Selected Poems

12+ Poems About Hands – Human’s Most Wonderful Tool

Last Updated: September 5, 2022

There is something special about hands. They are one of the most used and versatile parts of our body, yet we often take them for granted. Hands can show so much emotion, from tenderly cradling a loved one to clenched in fists of rage. In this post, we’ll explore poems that celebrate hands in all their glory. Whether giving a hand to help somebody up or reaching out to touch someone’s heart, hands are an important part of who we are. So join us as we look at some beautiful poems about hands!

1. This Living Hand by John Keats

This living hand, now warm and capable
Of earnest grasping, would, if it were cold
And in the icy silence of the tomb,
So haunt thy days and chill thy dreaming nights
That thou wouldst wish thine own heart dry of blood
So in my veins red life might stream again,
And thou be conscience-calmed – see here it is –
I hold it towards you.

2. I Felt My Life With Both My Hands by Emily Dickinson

I felt my life with both my hands
To see if it was there—
I held my spirit to the Glass,
To prove it possibler—

I turned my Being round and round
And paused at every pound
To ask the Owner’s name—
For doubt, that I should know the Sound—

I judged my features—jarred my hair—
I pushed my dimples by, and waited—
If they—twinkled back—
Conviction might, of me—

I told myself, “Take Courage, Friend—
That—was a former time—
But we might learn to like the Heaven,
As well as our Old Home!”

3. Clasping Of Hands by George Herbert

LORD, Thou art mine, and I am Thine,
If mine I am; and Thine much more
Then I or ought or can be mine.
Yet to be Thine doth me restore,
So that again I now am mine,
And with advantage mine the more,
Since this being mine brings with it Thine,
And Thou with me dost Thee restore:
If I without Thee would be mine,
I neither should be mine nor Thine.

Lord, I am Thine, and Thou art mine;
So mine Thou art, that something more
I may presume Thee mine then Thine,
For Thou didst suffer to restore
Not Thee, but me, and to be mine:
And with advantage mine the more,
Since Thou in death wast none of Thine,
Yet then as mine didst me restore:
O, be mine still; still make me Thine;
Or rather make no Thine and Mine.

4. My Grandmother’s Hands by Adryan Barnathan

Looking down at my hands,
‘these are my grandmothers hands’
these hands of mine
hauntingly resembling hers-
are not pretty hands, like my mother’s
but handsome, useful hands
smooth, long, polish free, practical fingers
made for use,
like my grandma’s hands
that joyfully cut and sewed
birthday dresses
that made little girls smile
and metamorphose into princess’.
These hands of hers,
quickly spun yards of yarn
into ponchos for the spring-
and before the bite of winter frost,
cushy quilted bathrobes arrived
wrapped in bright red Christmas paper.
Every garment, every stitch, every touch
with enormous patience and love
This was her way.
So, when I look down
at my hands today
so many, many years later…
I see a ‘gift’-
These hands of mine, of hers
act as if they have a life of their own;
sewing, playing guitar, drawing, crocheting…
as though, through these fingers
I witness
her wisdom passing through me-

5. These Old Hands by Emma Campbell

These old hands are wrinkled
There’s a brown spot here and there
The nails are worn off to a quick
No sign of polish anywhere
But these old hands tell a story
And if you’d care to stay
I’ll tall you for the service
They’ve done from day to day
They’ve brought younguns into the world
Rocked the cradle by he hour
covered my hear tin a Flag salute
Soothed many a fevered brow.
Before washing machines were common
they used an old rub board
to wash the babies’ diapers
And overalls by the score
They’ve cooked delicious dinners
Sewed covers for the bed
tied a little girl’s ribbons
Around her pretty head
Every night around bedtime
They are folded in revered prayer
Any place they are needed
these old hands are there.
Now these old hands aren’t pretty
But I’m proud of them, you see
‘course these old work worn hands belong
To little ole’ caretaker, ME.

6. Helping Hand by Loretta Worthington

We all need a helping hand sometimes, as we travel through life.
So take the hand I willingly extend and I’ll guide you.
Because when I look at you I see myself, living one of my many lives.
People say the older we get the wiser we become, this is not necessarily so.
We all need a helping hand sometimes.
So with a little help I’ll guide you away from the path which I took, that lead
me away from the truth.
Don’t ever feel that I am lost to you.
I only await your call, when together we will find a clearer path to follow,
through the twists and turns of life.
Because we all need a helping hand sometimes as we travel through life.
So take the hand I willingly extend and I’ll guide you.

7. These Hands Of Mine by Emma Beverage

these hands of mine
are strong, and kind
rough, working hands,
they’ve paid their dues.
they milked the cow
when I was young,
fed chickens too
they have played sports
upon the courts
won ribbons too
these hands of mine
can write a rhyme
sketch a bit as well
lived for all it’s worth
held two babies,
after giving birth
these hands are strong
they have worked long
sought great spirit
through it all
traveled coast to coast
not to boast
crossed our borders
both north and south.
caressed a lover’s mouth.
held a rising sun
chased a lonely moon
whistled out of tune.
held on when we
could not win
had the courage
to start again
stood my ground
when I was right
did my best
to avoid a fight
when I was wrong
learned from mistakes
then traveled on.
my skin wrinkled
with my age
forgetful now
still I’m a sage
I’m hoping the best
is still to come
before I rest
and life is done.

8. Your Warming Hands by Babette Teeth

When you stretched your hands to me
I touched your fingertips and a tear for thanking
It is said that grace kindness
deserves doubled thanks
Is it how my tears running from autum to winter
then from spring to summer?
Your smile reminds me of a kind-hearted boy
Your strongness reminds me of a hero sodier
Is it why my tears running from dawn to evening
then from heart to mouth?

9. Precious Hand by Edyth E. Ashcraft

When God reached out and touched me,
So gently with His Hand.
It made my troubles seem so small,
Just like a grain of sand.
I thank Thee God for touching me,
And now I understand.
My life has been much brighter.
Since I felt your precious Hand.

10. His Hand by Mary L. Shoemaker

I walk with Jesus by the hand
This road of life and trial,
He will bring me safely to that land
Were there is no more strife or sorrow.
Yes I hold his hand so tightly,
Thru every joy and sorrow,
He’s been my guiding light,
Thru each new tomorrow.
A cloak of warmth he gave to me,
When my loved ones went before,
The strength he gave me to go on
Until we meet again on his great shore
You need no church or preacher man,
To bow your head in prayer.
Let your heart be his cathedral
Just take him by the hand
For he will always be there until you
Reach the promised land.

11. Hands Of Time by Pat Bordner

Leisurely, I enter dad’s repair room.
Placing me in the hands of time.
Antique clocks of many styles.
Springs, gears, and parts about. Clocks bold that go bong, bong.
Softer pieces that ping, ping.
Westminster chimes play a tune.
One that dares to call me cuckoo. Faces with Arabic or Roman numerals.
Bordered by designs or flowers.
Pendulums swinging to and fro.
Ticking, clicking, and tapping. Hands moving slowly measuring,
the minutes and hours.
Guiding my pace, life’s moments.
Directed by the hands of time.

12. Her Hands by Maggie Pittman

Her hands held me gently from the day I took my first breath.
Her hands helped to guide me as I took my first step.
Her hands held me close when the tears would start to fall.
Her hands were quick to show me that she would take care of it all.

Her hands were there to brush my hair, or straighten a wayward bow.
Her hands were often there to comfort the hurts that didn’t always show.
Her hands helped hold the stars in place, and encouraged me to reach.
Her hands would clap and cheer and praise when I captured them at length.

Her hands would also push me, though not down or in harms way.
Her hands would punctuate the words, just do what I say.
Her hands sometimes had to discipline, to help bend this young tree.
Her hands would shape and mold me into all she knew I could be.

Her hands are now twisting with age and years of work,
Her hand now needs my gentle touch to rub away the hurt.
Her hands are more beautiful than anything can be.
Her hands are the reason I am me.

Final thoughts

Hands are one of the most expressive parts of the body, and they can say a lot about a person. These poems capture some of the many different ways hands can be used and interpreted. Whether you’re looking for a new way to describe your own hands or just want to appreciate the beauty of them, these poems are sure to touch your heart. What is your favorite poem about hands?

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