What Are We Laker Patience What are we? is there even a we, or is it possibly just a you and a me, a concoction of delusion, desire, mismatched expectations with no actual communication.What are we? what is this? Because my soul can't keep skinny dipping in the misread signals of others, it can't! My heart can't keep bungee jumping off of platforms made from shaky commitment, committing to shaky commitment, it's exhausting, it's exhausting to keep trying to cultivate seeds in farm lands offered to you as fertile, that bear testimony of harvest, of bounty,to watch them yield for everyone else except you! I can't keep stripping for eyes that refuse to see me, why bare my soul when the only parts of me you desire to see naked are flesh, my breasts, hips, butt and lips that don't speak, as though if they could you'd even bother to listen, I can't! Can't keep holding open houses for the prime real estate that is my body, existence, being, to have prospects take tours, show interest, ask questions, eat cookie, make offers,only for them to turn around and declare I am not what they're looking for.it's dangerous how proficient I've gotten at deploying parachutes during trust falls, at spotting plot holes in confessions and pot holes in promises, surprised only if they remain unbroken I can't!can't keep putting my love up for adoption, can't keep fostering it in seemingly loving homes, only for it to keep being returned to me, each time a little more traumatized, each time a little more broken, So..before we waste my time,before we paint memories in vibrant sounds and over saturated colors, that I'll only recall In greys as fantasy, before we make me believe that I jumped of the edge alone, unprompted, with delusion as my safety instructor and your words in my ears and hand in mine, make belief before we gaslight me into believing that your actions didn't drive me to conclusions of claim, of more, knowing full well that 93% of all communication is nonverbal..before we subject me to all that,and I'm forced to look with eyes puffy and incapable of seeing myself attached to worth, Forced to look with those eyes for all the parts of me that make me defective and unworthy of love with weight, with claim, Again! what are we? what is this? Because it feels kinda shaky.

More from Laker Patience ↓

• @laker.p_poet on Instagram
• Her poetry anthology, Echoes of Colour, will be out soon

Mentioned in this episode:

Join the mailing list to be the first to know when OPO submissions open ⬇️

🖋️ Read My Newsletter: Free Flow 🖋️

i don't remember being small Momena Khan i was sitting beside her, my not-sister. we were eating oranges and she was laughing with her whole mouth open like joy had never betrayed her. i held my fruit too carefully, too clean, trying not to let the juice run down my wrists.
she said, you never eat like you're hungry. i said, i don’t think i am.
i don’t remember being small. there are photos of me, hair sticking out in all directions, one sock off, holding a stick like it was a sword. i must have been wild, once. i must have screamed and reached for things. but the memory of that version of me has been folded up so many times, the edges have worn off. i only know her through photographs.
i used to think gentleness was my personality. it took me ten years to realize it was fear.
when i was twelve i stopped raising my voice. stopped correcting people when they said my name wrong. i learned the art of shrinking, i mistook stillness for safety. but safety is not always safe. sometimes it is just hiding in better lighting.
she said, you can take the last orange. i said, you can have it. i always say that. i always let them have it. but i wanted it too. i did.
i think i’m just waiting for someone to notice.
i think i’m just waiting for someone to say, take it.
i think i’m just waiting to be small again.

More from Momena Khan ↓

• @still.in.my.d4afts_ on Instagram

Mentioned in this episode:

Join the mailing list to be the first to know when OPO submissions open ⬇️

🖋️ Read My Newsletter: Free Flow 🖋️

Here’s your recap of this week’s poems plus one new poem to carry us into the week ahead.

Oct 20 - Places Passing By by Paige Keller @pk_fictions on Instagram. Her book, Now Everything Changes, is available now from her website: pkfictions.com.

Oct 21 - Keeping It This Way by Swan Melloh @three.letters.poetry on Instagram. Her poem, This is my insides, is published in the Spring/Summer 2025 issue of Kailon Magazine.

Oct 22 - "If love were a predator," by McKenzie Hager @lavendermorbs on Instagram. Her book, Ink, Grace, and F-Bombs, is out now. Listen to me read another poem by McKenzie on Instagram @rembrandts.cure.

Oct 23 - Seventh Wonder by Jesujoba Isaac @jobathepoete on Instagram where he merges poetry and fashion.

Oct 24 - Bills for Bills of Bills for Bills by Charlotte Stuart @charli_is_not_simba on Instagram.

Oct 25 - Garden of Eden by Yonsiri Rojas @lvrimar on Instagram.

Oct 26What 42 years of life have taught me
It’s dangerous to be afraid all the time.Afraid to loveAfraid to loseAfraid of yourself 
Afraid of your deepest, darkest thoughtsAfraid to know, really know those around you
Afraid the rugs gonna be pulled outJust as soon as something good happens Afraid to think those thoughts 
Afraid of too much joy Or too little
Afraid things will never be this good again
Afraid of change—That unrelenting path forward The march to an inevitable end
Afraid of death
Afraid of life
Afraid of what other people think of you, say about you behind your back
All these fears are dangerous because they are untrue
There is nothing we can control with worryOr knowledge Or prayers
We can control our fearWe can choose to no longer be afraid By choosing to wake up every day in the wild, wild world,Claiming our life as our ownEven as fear simmers around us.
-Maggie Devers

More from Maggie Devers ↓

• Read my debut poetry book, For My Daughter
• Follow me on Instagram for more poetry @rembrandts.cure

Mentioned in this episode:

Join the mailing list to be the first to know when OPO submissions open ⬇️

🖋️ Read My Newsletter: Free Flow 🖋️

Garden of Eden Yonsiri Rojas lulling sunbeam through the boughssoothing ballad of a plum-haired dollhazy notes of pure joy
her naked feet wet in fresh springicy water against bare sweet skina dim lonely shadow dancing to the sun
gauzy white dress softer thandandelions blown to an open skyotherworldly feeling of redemption
a honeyed fragrant apricot in milky palms;juicy flesh that gently stains her wristsconsume its almond-like pit, enjoy and die

More from Yonsiri Rojas ↓

• @lvrimar on Instagram and Substack

Mentioned in this episode:

Join the mailing list to be the first to know when OPO submissions open ⬇️

🖋️ Read My Newsletter: Free Flow 🖋️

Bills for Bills of Bills for Bills Charlotte Stuart They hand me bills for bills of bills for bills,Stacked like bricks in window sills.                                                                    Pay what you owe, then pay what comes.A tangled song the system hums:
A doctor’s bill, a phone bill too,A bill to tell me rent is due.A bill for water, light, and gas;A bill to fix my metro pass.I pay a bill to check my bills,
Then pay again for late fee thrills.They charge me more for paying late;A bill for daring to hesitate.It’s bills for bills of bills for bills,A dance of digits, endless hills.
Money earned is money gone,Before I’ve even stretched or yawned.A meal? A book? A dream to chase?Not now! Another bill takes place.
It’s bills for debt and debt for bills,A quiet war without the kills.And still I smile, still I sign,Still I queue up in the line.Because the world spins, groans, and drills,On bills  for bills   of bills    for bills.

More from Charlotte Stuart ↓

• @charli_is_not_simba on Instagram

Mentioned in this episode:

Join the mailing list to be the first to know when OPO submissions open ⬇️

🖋️ Read My Newsletter: Free Flow 🖋️

Seventh Wonder Joba the Poète Seven wonders of the worldyet I trip like the leaning tower of Pisawhen you sing out my namewith a nine minus two, or rather still,six plus one,the seventh scale of the seventh chordyou love the most.
What a time to feel this way,even such is time—and perchance God did not rest onthe seventh day,perhaps He spent seven more hoursperfecting your seventieth curve.
But I do not know this story of creationso well as to whether they were seven daysor they were seven years,because a woman as you couldn't have been madein seven rushing minutes, out from seven mortal ribs.
But my darling, I do know what I'll do for you:I'll cross seven seas,witness the fall of seven suns,I'll sing you seven songsin seven different languages,seven-seven, double sevensin sevenfolds, seven seventeens,count my lives, I've got seven of theseand in each of them I'll choose you,seven times.
I'll love you like we're in the seventies,nineteen seventy-one,seventy-one times seven million ways,seven discos, seven Star Wars, seven happy days,you're my seventh of perfections,my seven muses on seven rainy days,you are, my love, the seventh wonderof this wonderful world.

More from Joba the Poète ↓

• @jobathepoete on Instagram where he merges poetry and fashion

Mentioned in this episode:

Join the mailing list to be the first to know when OPO submissions open ⬇️

🖋️ Read My Newsletter: Free Flow 🖋️

If love were a predator,I’d let it hunt me down.
While it prowled,I’d shuffle the leavesjust enough to be heard.
I’d welcome the weightof its body against mine.And when it struck,I’d go down smiling—
Let it take me.Let it tear me open.
Let me blissfully bleed my life awayas its mouth claimed the tender fleshof my thigha mark not of death,but devotion.
Because life without loveis just survivalanyway.
-M.L.

More from McKenzie Hager ↓

• @lavendermorbs on Instagram
• Her book, Ink, Grace, and F-Bombs, is out now.

Listen to me read another poem by McKenzie on Instagram @rembrandts.cure

Mentioned in this episode:

Join the mailing list to be the first to know when OPO submissions open ⬇️

🖋️ Read My Newsletter: Free Flow 🖋️

Keeping It This Way Swan Melloh I am not your propertyI rather tell myself than youwho wears oblivion for shoes,walks without a knowing heart.
I suppose it´s easierto leave you there without a clue,words unspoken in their truth,better gone, and far apart.
Don´t you ever stop to wonderwho´s the mistress of this distance?Call me goddess of this state,yet, would you ever know?
We should be the ending,not like my ancient persistence,not of love, not out of hate,not fading to ever grow.
This much I can answer you:Intimacy won´t reappear.Has it ever been of presencewhile you broke my core?
Eyes will slip some knowledge,fingertips soft, now free of fear,claiming just my roaring essencewhile denial rules no more.

More from Swan Melloh ↓

• @three.letters.poetry on Instagram and Substack
• Her poem, This is my insides, is published in the Spring/Summer 2025 issue of Kailon Magazine

Mentioned in this episode:

Join the mailing list to be the first to know when OPO submissions open ⬇️

🖋️ Read My Newsletter: Free Flow 🖋️

Places Passing By Paige Keller Sitting on a patio sipping tea under the sun, writing notes intomy phone through the breeze. Imagining different days and newways to live - a place where I am me, whomever she is.
Some place where you walk by and we are reintroduced for thevery first time. Your eyes and mine. Our minds far away andfamiliar - different now but two souls the same.
A breath of nostalgia and suddenly there’s a smell that I canalmost pinpoint but can never place. I imagine an embrace and a deep inhale of your essence but say hey - I stay seated.
I’m not quite sure if you’re thinking the same or counting theseconds till you can turn and walk off - to the better placesyou’ve found while I was drifting
                                      so


                                                far


                                                        away.

More from Paige Keller ↓

• @pk_fictions on Instagram
• Her book, Now Everything Changes, is available now from her website: pkfictions.com

Mentioned in this episode:

Join the mailing list to be the first to know when OPO submissions open ⬇️

🖋️ Read My Newsletter: Free Flow 🖋️

Here’s your recap of this week’s poems plus one new poem to carry us into the week ahead.

Oct 13 - House of Childhood by Nataša Benedičič @natasek_poetry_corner on Instagram. Childhood Reveries is her Substack. Her book, Whispers of the Inner Child, is out now.

Oct 14 - "Where will we get" by Sophia Nerenberg @sophia_the_writer10 on Instagram

Oct 15 - "I want to escape this world." by Lipy Goyal @thediaryofscript on Instagram. You can listen to me read another poem by Lipy on Instagram @rembrandts.cure

Oct 16 - Love Letter to the Lesion in My Brain by Erin Zarro @erinzpoetry on Instagram. Her two chapbooks, Life as a Moving Target, and Without Wings, are available now.

Oct 17 - Tell Me by Evita Arakelian @dipped_in_words on Instagram. She teaches poetry to all ages with tailor-made syllabi, individual and group instruction; independently as well as on platforms like SuperProf. You can find the latest information on her Linktree.

Oct 18 - "I dream of a happy ending." by Alena Peacock @n0t.a.poet on Instagram.

Oct 19 - Cast Off Maggie DeversThe elephant seal sheds all the skin from her body once a year.Catastrophic molt they call it.This is necessary because when she stops breathing for two hoursCollapsing her lungsDiving deep, sometimes a mileTo feast on bioluminescent creatures in the ocean's depths,She pulls blood from her skin to her organs.She must keep her heart warm if she's to have any chance to survive.

More from Maggie Devers ↓

• Read my debut poetry book, For My Daughter
• Follow me on Instagram for more poetry @rembrandts.cure

Mentioned in this episode:

Join the mailing list to be the first to know when OPO submissions open ⬇️

🖋️ Read My Newsletter: Free Flow 🖋️