One Poem Only

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

HomecomingKara DobiasThe world wants to be kind, I think.But too often, we are warned of its dangersbefore we can meet its light.I learned to live in the shadowof others’ fear and felt it manifestas my own,self-censoring the softestparts of me out of safety,but I’m becoming something new.I don’t want to be good so much as brave.To make the agreement to be disagreeablewhen it counts.If I am to be beholden to anything,let it betruth,so that I may stand as a pillar of a womanyou can lean on.I’ll lay myself bare,and for once, not worry aboutthe consequences.Instead, I’ll choose to embracethe perfect contradictionI know myself to be.The very version of me I learnedto outrun.You can only ignore the gnawing of your soul for so long.So, who have I been denying myself for?An internal tug-of-war that has stood onlyto hurt me.To be a beacon of sincerity,I must show you my true face.I’m easily disillusioned by the mundane.The creator runs deep in my marrow.Left an untapped well,I become undone.I need something I can pour into.That’s the only wayI feel whole.I was never meant to live within the boundsof a limited imagination.I came here to break the mold.This is the end of my season of seeking.No more performing to be palatable.I give myself permission to feel safein being seen.Let opinions fall where they may.I’d rather inspire confusionthan be a vessel for unfulfilled dreams.Finally, I’ve come hometo me.

More from Kara Dobias ↓

• @karadobias on Instagram
• @karadobias on Substack
• Her book, Alive, 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 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 ritual: one poem, center stage, just for now.

“Once a palm reader told me”Ariel KashaOnce a palm reader told memy head and my heart linelay completely intertwinedShe called it "steamy palms"no separation between the two.she said it makes me an incredible loverbut I would never be able to experience a casual connection.I asked if I could unzip my heart from skin and place it on icethe drive through sex line seems so easy.unfortunately my body does not seem to digestsynthetic meatfast food is deadand i want to eat lifebut my heart has stitchesand I am weary of sewingshe shook her head,a taste will never sufficea soul that was made to devourand be swallowed whole.turns outshe wasa very good palm reader.

More from Ariel Kasha ↓

• @arielkashaceli on Instagram
• Her book, Luna di Sirena: Love Letters from the Tide, 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.

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.

Cradle Meagan Sexton I feel storm-woven into exhale,loud rage of drumpreludes river current tears. Lightening unlids origami eyes—folded corners open as wings of swan take flight to the light.Repression dissipates with release—we speak in tongue of stardust,tender bouts of longing lift by sigh.Fingertips brush skin in feathered silence;this sheen of want cocoons stability. I rainin contemporary know,a rumble of reached echo held like the breath of reason;a cradle of taut vision.

More from Meagan Sexton ↓

• @soul.spills10 on Instagram
• @meaganswrites on Substack
• Her books, Riptides and Rapture and A Sliding Light, are 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 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 Only is a daily ritual: one poem, center stage, just for now.

Tower MomentBelly Luxa little aftercarea little Sugar For The Pillplaying low in the backgroundCarharrt and red lace in puddlesbut there is no sun left for meand no more sunday kind of loveTobacco Vanille and one meal a dayit’s the year of the skin, the year of rejectionour world is locked up and my lips are zippedbecause it’s bad luck when more people knowso i stitch my guts back insideand i keep it all within memonogamy is out of seasonyet i’m loyal to the fantasy alonei’m drawn out by the divine timingi’m seeing numbers, patterns, and signsand in a collision of planets, in saturns returnthe universe pulls us back together in one last efforti see you, and in my nature, i smile,my heart reaching out more than everi see you come, i see you go, and i forgive the fluidityit’s a tower moment for me, for usrealising the only control i have is over myselfit all boils down to just one thing, it’s my one lifewhat will i do with it? and what is it that i want?

More from Belly Lux ↓

• @bellylux 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.

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 ritual: one poem, center stage, just for now.

On the Roof I SeeMirela SalihovicMy little sister and I,When we’re in the tent,love to play a game.We call it:"On the roof I see..."And whoever’s turn it issays what they see on the tent’s roof.On the roof I see…Birds of all sizes.They land on the tent roofand tiptoe across the canvaswith their tiny feet.They wander back and forth.I hear them chirping.Winter is coming.It will be cold under the tent.Mom will bring more blankets and quiltsfrom the humanitarian aid.Father’s friend Ahmedused to sell beautiful quiltsin his little shopat the end of the street.Before they threw rocks at itand destroyed it.The birds fly off to warmer places.On the roof I see…Raindrops.They sparkle in the morning sunlike crystals.On the roof I see…Leaves falling from the treesin autumn.Our old mulberry tree didn’t survive the shell.My sister and Ihid in its trunkwhen we played hide-and-seek.We would hang from its branches.Mom made homemade jamfrom its white clusters.On the roof I see…The moon and stars.The tent’s roof is see-through,so at night,when the sky is clear,you can see the moon and stars.On the roof I see…Mom dustingand bird droppings.On the roof I see…The roof of our old house.Dad says:"When the war is over, we’ll come backand rebuild everything.With our own hands."On the roof I see…I want to believe my dad.I want to go back to elementary school.If there were no war,I’d be in seventh grade.I want to play hide-and-seek againwith my sisterand hide in the old mulberry tree.I want to see my best friend, Omar.I wish we could play with paper airplanes.The ones flying above us nowaren’t as fun.And when I hear the sound of those airplanes nearby,I hold my sisterand lay her head on my chest.And I tell her that on the roof I see…Flowers of every colorgrowing from the tent’s canvas,as if from the earth itself.

More from Author ↓

• @salihowitch 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.

Crushed Peaches In PalmPaige KellerThis poem was first featured in Mad Persona MagazineI am gathering my memories like peaches,plucking each from the most recluse of branches,filling up my baskets,my bruised knees - purple and blueContrast these pristine fruits,bright and sweet.When I have climbed to the top of the verylast tree where that very last fruit lay,when my baskets are full,my evasive past – I will consumeI will desolate the pristine fruit,swallow its pits whole.Until I am filled to no measure, until peachpits weigh me down, until they take rootinside of me and grow w i l d l y.

More from Paige Keller ↓

• Her website: pkfictions.com
• @pk_fictions on Instagram
• @pkfictions 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

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

Mastering the PenEllie AugustinI learned the weight of a penthe way warriors learn steelnot in theory,but in the quiet repetitionof showing up again.By survival.In my hand, it is not delicate.It is trained.It knows how to press into a sentenceand when to lift,how to cut cleanlywithout tearing the page.I learned this among books.Among shelves that holdwhat others survived long enough to say.Among spines that stand uprightafter everything it took to write them.This is where I am safestinside ink,inside margins that do not interrupt me,inside pages that let me finishwithout asking me to soften the truth.A bookstore breathes with this permission.The hush is not silence.It is respect.Every aisle is lined with proof:each book once a private reckoning,each chapter a decision to stay,each author wielding the same instrumentuntil it obeyed.I walk slowly herebecause I am already among my own.Because every title was once a handlearning the same discipline I am still mastering.And I dreamwithout spectacleof the day my fingers stop tracing spinesand recognize themselves.Not as victory.As belonging.That I learned the bladeinside these walls.That I survived the writing.That one day my book will stand here tooquiet, upright,having earned its placeamong endurancebound in paperand called literature.

More from Ellie Augustin ↓

• Her blog, Lines Between Living
• @lines_between_living_now on Instagram
• @linesbtwnliving 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 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

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

CAUTION: STUDENT DRIVERCarly ThompsonI’ve jumped out of the boatthe churning water turns to smokemy mind is a black sand beachthe world is one of those where time is differentslow, fast, all at once, almost neverif a window doesn’t open, is it a wall?is it even there?the cows die all at once and we don’t ask whywe buy sheep instead, not for milk for woolit is not enough to be called sad and beautifulremarkable or terrifyingit is not enough to pick up the phoneto text back, to cry on cueI hover over that plane where one highwaymeets another, no one ever taught me to merge

More from Carly Thompson ↓

• @comehither_poetry on Instagram
• @comehither 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 ritual: one poem, center stage, just for now.

To Be a Salamander Rachel Turney I want to be like you. I crave your regenerative abilities.Does the heart count as a limb? If so, I could regrow thepart that is now missing, rebuild sinuous tissues andthe fat of my epicardium.I want to wallow in the petrichor and muddy places. Iwant to glide between the fallen leaves and tadpoles.My skin would breathe, my lips smell, my world wouldbe trickling water in this moss forest.I would darn socks for my four toes. One tiny bit ofwool to cover each one so that I might step with easefrom chilled rock to frozen ground as winter comes.

More from Rachel Turney ↓

• @turneytalks on Instagram
• Rachel Turney on Substack
• Her book, Women Making Soup Together, is out now with Vinegar Press

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.

Not mine anymore Avalon If my words are my ownThey are all that I haveExcept... that’s not quite rightIf my words are my ownThey abandon me when I most need itAnd, that never feels rightMy words are my ownAnd they blink in and outA lighthouse on the shoreWhile I’m drowningMy words are my ownAnd others desperately pry them out of meA clam with a pearlA person blinded by the rewardMy words are my ownThey yearn to hear itMy words are my ownMy words are my-My words are-My words-My words are my ownI cannot repeat themUtterance loses meaningIf my words are my ownWhy must I give them away?

More from Avalon ↓

• @avalonspoems on Instagram
• Her book, Sorry, I didn’t mean to make it weird, 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 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