Daleen Enslinstrydom Poems
|241.||Will They Remember?||6/9/2014|
|242.||Winds Of Change||2/19/2013|
|243.||Winds, Chilliness Brings A Feeling||10/23/2013|
|245.||With Begging Hands||3/5/2013|
|246.||With The Breaking Dawn||12/30/2013|
|247.||Words Written On Paper||8/21/2013|
|248.||Yesterday’s Old Comfortable Coat||7/29/2013|
|249.||You Are A Part Of My Forever Summer||8/13/2014|
|250.||You Are More||8/1/2013|
|251.||You Are My Resting Place||7/15/2013|
|252.||You Are My Summer Sun||4/5/2013|
|253.||Your Butterfly Kisses From Your Strawberry Lips||5/28/2013|
|255.||Your Penned Words Do Inspire Me||6/5/2014|
The Hands Of A Farmer
I have known those hands all of my life
and many times I have looked at those hands,
at big rough hands that worked the fields
and calluses in their palms tell a own story
and the fingers are big
and when they grab they hold on.
Those are very strong hands
but they are gentle when they touch the family.
Those hands sowed the wheat
and harvested the sheaves,
those hands planted maize
and brought home the first ripe corn.
Those hands brought life,
helped the cow that struggled during birth,
those hands carried the lambs
to a place of ...
Caught in the act she fears them,
hears their voices
as they drag her like an animal to the slaughterhouse
while her prosecutors pulls her by the hair
to the pebbled courtyard
where she stumbles and she is naked
and she knows that she is guilty
while her heart pounds anxiously in her chest,
uneasily she grasps for air.