I really look forward to receiving the daily emails from The Writer's Almanac. Not just for the poems, because sometimes I'm not that taken with the choice, but also for the news items. If you don't subscribe then you might want to.
The second prompt of the month is in response to Betsy Johnson-Miller's poem, 'What a mouth will do', that arrived this morning:
What a mouth will do
the impossible hope that love
will last. An end to looking
as if for one glove.
Swallow the sweet
lust of fruit—one way a body
can be pleased.
Tell others why.
Tell others nothing.
Feel the tongue and how
and mercy can flow
like a river from the north
or how it can rage as only rage can
and know there isn't much to say
from Rain When You Want Rain
© Mayapple Press, 2010
My prompt it to write about 'Hands'. You might want to use a similar title. 'What hands will do', or you might choose your own direction and title.
Here's a poem of mine that explores 'hands' but, for me, acts as an extended metaphor for trying to rid myself of something.
Letting The Side Down
I am making a map of my left hand –
drawing a line past my wrist, around
the starburst of thumb and fingers.
I circle in nails, mark the flex of tendons,
folds of knuckles, each freckle and vein.
I want to have something to remember it by –
this useless hand that cannot write, or eat
alone, or catch a ball, this hand that shrinks
from meeting people, that sometimes hides
beneath tables and curls to a limp fist.
It is less than my left foot, my left eye;
at least they have a go at competing
with the right; this hand doesn’t even try,
it trembles with the grip of scissors,
fumbles at doors, a full cup.
Stupid hand - I’ll be better off without it.
Look how confidently the right grips
a knife, not a tremor, not even when
steel breaks skin; how unselfishly
it wraps itself around the stump.
from Learning How to Fall