These Hands

These are the hands of your three dudes
Some young, some old, some used, some new
You might see some dirt, you might see some blisters
You might see them torment you and their sisters

But there’s more to these hands than what meets the eye
So stop and look closer while we tell you why

These hands are connected to hearts that adore you
Two generations of hearts beating for you
In a world of lies and selfish pursuits
These hands were designed to uphold the truth
These hands were designed to protect and provide
To work and serve, to lead and to guide
These hands are equipped to defend and attack
So when you get worried, we’ve got your back

These are the hands of father and son
Trying to balance the work and the fun
So close your eyes, my lady, and rest
These hands are God’s gift and this is our quest.

Early Signs of Greatness

My brother sent me an email yesterday. He found two poems I wrote way back when I was 16 or 17 years old. To be a fair judge of my early poetic endeavors, you need to know that these were not written as serious poems. We were trying to be funny. Trying.

You’ll soon see that I use the term “poems” very loosely. These are poems in the same way that a Ford is a “car”. They’re on the low end of the range. But I digress. Here they are for your reading enjoyment:

Pubescent Poem #1

I stand
In the shadow of the apology
For promises
Broken by the time that never passed
Tick Tock
Goes the Thought
Of my time has come
I guess the answer lies within
Within
Within
Within the moon beam
Cast by the sun
I'm hot
I need a drink
I thirst for the past
And hunger for the future
But I have no past
Is there a future?
Or is it just a great chasm
Cast into the stream
Of unconscious blunder
As we pillage the
Time given to no one
I ponder
I rest
Revived I stand
For I must fall
And fall I will
When the rain comes like a plane
With no pilot
Crashing, burning
In a fiery mass of flaming flesh
I hear the screams of the silent breath
Gone
Gone
Only to return
When life
Removes its veil


Pubescent Poem #2

I walk out the window
The wind smiles at me
I feel tired
I must be free
Free from this bond
This bond of hands
At the gates of the world
I glance back
What have I become?
Where must I go?
I sleep
Deeper
Deeper
Deeper
I dream of the
Smiling wind formentioned
Suddenly, I wake
In the haze of
My missing humanity
How small have I become?
I ponder the birth
Of the thoughts
I have heard of
The new day brings
Memories of those to come
Worry free I follow
The path of life
In a constant struggle
To master
The task
Of living the life set before me
The future time on my watch
Has passed