Hands Outstretched

Hands Outstretched short poem

Photo by Bengin Ahmad

With hands outstretched
And headed my way
Sad eyes looked at me
As if to say
Please can you spare a dime or two
His feet are bare, not even a shoe!

Sparing him some coins to
Help fix broken dreams
His clothes dirty
And frayed
With no pocket
It seems

With fresh gait and great speed
He was smiling, yes, indeed
Off to fill his empty part
His pangs and plight held in my heart
Knowing for sure he had a plan
How to spend the coins
Held tightly in hand.

No more hands outstretched today
He bought some food
and turned to say
“Thank you for stopping
and caring enough”
As he took a sip
From his steaming cup.

Rate the poem
1 Star2 Stars3 Stars4 Stars5 Stars (1 votes, average: 3.00 out of 5)
We are posting your rating...

Have something to say about the poem?

Profile photo of Shoba Look Kin

Shoba Look Kin

Signup / Login to follow the poet.
I'm a mom of four amazing boys.I have a passion for cooking and I'm mad about reading.
Poems you will love

Give your feedback / review for the poem

Be the First to Comment & Review poem!

Notify of
avatar
wpDiscuz

Hands Of Enemy

Hands Of Enemy short poem

With frugal memory you wanted to tame the radical spine, while fright was bending the thighs. Was it a travesty of the graduated thumb? The speed of the river had accelerated in aching land. People gathered to collect the alms

Clumsy Hands And Brittle Things

Clumsy Hands And Brittle Things short poem

I have solely turned this creation into mess, becoming a cause for frustration and moments of distress, resulting from price tags and use of over-inked cheques, and also from partaking in acts of repeated carelessness, It’s safe to say that

Hands

Hands short poem

Hands have the ability to tell much about a person Race, age, gender And many other things if you really pay attention You can tell how hard someone works Or how physically demanding their occupation is By the cracked calluses

They Are The Works Of His Hands

They Are The Works Of His Hands long poem

“How glorious and how perfect Art the works the Lord hath done” For upon nothingness, He formed the earth When nothing that breathes upon the vast universe lived He made all things alive by His breath of life From the

Gray Hands

Gray Hands short poem

It is neither end nor beginning, I am still suspended between punishments, primrose gives one answer, hollyhock another, I catch the moon in flight to west and enter a sand grain to probe the universe for the sexual selection of