Imagery Poems -9 Poem by ashok jadhav

1. Hands at Work
Hands speak in motion, not in sound,
Knuckles dark with use;
They fold the day into small tasks
No words could introduce.
Dust settles deep in every line,
Nails carry iron's mark;
These hands have learned to shape the world
From morning until dark.
2. Eyes as Mirrors
Eyes catch light before it falls,
Hold skies the mind forgets;
A thousand unsaid histories
Live in their quiet depths.
Look long enough—you meet yourself,
Reflected, changed, undone;
Eyes are mirrors time cannot crack,
But never truly one.
3. Breath in Cold Air
Breath rises pale against the blue,
A ghost the mouth releases;
Each exhale proves the body's heat
Where winter's grip increases.
Life shows itself in borrowed smoke,
Then vanishes from view;
The cold makes visible the truth
We breathe, then pass right through.
4. Heartbeat in Silence
Silence presses on the ear
Until the chest replies;
A steady drum behind the ribs
Marks time the world denies.
Each beat insists on being heard
Though nothing else will speak;
The heart keeps counting life aloud
When language has grown weak.
5. Footsteps on Gravel
Gravel answers every step
With sharp, unwilling sound;
The path remembers weight and doubt
Pressed hard against the ground.
No step can lie, no foot pretend—
Each choice is clearly known;
Gravel teaches honesty
To those who walk alone.
6. Wrinkles as Maps of Time
Wrinkles trace the years like roads
Across a weathered face;
Each line a stop, a turn, a loss,
A moment left in place.
Time writes slowly, but it signs
Each passage it has crossed;
These maps do not record the years—
They show what life has cost.
7. Blood as River
Blood moves quietly through its banks,
A river warm and red;
It carries storms of memory
To places never said.
When cut, it finds the open air
And speaks in urgent flow;
Blood is the road the body takes
To prove what lives below.
8. Skin Remembering Touch
Skin recalls what hands forget,
A warmth, a passing trace;
Even absence leaves its mark
Upon that fragile space.
Long after touch has lost its name
And time has learned to erase,
The body keeps its own soft truth—
Skin remembers grace.