Wednesday, 18 September 2013

Cleansing

You wash and scrub 
soap and rinse
but you’re still not satisfied
So you do it once again
rid your palms
of every speck of dust 
and you’re proud 
of your squeaky clean hands

But the filth of hatred
clogs your mind
The grime of prejudice
corrodes your heart
The venom of malice 
clouds your vision
I'll settle for dirty hands
If you show me a spotless soul



* Written to fit this brief: 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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