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Poetry / In Your Hands
They speak far enough of the mind,
The heart, well it is just as played.
What of the part that does their work,
Would the hands ever reach their grade?
What of the fingers and their sort-
They touch the things a mind can't reach,
And in their rough and callused tips,
Lie the lessons the heart can't teach.
And you know as well as I do,
The fingers ask naught in return.
Where the mind demands forever,
And the heart leaves when spurned.
Perhaps a bandage now and then,
That is the all the pay they will ask.
And never would they belie you,
Or hide behind a mask
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I am not sure from your comments whether you really want a critique but then you put it in the review queue so I am going to review it. I think this is an interesting idea. I think comparing hands with “heart” and “mind” should show the old phrase “seeing is believing” in other words, what we do with our hands might have more of an impact than words that generated in our minds or feelings from our hearts. You did address that in the first two stanzas. I think you personified the hands too much in the last stanzas. I don’t see hands “asking.” I also don’t know if I agree that hands don’t belie you (doesn’t that mean give you away? hands give people away all the time). I would change the last stanza if I were you. Also, the first sentence should be “They speak FAIR enough of the mind”. I think you should elaborate on the things hands can do that hearts and minds can’t.
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