Quotes about grasp, page 44
I Had So Many Poems In Me
I had so many poems in me
They did not know where to begin-
Worlds of people I had loved
Faces and lives
Stories no one could tell-
And I wrote so little of them
I was true to such a small part of it -
Life is so so great
And with our hands our eyes our hearts our mind
We grasp so small a part of it -
I could not be true
To all I had seen and known and loved
All I could do
Was less
Than even
A child with his eyes wide open
Could dream.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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A Stone Griffin
a stone griffin
stern of heart
untouched
by exultant love
sits upon high
sits upon eves
in stone judgment
in heart of stone
face carved
in stone
emotionless
heartless
looking down
all passes
beneath sight
beneath grasp
[...] Read more
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Oh So Ready
The Winter Season has begun its erasing...
With each of us-a bit stripped raw-
Sliced by a cutting North wind-
In the grasp of January's claw;
We are unanimously oh so ready
For the Springtide air to draw
That we make wishes upon a February star
For an early Winterime thaw;
Looking to the Ground Hog on his day-
His shadow 'tis either met or no
But the stinging bluster of the North wind reminds-
That the forecast-still calls for snow;
poem by Theodora Onken
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How Much Further
How much more
How much further
To find sediments of joy
tears of compassion
How long shall mine roll
Before i grasp console
So my soul too my know
I am closer than ever before
Is it as long as my mind grinds
The vacuum in my soul damns with cries
How much more must i gather
and recollect
A sea of determination
An ocean of frustration
How closer am i to the fountains of sympathy
Plains of harmony
Mountains amicable
Rivers empathic
poem by Wes Mbanje
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Of Hue And Cigarette Dreams
Take flight upon the cruise
Of the hundred wishful feathers
As it pretends to be claws
That grasp at the forsaken loom
Crawling beneath every surge
That expands to a thousand
Heights, in come piercing
The debris of your nightmare
Take shelter in its nest
Take caution in its rest
Lick the metal-tasting scars
And the juiciest wounds
As you stand firmly, grounded
On a concrete of bones
And littered, tethered blows
Of hue and cigarette dreams
poem by Janine Alyssa Navarro
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Play for Me My Dream
In the wake of the sun bright early morn
dreams still travel, they are never lorn
thrusting ill fate to the place of the deep
and uplifting all you wish to keep
Your dream was made of good tomarrows
of a world of love and no more sorrows
of peace, and hope for every soul
no matter where evil took its' toll.
Your hearts' stretching forth
a grasp to eternity
trying to give the drought
of fate a plea:
'Please, please
play for me my dream.'
poem by S.W. Clark
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Hand of Friendship
You hold out a hand of friendship
to everyone you meet.
Sometimes it is taken
sometimes it is not.
The ones that refuse never know
what they might miss.
If that outstretched hand,
may have belonged to an Angel waiting there.
Someone who would have helped
unburden some of their load.
So the next time someone puts out a hand of friendship,
grasp it readily.
For you will never know if the stranger is really an Angel there.
(18 June 2007)
poem by David Harris
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Land Called Hope
Far across the sea of suffering
lies, a land called hope
where our dreams lay sleeping
waiting for our wake up call.
We rise and stretch every morning,
hoping to stretch across that sea
and grasp one of our sleeping dreams
from that land called hope.
Each day we fail to reach it
while it is only inches away,
but our day will come.
Our arms will stretch
far within its shore
and pluck one
of our sleeping dreams
from that land called hope.
poem by David Harris
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They Never Come Again
Life doesn’t give second chances,
but rare occasions
it sometimes does.
When this happens,
you have to grasp it
for all it is worth.
Don’t let it slip by,
as you may never get another try.
If love comes
a second time around,
don’t let it slip
through your fingers,
but take it to higher ground.
Second chances in this world
are to be taken
and not let slip away.
For it is quite possible
they may never come again.
[...] Read more
poem by David Harris
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These Poems
these poems be but the heart born hand,
the oak undressed, the pine that grieves.
the wings of bodies strewn by time,
the scent of flesh, and of blood.
the fire built for the faceless ones,
the sky heavy with storm.
the dreams of the child in red clay dirt,
the sound of the horn just outside sound!
the body wrapped in shadow's grasp.
the vibration deep inside stone.
the window latch broken by the wind,
the light beyond both death and prayer!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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