“cupped hands”

Written for:  The Twiglets #229 - cupped hands

She cups her hands
to gather
Spring showers.

Cupped hands
gather no moss.

sits at the stream
making small waves in water
with cupped hands

             There was a man born with strange hands
             At the ends of his wrists were cups, and
                   though he could not write
                    he was quite the sight
          at water fountains and popcorn stands.


About purplepeninportland

I am a freelance poet, born and bred in Brooklyn, New York. I live with my husband, John, and two charming rescue dogs–Marion Miller and Murphy. We spent eight lovely years in Portland, OR, but are now back in New York. My goal is to create and share poetry with others who write, or simply enjoy reading poetry. I hope to touch a nerve in you, and feel your sparks as well.
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10 Responses to “cupped hands”

  1. Jules says:

    Little twiglets of wisdom those first three.
    I thought of Edward Scissor hands when I read the limerick… but I never did watch that movie.


  2. poetrybydebi says:

    I love one and four esp. Makes me think of small, wonder filled children.


  3. De Jackson says:

    I like that second little gem, especially.


  4. Nicely done poem.


  5. Misky says:

    Love the waves of water.



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