong,
To those hands that made them belong.
Tiny hands so full of trust,
That in years to come turns to dust. -- Once again, the tone here sounds kind of impersonal. The idea is really good, and you can easily immerse readers into the piece, but the tone sort of cuts the impact somewhat. You can try something like 'They with their fragile strength/Searching, trying to grasp a home' for example. Make use of more words that further illustrate the implicit qualities of the hands. Fragile strength implies that the hands are tiny, and it may not be the best example, but I hope you see my point.

In teenage years these hands held pride,
Those hopes and dreams glowing inside.
These hands held laughter, friendship and joy,
Who'd have thought it could be destroyed. -- I feel that you're using 'held' a little too much. Hands can wave, hold, weave, clench, clutch and grasp. Use different words to elicit different moods and emotions.

These gentle hands which could not hurt,
Were left bleeding alone in the dirt.
They felt the entrance of the shame,
The hope and joy has turned to pain. -- To continue on the theme of hands, I'd personally use words like 'unclenched', 'open palms' and 'loose and slightly curled'. Maybe you can also include something on fingers as well. This stanza sort of detach from the whole 'hands' theme.

These hands await a better day,
Wanting hope, trust and dreams to stay.
But aged become these callous hands,
With wrinkles like waves in the sand. -- Nice stanza. The first 2 lines are a little cliche, but the last 2 are gold. =) More of these sort of lines in the poem will make it many times stronger I feel.

Arthritic hands with no strength,
To hold another for any length.
Scarred hands which cannot trust no more,
Alone and dirty, forever sore. -- The first 2 lines link nicely to the second stanza, but once again, I feel that they can be tightened with stronger imagery. The last 2 lines are a little cliche, but a simple reword will do wonders.

My hands are dirty,
And cannot be cleaned.
My hands are empty,
Because of this fiend! -- Too direct, and too in-your-face in my opinion. This last stanza can easily be reduced to one single line. 'My hands, dirty and empty.' Of course, the inclusion of the last line is up to you and how important you feel it is.

Invisible Shadows 2011

Personally I really like this poem. The idea is really good and the execution while a little weak can be easily improved with simple changes in word choices. Thanks for the read, and hope I'm of help! Remember, all my feedback is personal opinion so take what you will and toss what you don't need. =) Hope I don't come off as too harsh as well! =x

This is one of my favourite poems...whenever people ask "what's your favourite feature?" some people say "my hair", "my bum", "my legs"....my favourite feature are my hands...I have very small hands, no bigger than a childs, they are slender, and the fingers aren't too long, and they aren't stubby...considering they are used a lot, they are still quite soft...and so when I was really depressed, sat on my bedroom floor, just within my own head trying to escape the 'world', I was sat cross legged looking down at my hands...and that's how this poem came about....
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#3
Thanks for all your comments Brandon - Not harsh at all! That's why I've come on here, I want to make the poems I've written better. They are all really personal to me (although all poets writing is personal for them, lol) and I just want to make them better, so don't worry about sounding harsh, you're not insulting me, you're giving constructive criticism Smile

Just wanting to get some ideas so when I'm in a creative sort of frame of mind I can sit down and make some tweaks.

I tried to get each stanza to 'mirror' the other.
So first line always started with something about the hands (teenage, arthritic etc...), and with each new stanza, my hands aged.
2nd/3rd line was what the hands held/hold at that 'age', and the changes/what happening to them.
And the 4th was about the pain/suffering.

I can see now that within trying to repeat the 'theme' in each line, I've also repeated the words; as you pointed out 'these hands' and 'held'...I thought repeating the words would keep the flow and similarities, but yer, I can see it just looks too repetitive.

So just need to make some sentances stronger and stop the repetition, Smile
"We are the music makers
And we are the dreamers of dreams
Wandering by lone sea breakers
And sitting by desolate streams" ~ Arthur O'Shaughnessy


http://invisibleshadows86.blogspot.co.uk/
My journey
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#4
I'm really struggling with making it less impersonal...it's hard when it's a personal poem...I'm finding it hard to find words that keep it similar but not about 'me' and my hands...and this is the problem with all my poems...I feel something and I write it...and so that poem is personal to my feelings, but therefore impersonal to everyone else...

before I post anymore of my old ones up I will edit them and try and take away the impersonal style...will post both drafts....this is going to be very hard...lol
"We are the music makers
And we are the dreamers of dreams
Wandering by lone sea breakers
And sitting by desolate streams" ~ Arthur O'Shaughnessy


http://invisibleshadows86.blogspot.co.uk/
My journey
Reply
#5
One simple tip is to think about how you will say those words, or how the words come Ito your mind. Sometimes raw words or phrases carry the emotions over better. For example, 'where is he? Where is he?' Coupled with maybe a line or two is Ritter at eliciting fear than 'I'm scared witless'. Hope this helps? :x
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#6
(02-13-2013, 12:12 PM)hobbit86 Wrote:  Hi Hobbit, I found this poem very interesting as I wrote one on the same subject some time ago but in a different style, I'll place it at the end mainly to show how two people approach the same subject which I hope you will find of interest. I think you could once again lose quite a bit of this and have a really fine poem , the focus of the poem should be the hands and for me some lines detract from that focus, at the end of the day your poem is your poem ,if it says what you want it to say then fair and good but I personally think this could be much shorter and would benefit from some serious cropping. I don't like to suggest in a critique alternative words that is for you to decide but I will highlight the bits I would lose which I realise would mean a serious re write.

I look down at these hands and see,
What has finally become of me.
These hands have been through everything,
Have felt much more than words can
sing.

These tiny hands held on so strong,
To those hands that made them belong. I find this a bit clumsy to read
Tiny hands so full of trust,
That in years to come turns to dust.

In teenage years these hands held pride,
Those hopes and dreams glowing inside.
These hands held laughter, friendship and joy,
Who'd have thought it could be destroyed.

These gentle hands which could not hurt,
Were left bleeding alone in the dirt.
They felt the entrance of the shame,
The hope and joy has turned to pain.


These hands await a better day,
Wanting hope, trust and dreams to stay. can hands want?
But aged become these callous hands,
With wrinkles like waves in the sand. That's a great image

Arthritic hands with no strength,
To hold another for any length.
Scarred hands which cannot trust no more,
Alone and dirty, forever sore. Can hands be alone?

My hands are dirty,
And cannot be cleaned.
My hands are empty,
Because of this fiend!

I feel that the lines highlighted have nothing to do with hands more the heart and mind, sorry to condemn what is one of your own favourites I just feel you have the basis of a great poem that could be so much better.
Here's mine on the same subject......


With These Hands

These hands have cradled a new born child
Stroked the wax mask of death
These hands that climbed the trees of my youth
Now climb the walls of age
These hands, a storybook of scars, each a tale to tell
These hands have let fortune slip , made friends of strangers
Have caught and dropped the ball in equal measure
In the palms of these hands has rested the touch of love
The deceit of friends
These hands have wiped away tears of joy,
Sadness , laughter and pain, balled in anger,
Grown wide with amazement wrung with despair
These hands have tickled, caressed, reached vainly for the stars
With these hands I have built castles in the sand, houses in trees
Cities on tables, written of dreams, love and hate
Waved goodbye and shook hello
These hands that now ache with age , these old hands





Invisible Shadows 2011


This is one of my favourite poems...whenever people ask "what's your favourite feature?" some people say "my hair", "my bum", "my legs"....my favourite feature are my hands...I have very small hands, no bigger than a childs, they are slender, and the fingers aren't too long, and they aren't stubby...considering they are used a lot, they are still quite soft...and so when I was really depressed, sat on my bedroom floor, just within my own head trying to escape the 'world', I was sat cross legged looking down at my hands...and that's how this poem came about....
never make someone your priority when to them you are only an option
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