Welcome to the thirtieth day of our 30/30!
After you respond to this prompt, I have a strict assignment for you: put on some insanely good music and have yourself a dance party. You did it! You are a poetry superhero!
Your prompt today is:
Within my hands
Alternatively: Without / Beneath / Above / Use a preposition that challenges
your hands’ usual behaviors or usage
Thanks for going the distance with us. It’s been a genuine delight. Whatever you do, keep writing!
Guidelines, if you want them:
- Posting your response is not required
- Feel free to post your response 🙂
- This is not meant to be the perfect first draft – respond without hesitation for 5-7 minutes, then keep going if you want to
- While our prompts are geared towards poetry, we welcome all kinds of artists
- Tips & encouragement are here
QuillsEdge Press 
Thank you for a great month of prompts! I’m about five days behind, so i get to keep doing them into May.
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Pingback: #NationalPoetryMonth’16 Round-up (Day 30) | Bonespark~
Within my hands, every part of my body resides –
my kidneys, my heart, my lungs – all
have a touch point, a receptor for harm or healing.
I practice mudras, folding finger on finger,
touching thumb to fingertip,
curling and cradling fingers to palm,
stroking middle finger upward to lower blood pressure.
Even folding hands in prayer is prayer.
Isaiah is filled with declarations that
“I will hold you always in the palm of my hand”.
Within my hands is grace,
the promise of life, of love, of care.
I simply have to take hold.
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Within my Hands
Today, count the flow of water,
bubbles of suds from the organic
soap lady two cities away to the
west. Grasp the steering wheel,
navigate keys and doors, let
music flow through, note to
fingers.
In the garden, work
the dirt to a fine trickle and
plant the little tubs of new
sage, their silvery green
leaves trembling in the
harsh wind of the cold front.
Give solace to the tortoise
shell cat that comes for a
quick pat, and wave at the
one too shy to come. Lastly,
clip the long stems of the
iris, the prickly webs of roses,
and press them into the black
vase.
Remember the little boy with his
bright blue cast, the one whose
right hand was shot off while
he rode in his car seat with his
mother. How everyone said it was
such a random thing, the way he
got caught in the crossfire between
the gangs, but he is without a hand
for life. Press palms together, and
pray then in your own way, blow
words into blessings: you, him.
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As always a beautiful and genuine offering. You have been a faithful comrade, one I could rely on to post for the duration and inspire me keep on keepin’ on:) Today would be the day to go have a glass of wine or a beer, but we are probably five states apart and maybe recluses to bat!!! Anyway you get my drift – thank you over and over again. May all your flowers bloom until we meet again. Peace…
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Igualmente! I have enjoyed our similarities across time and space and we have born testimony to the truth that is poetry: a universal language with which to encapsulate our experience and then simultaneously expand it. Please continue to write and perhaps our paths will cross again. Don’t wait for a reason: write and above all poem.
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Much gratitude to all at QuillsEdge for the National Poetry Month prompts and the chance to be spontaneous in our sharing. All blessings……
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