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The Callused Hand

Contributed by DIOGENES on Wednesday, 30th March 2011 @ 09:50:27 AM in AEST
Topic: MiscPoems

You ask,'What are the stones that cross your palms?'
Calluses, my son, the only true measure of honest work.
The world's richest cannot buy them;
Would-be socialites can't deny them.

They serve as God's approval of work done well.

I want for you the grandest home,
The finest clothes and peered esteem,
But always keep a callused hand
To mind you whence you came.

Beware the man who scoffs your grip;
Don't lend your trust to him.
Would he know the mildest work,
He'd not release your hand so quickly.

Watch his eyes while shaking hands.
If brows descend, he knows not task.
When brows arise, you've found a friend
To labor at your side.

A woman, too, may scorn your stroke.
Then she is foe to task.
She'll walk before you, not beside, and
Spurn you should a cloud appear.

A callus sees the hearts of others,
Not the race, nor creed, nor gender.
Always mind your callused hand, and
Let it choose your friends and equals

Though God, Himself, decides your fate.

Copyright © DIOGENES ... [ 2011-03-30 09:50:27]
(Date/Time posted on site)

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Re: The Callused Hand (User Rating: 1 )
by bigj on Wednesday, 30th March 2011 @ 10:01:04 AM AEST
(User Info | Send a Message)

this poem is absolutely one of the better ones i have read in a while. everything you say is so true. amazing write. off to read the next one

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