Clouds poetry

H a n d s

If only man could turn stones into,
Gold just like how Jesus turned water into wine.
-ashes poetry

My hands have been cut, bruise
And splintered, lifting metal and wood
Blocks and mixing cement,
While the sun beated down on my head
Like goat skin drums my legs have walked
The earth/dust and swept it clean, ache after ache
Yet still I did not complain isn't that what a man
Is for? A mans job is to provide.
The boss man said "you men would have to get
Pay tomorrow. There was a problem at the bank".
All The worker men grumble one shouted
"What do you mean tomorrow, don't you see I have a Family to feed?!"
The other men agreed nodded their heads
aggressively, I'm a afraid their brains might fall out. "Yeah!" spoke up a man next to me a frown on his Face his foot on the shovel.
"Men, I under stand you all got a family to feed,
But there's nothing I could do tell tomorrow, we'll
Have to wait on the bank." The boss said.
In a firm frustrated voice rubbing his head to calm down whatever headache he has then replied "I've got a Family to feed too".

-ashes poetry