One Poem Only

One Poem More gathers all of this week’s poems from One Poem Only—an unhurried chance to listen again, or catch what you missed.

This week’s poems

• “Words don’t even flow to me anymore” by Lisa Le Guiader
• The Return of Titans by Kate M. Sine
• Sunday Ritual by Evyan Roberts
• Prince of Marble by Auri Tunglsdottir
• Ice Box Woes by JACK"E"
• Women of Stardust and Soil by Steph Patterson

Plus one new one to carry us into the week ahead

A BaptismMaggie DeversI’m terrified of having to burn it all down to start again.The way a fire eats a mountainComes rushing down a ridgeOut of controlLike when you ran down a hillAnd couldn’t slow your legsWithout tumbling over yourselfHead firstThe way you felt sublimely alive when you sat up, spitting grass, to pull that first clean breath,feel your heart beat out your ears and pulse to the strawberry on your knee.The realization that the moment you surrendered completely, you felt like you were flyingOn the way down soaring feelsThe same as fallingAnd ash cleanses like waterWhen you know how to use it

More from Maggie Devers ↓

• My debut poetry collection, For My Daughter, available as an audiobook.
• Purchase a signed copy of For My Daughter or get one free by subscribing to the podcast: One Poem Only on Patreon
• Follow me on Instagram for more poetry @rembrandts.cure

More from this week’s poets

Find links to each poet’s work, books, and social accounts in the show notes for the individual episodes.

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 is better when it’s lived with. Thank you for listening.

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

Women of Stardust and SoilSteph PattersonWe start as stardustand then soil, we become,Underneath our feetthe bones sing of so manywomen before us,Their whispers form tendrilswinding up to tip into your ear,Their stories will not be forgottenas the earth holds their proof of life,When their voices rosein anger and defianceWomen labeled as witches,spinsters, other, lesser than,The control men forced upon us,and continue to resurrect,Born of fear, and carefully tilled hatred,The women of todayborn of stardust with the soilsinging under our feet,We will not be quiet,our voices will be a cacophony.

More from Steph Patterson ↓

• @spookyspatters on Instagram
• @spookyspatters 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.

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

Mentioned in this episode:

One Poem Only submissions are open.

This round, I’m looking for poems about what remains. What stays with us when we experience change? What survives? What do we yearn to carry forward? Send me the poem you wrote and want the world to hear. Also, if you’d like to read your own poem on the podcast, you can. Submit a clear audio file recorded in a quiet space—no perfect studio recording required. And yes, your poem can have been previously published in a literary magazine, in print, or on social media. Submissions close Thursday, October 29. I’ll respond by Wednesday, November 11. Whether I read your poem or you read it yourself, I’d love to hear what you have to share.

One Poem Only Submissions Form

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

Ice Box WoesJACK”E”This freezing and thawingdosey doethe outdoors has frosted overice falls often,putting the Ice Man of historyin balmy palmsthough I hear the sunshine is dimin the panhandle.A chuck roastwhose rump has frozenrock salt sprinklingif this is dinnerI will screech on pass.

More from JACK”E” ↓

• @poetique_jacq on Instagram
• Her book, An Abbreviated Mass: A Collection of Poetry, is available 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.

Poetry sustains. Thank you for supporting the podcast.

Mentioned in this episode:

One Poem Only submissions are open.

This round, I’m looking for poems about what remains. What stays with us after we experience change? What survives? What do we yearn to carry forward? Send me the poem you wrote and want the world to hear. Also, if you’d like to read your own poem on the podcast, you can. Submit a clear audio file recorded in a quiet space—no perfect studio recording required. And yes, your poem can have been previously published in a literary magazine, a book, or on social media. Submissions close Thursday, October 29. I’ll respond by Wednesday, November 11. Whether I read your poem or you read it yourself, I’d love to hear what you have to share.

One Poem Only Submissions Form

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

Prince of MarbleAuri TunglsdottirI’ve put you on a pedestalFor some reason.One day it was there,And I put you up,It looked right.I’ve made you a statue of marble and gold,Shining in the dark – the moon looks dull compared to you;Glowing in the sun – that’s learning how to look golden from you.I’ve made you immortalBy creating an image that will live in my mind, in the universe.I’ve made you a thought that flies through galaxies,Like a beam of light, carrying a message.I’ve written poems,Dozens over dozens,One longer than the other,One saying less than the other,And all of them screaming to be heard,Doing their best to express my inner world.I’ve filled a whole book with you,So I can put it on the shelf with things dear to me.I could fill another hundred,But I would be repeating myself.And I wouldn’t get tired of it,Of reliving every moment, remembering every word,Feeling every glance of yours again.The glance I longed for that strongly,That I wished for a different version of our lives.One on the surface of this ocean of dreams,On the land that means certainty.But that would mean giving up myself.I almost sold my voice to be able to walk with you.But I knew you would never see meThe way I wished for for so long,And I wouldn’t want to kill your happinessBy wishing for mine to come true.What if I’m only in love with a statue,With an idea, with an illusion, with a dream?I will leave my ocean,But not to be with you.I will travel the world with the birds,And the waves of the sea,The dolphin will carry me to unknown shores,Until I’ve seen everything.Until the laughs of a child will make me immortal as well.I’ll watch over you and your princess,As you sail on.My tears will stream home,And I will feel human, and love.I’ll kiss her on the forehead,I’ll wave at you and smile,And though I’m not the sea foam,I’m part of the blue sky.

More from Auri Tunglsdottir ↓

• @songsofsunandmoon.official 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 reminds us what matters. Thank you for listening.

Mentioned in this episode:

One Poem Only submissions are open.

This round, I’m looking for poems about what remains. What stays with us when we experience change? What survives? What do we yearn to carry forward? Send me the poem you wrote and want the world to hear. Also, if you’d like to read your own poem on the podcast, you can. Submit a clear audio file recorded in a quiet space—no perfect studio recording required. And yes, your poem can have been previously published in a literary magazine, in print, or on social media. Submissions close Thursday, October 29. I’ll respond by Wednesday, November 11. Whether I read your poem or you read it yourself, I’d love to hear what you have to share.

One Poem Only Submissions Form

Wednesdays on One Poem Only are Handpicked, a new feature where I go deeper into the poem of the day and discuss what made it stand out to me.

Sunday RitualEvyan Roberts

Residing in her pink robe, the one with the acrylic zipper in the front and the unnecessary homemaker-like lace at the collar. She sets her matching orthopedic slippers, to the side,

and kneels over the basin. Like praying to deities of Arm &; Hammer Baking Soda and Heinz

Vinegar, she bends and begins passionately scrubbing, invoking the tool of her gods – a hard bristle brush – in the aid of her task. Mumbling in tongues, over and over, watching all that build up, give way. Her muscles fight exhaustion and residue. The grout of the tiles keeping her in a tepid sweat. I faithfully observe this private Sunday performance. Now, watching her lean back, to rest on her heels, then stretch for her cigarette, it ashing down her front. The fault of ceaseless muscles, trembling from rest – inspiring her to never stop. Falling to the laced collar of her robe, an ember slowly burns. She is unmoved. Looking to the water damaged ceiling, her eyes close, smoke aims from her mouth to the broken exhaust fan. The full billow dissipates to a thinned fume as she pulls once more. And with the remainder of her smoke, kneels forward, blessing the dingy basin, enriching it in smokey prayer, alongside the delicate sacrifice of polyester burning steadily, wider and wider, against her bosom.

More from Evyan Roberts ↓

• @writing.femme on Instagram

Watch Handpicked Wednesday

A new feature where I go deeper into the poem of the day and discuss what made it stand out to me. Watch on Instagram at @rembrandts.cure.

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.

Two poems. One poet. Let the words keep moving.

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

The Return of TitansKate M. SineThe last leaf of autumn falls,striking the door like a match,lighting our world with the magic from a distant universe.We watch the spirits pass us by at the window,our breath fogging the glass as the archaic creaturespad past,shepherding their kind to safety while the world sleepsthrough December, January, and February.Karan, the goose, who slides through the air like a knife,blotting out the sky with a quilt of murmuration of different birdsas they migrate to warmer winds.Tubor, the bear, who buries beetles, boil-skinned frogs, and his brethren,ushering them to sleep.Psyche, the wolf, who suns in the graveyards,her golden eyes roll sleepily like the sun across the horizon as she watches the herds and flocks pass by.She and her kin practice mercy on these long nights,giving them a dignified death with their teeth instead of a demise in the shadow of their families.My favorite is Elpenor, the elk.The world heralds his return,the air filling with thunder as he uproots from his dimension to ours.His antlers rise over the withered woods like a crown,grazing the sky as he strides out into the open,with deer, quail, foxes, and other creatures in tow.The men scold the giant deer for taking not only the wildlife away,but women too.A symbol of the balance between fragility and strength,woeful women have asked Elpenor to take them on his odyssey by shearing off their hair until they are left with downy heads,like that of fawns.Elpenor whisks them away, taking them to cities, to towns,wherever happiness finds them.It was only this year that I learned that the lord gives his does, as they are called,a knife, hewn from an antler shed of his children.I saw it one day on my mother’s belt,and now,I have found a mysterywhere I used to be whole,a magic that I now possess.

More from Kate M. Sine ↓

• @enis.st.sparrow on Instagram
• @katemsine 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:

One Poem Only submissions are open.

This round, I’m looking for poems about what remains. What stays with us after we experience change? What survives? What do we yearn to carry forward? Send me the poem you wrote and want the world to hear. Also, if you’d like to read your own poem on the podcast, you can. Submit a clear audio file recorded in a quiet space—no perfect studio recording required. And yes, your poem can have been previously published in a literary magazine, a book, or on social media. Submissions close Thursday, October 29. I’ll respond by Wednesday, November 11. Whether I read your poem or you read it yourself, I’d love to hear what you have to share.

One Poem Only Submissions Form

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

“Words don’t even flow to me anymore”Lisa Le GuiaderWords don’t even flow to me anymoreI think tiredness got meThe source has gotten stabbedStrangled I think I’m getting tiredhaving been let to stormand bleed it out, pouring this heart soft outIn your armsOn your chestNow to your touchI’ll much preferevaporate condense awayprecipitate a mile awayI’m already boiling insideWould not need much but meet the fire, your calming touchto light it all haze out of sighttear up and down burn it all outAll hot bloodedAnd cold as iceI’d float the air, everywhere you aren’tI’d rain on you I’d rain on you hotFlashes of light flooding you highBut this ardent sea, whole into mewould do no worse as warm you upO just enoughCuddle you up snuggle you inWish you sweet dreamsand ease you upRight into sleepKiss you good nightLull you gentlywhole against me

More from Lisa Le Guiader ↓

• @studio_escargot on Instagram
• @lisaleguiader 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.

Poetry slows us down. Thank you for listening.

Mentioned in this episode:

One Poem Only submissions are open.

This round, I’m looking for poems about what remains. What stays with us after we experience change? What survives? What do we yearn to carry forward? Send me the poem you wrote and want the world to hear. Also, if you’d like to read your own poem on the podcast, you can. Submit a clear audio file recorded in a quiet space—no perfect studio recording required. And yes, your poem can have been previously published in a literary magazine, a book, or on social media. Submissions close Thursday, October 29. I’ll respond by Wednesday, November 11. Whether I read your poem or you read it yourself, I’d love to hear what you have to share.

One Poem Only Submissions Form

One Poem More gathers all of this week’s poems from One Poem Only—an unhurried chance to listen again, or catch what you missed.

This week’s poems

• What's Wrong with My Heart by Gillian Shiels
• A Few Weeks Into the Dreams by Jorge Lopez Llorente
• Benedict Fruit by Yonsiri Rojas
• Disjointed Conversations by Jean Wathugu
• Human-Nature by Katie-May Fincham
• In the Hot Spring Locker Room by Haley DiRenzo

Plus one new one to carry us into the week ahead

Shake It UpMaggie DeversI water my plants to feed myselfI feel my toes expandMy neck releaseMy lungs make room for airWe're not under the bootBut we feed itLeila Khalid said revolutionMust mean life in all formsSo I dream of life–In the plants I feed,In my daughter's wet hairI comb after she swims,In my mother's handsAs she towels off the dogWho shakes, covering usWith waterAnd we squeal in unisonAs we recall lifeAnd revolt

More from Maggie Devers ↓

• My debut poetry collection, For My Daughter, available as an audiobook.
• Purchase a signed copy of For My Daughter or get one free by subscribing to the podcast: One Poem Only on Patreon
• Follow me on Instagram for more poetry @rembrandts.cure

More from this week’s poets

Find links to each poet’s work, books, and social accounts in the show notes for the individual episodes.

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 is better when it’s lived with. Thank you for listening.

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

In the Hot Spring Locker RoomHaley DiRenzoI saw naked women scrubbing saltedskin as my mother ushered mepast. Eyes lingered on bodies rawand round. Breasts dangling, belliesdrooping. Sketched scars and stretchmarks painted in different shades.Clay earth, bruised sky, blue vein.My own body was a girl’s then.Still, I’d graduated from runningnaked through my home to needingto hide myself. I barely rememberedthe bloom of my own mother’sbreast that fed me. She toonow dressed behind closed doorsunable to know or to teachbeing seen without sex or shameor desire. Even now in a locker roomI cover quickly, but long to bethese women. Limbs sloughedpink after sinking heavyinto a hot spring. I can heartheir breathy sighs as water carvesrivers over curves. Their soft whisperssaying simply—yes.

More from Haley DiRenzo ↓

• @haleydirenzo 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:

One Poem Only submissions are open.

This round, I’m looking for poems about what remains. What stays with us when we experience change? What survives? What do we yearn to carry forward? Send me the poem you wrote and want the world to hear. Also, if you’d like to read your own poem on the podcast, you can. Submit a clear audio file recorded in a quiet space—no perfect studio recording required. And yes, your poem can have been previously published in a literary magazine, in print, or on social media. Submissions close Thursday, October 29. I’ll respond by Wednesday, November 11. Whether I read your poem or you read it yourself, I’d love to hear what you have to share.

One Poem Only Submissions Form

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

Human-NatureKatie-May FinchamIn the stillness of the awakening forest,where twilight dances with the dawn,human hearts pulse beneath the light rays,piercing the gloom like fragile promises.We wander, shadows flickering among blooms,breathing in the sweet scent of renewal,lost in the echo of stories yet to unfold.Together, we tread the sun-dappled paths,where branches stretch to embrace the light,and the wind carries whispers of ancient hope.Beneath the canopy, we are fleeting spirits,our laughter a fragile melody,swallowed by the weight of memories,as the darkness lingers,a haunting fragrance, blooming with spring.In this gentle light, we find our place,two beings woven with the wild,our dreams intertwined like ivy on the brink of life,yet always reminded of the fragile line,between warmth and the void,where every breath is a testament to our bond,illuminated by the rays that pierce the night,as spring unfurls, urging us to remember,that even in shadows, we are drawn together,bound by the cycle of light and dark.

More from Katie-May Fincham ↓

• @katie_mayportfolio on Instagram
• @katiemayartist 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.

Poetry sustains. Thank you for supporting the podcast.

Mentioned in this episode:

One Poem Only submissions are open.

This round, I’m looking for poems about what remains. What stays with us after we experience change? What survives? What do we yearn to carry forward? Send me the poem you wrote and want the world to hear. Also, if you’d like to read your own poem on the podcast, you can. Submit a clear audio file recorded in a quiet space—no perfect studio recording required. And yes, your poem can have been previously published in a literary magazine, a book, or on social media. Submissions close Thursday, October 29. I’ll respond by Wednesday, November 11. Whether I read your poem or you read it yourself, I’d love to hear what you have to share.

One Poem Only Submissions Form