Thursday, 26 September 2013

Clean Hands

He starts with nothing
just a poor man
who wants to be rich
He drives himself hard
and rises to the top 
it all goes without a hitch

But along the way
he hardens his heart
and tramples on his soul 
Stops at nothing 
to get what he wants
By fair means or foul  

Corrupted by power
he takes the lives
of those who oppose him
Cross his path
and chances of survival
are indeed very slim

In devious ways
swift and sure
he plots their demise
Stabbed shot strangled
no matter how it happens                                
everyone always dies

The police dog his heels
but try as they might
they never find any proof
They question, they threaten
and even beat him up 
he stays silent and aloof

They want nothing more
than to convict him
and clap on those steel bands
They know he’s dirty
but there’s little they can do
for he has squeaky clean hands

* Written to fit this brief (not submitted): Let's explore a concept this time. Your assignment, should you choose to accept it, is to write a poem that explores "clean hands". Your poem should be titled anyway you like but must have the words "clean hands" in it somewhere. Not having your poem have the words "clean hands" will make your poem ineligible for competition. Titling your poem "clean hands" does not count. What does "clean hands" conjure in your thinking and writing? How will you get that across?

© 2013 Uma Venkatraman ~ All Rights Reserved

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