His life's work
made in three parts
a creation of pure brilliance
once shown, they said
"But it wasn't his hand that wrote it"
His life's love
vowed for forever
boasted upon, shone bright in his heart
his wife told of her happiness,
"But it wasn't your hand that made it so"
His life's end
a crime in a neighboring town
thrashed in the public eye
blamed, belittled, hanged
but it wasn't his hand that took a life.
From www.notwithoutpoetry.wordpress.com:
Wrong Hands
Mike says: I am recently obsessed with magic. Not just any magic. The top shelf stuff. Homer Liwag is an amazing slight of hand artist, and yet he is known for having “the worst hands in magic.” By some bad luck of the genetic draw, they are chronically as dry as the desert. This is one of the reasons I find Homer’s performance so poetic, the striking contrast between the beauty of the movement and his “retired” hands. They seem like the wrong hands…not to mention the fact that when you’re looking for the coins, you are almost always looking at the wrong hand.
No comments:
Post a Comment