One Poem Only is a daily ritual: one poem, center stage, just for now.

Only SleepingJo GuzmanThe flavor of “Fuck you” smacked across my lips when I wokeNot so much in angerMore like calm clarityI touched my heart with my right handThe one that used to pledge allegiance to many thingsI believed the stories for so longThe ones about love and heroes and goodUntil I realized the truth often died with those mortally silenced because the empire said soMy hand and my heart set about their workCounter clockwise circlesUnravelling layers of grief and shame and angerNo wonder there was so much pressureAnd then I felt the flickerThat little flameThe one that never extinguished no matter whatNo matter what form of fear held me by the throat until I almost stopped caring about my own breathAlmostAlmostLittle did I know that the dragon was only sleepingDeep in my heartThe nearly obscene pressure a message from my bodyWake upThere is no hidingNo more, noneIt’s fire season, you knowAriesRising, rising, risingBurn it downFire purifiesMy heart on my hand stoppedAs I realized the gift…RestDo it nowFor the battle is comingAnd God needs her best soldiers ready

More from Jo Guzman ↓

• @mjvcoast on Instagram
• @acuppajoguzman on Substack
• Her books, Craving & 28, are out now

Support + Stay Connected to OPO

If you’d like to support the show, Substack and Patreon members receive a copy of my book, For My Daughter, along with episodes from the audiobook.

Feed yourself poetry every day.

Mentioned in this episode:

Write After: National Poetry Month with One Poem Only

Write After is a way to encourage poets to listen and write, and use National Poetry Month to highlight how listening to poetry makes us better poets. I know I write the best when I’m surrounded by beautiful poetry–it’s part of the reason I created this podcast, and I want to encourage others to share this practice.

We'll get started in April. You can share to #WriteAfterOPO.

#WriteAfterOPO

One Poem Only is a daily ritual: one poem, center stage, just for now.

10 Things to Say When Meeting a MiracleDana Kinsey~for Miraku Uwadiae1. I never knew a woman who skyscrapers a cornfield like you.2. Life plucks Hope’s feathers, but you sew them back. Never pierce my skin.3. Your “amen” translates into 500 languages, a Kapok tree teeming with animalsighs, a storm of Nigerian tears, a dog-earred book of psalms.4. I love how you allow dreams to rouse you from bed mornings when each bonewants to sink into sheets.5. You chase laughter down long dark hallways, even days with no pay and rent duesoon.6. A GED agreed that your mind opens wide for knowledge, even dead Americanpresidents who never spoke your name.7. The 3-year-old boy clinging to you hears Love whisper in his ear, tell him he’ssmart and strong, bold and funny, kind and gentle, even when he’s tangled innoise.8. Isn’t it wild how you traveled 5,499 miles to a new continent to teach meChristmas lights aren’t strung on fir trees?9. Your smile in scrubs on CNA pinning day was 8th Wonder-worthy, themasterpiece I’ve waited my life to see.10. You are my country; I pledge allegiance to you.

More from Dana Kinsey ↓

• @dana.kinsey on Instagram
• Dana is the founder and director of a project called The Lancaster Living Poetry Museum; 20 performers embody diverse poets throughout our city this May. It's an interactive community initiative. As Lancaster City Poet Laureate, she created the project as a way to edu-tain our city.

Support + Stay Connected to OPO

If you’d like to support the show, Substack and Patreon members receive a copy of my book, For My Daughter, along with episodes from the audiobook.

Poetry shows us what we need. Thank you for being part of the experience.

Mentioned in this episode:

Write After: National Poetry Month with One Poem Only

Write After is a way to encourage poets to listen and write, and use National Poetry Month to highlight how listening to poetry makes us better poets. I know I write the best when I’m surrounded by beautiful poetry–it’s part of the reason I created this podcast, and I want to encourage others to share this practice.

We'll get started in April. You can share to #WriteAfterOPO.

#WriteAfterOPO

One Poem Only is a daily poetry podcast offering a quiet moment with a single poem—read aloud, without analysis or noise.

Lot: Vacant, NotDanielle Eleanor LavalleLet me pick you a bouquet,cracked-asphalt-flowers — who do not know that they are garbage:Blue violet Chicory, straight, straight, straight,reaching for a Mediterranean sun that isn’t hereDaisies at last,in neat clumps — safe from the weedwhackerHawkweed splaying wildly — used to being called ‘skinny dandelion’Mischievous Asters (too early)awaiting autumn to explode between the fences and towers of Goldenrodpetals like fraying thread:deep purple,stained barely pink,yellow,whiteWild Bergamot, unexpected,daring you to call it ‘sparse thistle’,almost fuchsia frilled tendrils embracing thebouncing inand bouncing outof eager beesA single raspberry coloured Poppy, that planted itselfon the margins of cement border and sidewalkNo flower— that grows in a used-up-poisoned-discarded space —is garbage

More from Danielle Eleanor Lavalle ↓

• @danielleeleanorlavalle on Instagram

Support + Stay Connected to OPO

If you’d like to support the show, Substack and Patreon members receive a copy of my book, For My Daughter, along with episodes from the audiobook.

Poetry sustains. Thank you for supporting the podcast.

Mentioned in this episode:

Write After: National Poetry Month with One Poem Only

Write After is a way to encourage poets to listen and write, and use National Poetry Month to highlight how listening to poetry makes us better poets. I know I write the best when I’m surrounded by beautiful poetry–it’s part of the reason I created this podcast, and I want to encourage others to share this practice.

We'll get started in April. You can share to #WriteAfterOPO.

#WriteAfterOPO

A daily reading from One Poem Only—a quiet space for a single poem, read aloud.

Then maybe it would mean somethingE E NisbetThen maybe it would mean something:If your sorry could un-scream,vacuum spit-sprayed particles,suck up fucks, threats and bullshit,Un-drink, choke it back into the glass,take back your money,If your sorry could drag updregs of saline from blotted paper,Sculpt it back into a tear or twoand roll them backwards up my face,If your sorry could un-scar my skin,build the sharpener back together,Draw together the wet ravines of skin like a zip,un-lift the flap of scab, un-openthe sealed-shut mouth of a silvering scar,un-lick the wounds,If my okay could un-crash those cars,fuse together splintered glass, pull spinesBack into alignment, un-slip discs,stitch back skin spread thin across tarmac,unblock the roads,

More from E E Nisbet ↓

• @_.eva_.n on Instagram
• She offers writing on commission. DM her for more info.

Support + Stay Connected to OPO

If you’d like to support the show, Substack and Patreon members receive a copy of my book, For My Daughter, along with episodes from the audiobook.

Poetry reminds us what matters. Thank you for listening.

Mentioned in this episode:

Write After: National Poetry Month with One Poem Only

Write After is a way to encourage poets to listen and write, and use National Poetry Month to highlight how listening to poetry makes us better poets. I know I write the best when I’m surrounded by beautiful poetry–it’s part of the reason I created this podcast, and I want to encourage others to share this practice.

We'll get started in April. You can share to #WriteAfterOPO.

#WriteAfterOPO

One Poem Only is a daily poetry podcast offering a quiet moment with a single poem—read aloud, without analysis or noise.

Melancholy InkDita IndradiSadness learned my namebefore I learned how to answer.It waitsbehind my teethwhen I say I’m fine.I used to shakethe moment I knew.Hands too loud.Breath missing.My heart runninglike it heard somethingI couldn’t.Heat rushingthrough narrow places,every nerve lit uplooking for an exit.Now, when the same knowing comes,my body does something else.It goes quiet.No shaking.No warning.Just the sudden absenceof feeling.Like someonestepped out of the roomand left the lights on.I bleed without soundand call it ink.Silence presses its thumbinto my chest,not to hurt me—just checkingif I’m still here.Some poems begin as tearsI don’t feeluntil much later.Others are the wayI leave the momentwithout moving.I write from placesthat never healed right,only learnedhow to disappear.Melancholy isn’t how I feel.It’s how my hand moveswhen I stay.I mournwhat almost worked,what hurt enoughto teach my bodyhow to leave.I don’t write to be heard.I writeso the sadness knowssomeone stayedwhen I couldn’t.

More from Dita Indradi ↓

• @uninspiringalien on Instagram
• @uninspiringalien on Medium

Support + Stay Connected to OPO

If you’d like to support the show, Substack and Patreon members receive a copy of my book, For My Daughter, along with episodes from the audiobook.

Poetry sustains. Thank you for supporting the podcast.

Mentioned in this episode:

Write After: National Poetry Month with One Poem Only

Write After is a way to encourage poets to listen and write, and use National Poetry Month to highlight how listening to poetry makes us better poets. I know I write the best when I’m surrounded by beautiful poetry–it’s part of the reason I created this podcast, and I want to encourage others to share this practice.

We'll get started in April. You can share to #WriteAfterOPO.

#WriteAfterOPO

One Poem Only is a daily ritual: one poem, center stage, just for now.

UntamedToni YoungMy hair is a cascadeof the most unruly waves.I’ve flattened her with a straightener,but she identifies as unbridled.I’ve loaded her with productsto keep her calm,but she prefers to burst througheverything that weighs her down.I’ve since resigned myselfto her defiance.When my friend saidI reminded her of a lionbecause of my wild hair,I laughed.And then I roared.

More from Toni Young ↓

• @toniyoungpoems on Instagram
• @toniyoungpoems on Substack

Support + Stay Connected to OPO

If you’d like to support the show, Substack and Patreon members receive a copy of my book, For My Daughter, along with episodes from the audiobook.

Feed yourself poetry every day.

Mentioned in this episode:

Write After: National Poetry Month with One Poem Only

Write After is a way to encourage poets to listen and write, and use National Poetry Month to highlight how listening to poetry makes us better poets. I know I write the best when I’m surrounded by beautiful poetry–it’s part of the reason I created this podcast, and I want to encourage others to share this practice.

We'll get started in April. You can share to #WriteAfterOPO.

#WriteAfterOPO

One Poem Only is a daily poetry podcast offering a quiet moment with a single poem—read aloud, without analysis or noise.

What We Don’t Put AwayNicole ShepherdIt’s mid-April,and the Christmas tree is still up.I’ve stopped turning the lights on.The crinkled plastic branchesblock the window unit I’ll need next month.When I dragged the box out in November,the lights warmed the icy air—made me believein peace on earth,goodwill to men.But now I’m tired.The faux limbs droop with evergreen shame.I can do the dishesor put it away—not both.Typical.A bowl full of jelly turned shame mascot.Even the Easter Bunny won’t stop by.I’m tired of marking timeby what I haven’t done.I want to carry the tree to storage,a singular pallbearer,before I need one.Let me mark time by what I manage—even if it’s small.Even if it’s late.Even if it’s just this.

More from Nicole Shepherd ↓

• @tenderpunkconfessional on Instagram

Support + Stay Connected to OPO

If you’d like to support the show, Substack and Patreon members receive a copy of my book, For My Daughter, along with episodes from the audiobook.

Poetry slows us down. Thank you for listening.

Mentioned in this episode:

Write After: National Poetry Month with One Poem Only

Write After is a way to encourage poets to listen and write, and use National Poetry Month to highlight how listening to poetry makes us better poets. I know I write the best when I’m surrounded by beautiful poetry–it’s part of the reason I created this podcast, and I want to encourage others to share this practice.

We'll get started in April. You can share to #WriteAfterOPO.

#WriteAfterOPO

One Poem Only is a daily ritual: one poem, center stage, just for now.

AmalgamationSophia JamesI walk to the top of the hill,The Sheffield hillThat made my accent broadMy legs - wide and sturdy,And my body - strong.The same bodyThat my Mother’s Mother’sMother had.The body that belongs to me,And in it, I belong.I stand at the top of the hill,Held up by my legs.I stick my belly out,My top rides up, and I feel a breeze.I feel the wind tickle my fingers,I clutch the air and squeeze.I clench the fingersI see my Grandma in.The fingers, my GrandmaSees her Daughter inThe fingersThat let us share ringsAnd hold onto thingsAnd peopleThat we love.The fingersThat my baby sister gripped,When she learned to stomp her legsUp the hill.That I now look over.Suddenly the noiseFizzles out.And this silence,Sets me free.My body is an amalgamationOf the womenBeforeAnd after me.

More from Sophia James ↓

• @m0nkia on Instagram
• @sophialilyj19 on Substack

Support + Stay Connected to OPO

If you’d like to support the show, Substack and Patreon members receive a copy of my book, For My Daughter, along with episodes from the audiobook.

Feed yourself poetry every day.

Mentioned in this episode:

Write After: National Poetry Month with One Poem Only

Write After is a way to encourage poets to listen and write, and use National Poetry Month to highlight how listening to poetry makes us better poets. I know I write the best when I’m surrounded by beautiful poetry–it’s part of the reason I created this podcast, and I want to encourage others to share this practice.

We'll get started in April. You can share to #WriteAfterOPO.

#WriteAfterOPO

One Poem Only is a daily ritual: one poem, center stage, just for now.

WonderKerena JoselineAfter Tuvia RubinerIf after everything that has happened you can still hold your heavy heart with all the strength you have left, and brave one day at a time,if you can still hear those orange- breasted rufous treepies singing on the electric lines at dawn,and the sparrows with their yellow beaks...don't be surprised that happiness is watching the answer to your prayers sleeping beautifully beside you,is feeling the warmth of sunrays entering your living room like hands reaching out to comfort you,is gawking at the sky turning into a riot of gold,is drinking in with delight all the tiny details of this incredible world bursting with a million miracles every second.Take heart, you do not know when and where happiness will flood over you.

More from Kerena Joseline ↓

• @kerena.j.c on Instagram

Support + Stay Connected to OPO

If you’d like to support the show, Substack and Patreon members receive a copy of my book, For My Daughter, along with episodes from the audiobook.

Poetry shows us what we need. Thank you for being part of the experience.

Mentioned in this episode:

Write After: National Poetry Month with One Poem Only

Write After is a way to encourage poets to listen and write, and use National Poetry Month to highlight how listening to poetry makes us better poets. I know I write the best when I’m surrounded by beautiful poetry–it’s part of the reason I created this podcast, and I want to encourage others to share this practice.

We'll get started in April. You can share to #WriteAfterOPO.

#WriteAfterOPO

One Poem Only is a daily poetry podcast offering a quiet moment with a single poem—read aloud, without analysis or noise.

Dystopian Dirges (United Healthcare)Amelia WickerRubbish or treasureWho is to measureThe value of a life cast aside?Nickeled and dimedWithout reason or rhymeDelayed and denied a day’s breathWho lives and who dies?Who’s the lord of the flies?This dystopian surmise too grim to speakFalse gods of profit and powerClaiming souls by the hourGrowing strong from the plight of the weakNo penance for crimes68,000 timesNew dirges ring with each blink of an eyeMercenary marionettes lieDeaf to the bereft criesAscension ripe for the fall after prideWhen a carpenter by tradeFierce and tender will say“I was thirsty, you gave me no drink”“But sir, we never met”How conveniently they forgetThey met Jesus in the least of all these

More from Amelia Wicker ↓

• @poison.or.grapes_poetry on Instagram

Support + Stay Connected to OPO

If you’d like to support the show, Substack and Patreon members receive a copy of my book, For My Daughter, along with episodes from the audiobook.

Poetry sustains. Thank you for supporting the podcast.

Mentioned in this episode:

Write After: National Poetry Month with One Poem Only

Write After is a way to encourage poets to listen and write, and use National Poetry Month to highlight how listening to poetry makes us better poets. I know I write the best when I’m surrounded by beautiful poetry–it’s part of the reason I created this podcast, and I want to encourage others to share this practice.

We'll get started in April. You can share to #WriteAfterOPO.

#WriteAfterOPO