Welcome to Day 29 of the April Write 2013: a new era begins
I believe that all things are connected and that each of us by coming to this page share a special kind of kinship which goes beyond the boundaries of a single month. We are not here because we want to show that we are the best or to gain adulation or praise but because one woman, Angela Edgar, had a big idea to create a space were the love of an art form could be shared. As she has said “she wanted to create a place where people from many different backgrounds can come together in the name of poetry to create something wonderful”. So, we came, we saw, read, shared, encouraged and inspired each other. Such is this place that the ethos that it is built on resounds in every comment and every read.
Today I have taken the liberty of standing as the last guest host of this year’s challenge.As such wish to introduce you to a painting I have just finished entitled
‘Hands Which Connect #1′.
The topic for today is: “Hands Which Connect”
I wanted to show you this piece in a video as it like most things I paint map part of the journey of discovery I am undertaking, a journey which the April Write holds a special part and place in.
Watch the video here to see the painting in its different stages http://youtu.be/YZNxjMoiMzo
The topic of hands was chosen as my left hand was the first thing I felt comfortable drawing and painting as a child, also because hands to be appear to have a language all of their own.
Hope you enjoy my work and that you are inspire to write, paint or draw you choose.
~ Marina
The April Write 
Donna Parkinson (c) April 2013
Hands which connect…
Reach out and take my hand,
Bond,
With me,
Feel the energy,
Flowing from me to you,
Even the most fleeting of connections,
Can tell you so much about a person,
Yes…That transient touch,
That momentary union,
Can bring forth such enigmatic,
Sensations,
That it can tie people together,
Or rip them apart,
Forever…
Something as simple as a touch,
Can seal a deal,
It can break a bone,
A touch can wipe away a tear,
Or it can start a war,
And one touch can heal a nation,
Or start a revolution,
There is so much power at our fingertips,
That we are moments away from greatness,
Seconds away from freedom,
Minutes away from victory
As no one can defeat,
Hands which connect,
In peace, love and unity..
Zita Holbourne (c) April 2013
THE STRENGTH OF HANDS CONNECTED
He couldn’t breath
Couldn’t believe
This was happening
They were suffocating
As his life flashed before
He asked himself why, what for?
Because he was black, young, wearing a hood?
Why did the police assume he was up to no good?
As he felt his body giving in, getting weaker
He prayed in desperation not as a believer
But just when he had accepted as fate his death
An answer to his prayer came as he gasped for breath
The hands placed around his body
Were warm and gentle, firm and steady
They connected with an older pair of hands
Lifted him up and helped him stand
Too weak to walk the hands carried
They’re movements urgent and hurried
They landed in a heap six hands six feet
In one massive synchronised heart beat
The hands connected once again
The two rested his head against an aged tree trunk then
He heard the roars
Of anger soar
Soundtrack of sirens screech
He heard a voice high and loud preach
No Justice! No Peace!
No Justice! No Peace!
One hand connected to a loud hailer
The other raised high in a fist of anger
Or maybe strength and determination
It seemed to give the gathering crowd inspiration
His breathing was started to regulate now
He strained his neck to see why and how
They’d come so bravely to his rescue
Saving him from the boys in blue
Wondering at this act of humanity
Still shocked by the reality
Of what might have been
Struck that people who didn’t know him
Would put at risk their own safety
It really got to him emotionally
But now the shouts were urgent, faster
He sensed danger and disaster
Could see riot police charging towards them
Tried to stand up but then
Too weak fell back to the ground
Covered his ears from the deafening sound
And just as one police officer spotted him there
The familiar hands connected here
Just as they had before
Now joined by many more
They formed a chain unbreakable
To him it was incredible
Arm in arm hand in hand
Like a human band
Wrapped around him and the tree
Whilst the police tried desperately
To identify a link that was weaker
Assuming that they would sever
This chain so strong
But they were wrong
They stood there even after it got dark
In the middle of the royal park
And even when it began to rain
They didn’t break the chain
When lightning struck police retreated
The strength of hands connected
Led to police brutality defeated
As thunder roared he rose elated
Zita Holbourne Poet-Artist-Activist
Reblogged this on Nature’s Abhorred Vacuum.
Thank you!