STILL MY HAND

Whatever your hand find doing, do it well

So many hands have been cuffed and thrown to cell

So many hands were used to ring the bell

Yet they can’t write a word or write to spell

But I thank God that still my hand is used as the writer’s magical spell

It has a lyrical muse, a friend to the pen.

My hands may look so small but has done great things

Still my hand when I was young loves to draw and do the painting

Loves to bait, fish and do the hunting

Helps mama through her rigorous baking

Helps her in the kitchen to prepare a beautiful pudding

Still my hand mama teaches how to cook and bake

Papa teaches to give and not only take,

To spare and to repair,

Not to destroy but create without despair

I use it on piano to run musical scales

And on drums to set beautiful sound ablaze

But truly when I was young my hand was so naughty

Still my hand goes to mama’s purse to do the picking

Goes to her pot and do the meat stealing

My hands so soft my baby loves its massaging

It’s so tender it always does the crushing

Loves to fondle and do a little squeezing

My hand goes to places my leg may not follow

Also does the handling for my mouth to wallow

It’s so tender; it likes the skin of the female gender

Like a blender, it works for me in all weather.

Now my hands are holy, I give God the Glory

Like a Spartan at war, I live to tell the story

With my hand I make the difference

Not being idle for the devil to make its preference

With my hand I am an architect-ure

In it lies my own life’s civil structure

Still with my hands I show so much gesture

I work to attain greater height for a brighter future

Cus in my hand lies my soonest investiture

In the hand of Moses was the Rod that parted the Red sea

In the hand of David was a Sling and stone that killed Goliath

In the hand of Samson was a Jaw bone that slew a thousand philistines

In the hand of the little boy was 5 loafs and 2 fishes that fed thousand

In the hand of Tiger Wood is the rod that plays the Golf

In the hand of Djokovic, Nadal and Federer is the racket winning the Grand Slam

In the hand of Da-vinci was a brush that painted the last supper

In the hand of Micheal Angelo was an act of art that robs the mind

In the hand of M.I and Tuface is one mic that makes the difference.

Still in my hand is a blessing of a pen that writes a poem

To make a positive impact from now till then

And I will keep putting rhymes on lines till I see the glorious end.
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I am just a clay in the porters hand.

Tell me brethren what is in your hand……?

Yommybishop………©March 2012.

Whatsoever thy hand findeth to do, do it with thy might

For there is no work, nor device, nor knowledge,

nor wisdom, in the grave, wither thou goest. (Ecclesiastes 9:10)