One Poem Only

Mourning Politely Anne Card sorry to bother you it's just that when I was new to the world he was the first person to ever hold me please excuse me it's just that even as an adulthe'd reach for my hand to cross the roadI do apologise for going onit's just thati've lost him

More from Anne Card ↓

• @annephora on Instagram
• Anne Card - Sit for a Spell on Substack

You can listen to me read Anne Card’s poem, Motherhood, over on Instagram @rembrandts.cure

Noon. Sophie M. (Almon) Hensley 1866 – 1913 No ripple stirs the water, No song-bird wakes the grove, Calm noon-tide sways his sceptre, And hushes even love.
On earth the sun-god bending Poureth his wondrous store; The soft-tongued tide, advancing, Laps the unconscious shore.
The long, low isle of marsh-land Stretches in weary waste, By sloping sand-banks guarded, By winding weeds embraced.
Comes clearly from the open The splash of distant oars, - Over the rocky headland The snow-white sea-gull soars.
I see as if through dream-clouds, I hear from far away. The scorched air breathes its opiate, The drowsy fancies stay;
I have no hopes or longings, I scarce can feel your kiss, - For thought, and joy and worship, Another hour than this!

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

Unholy Hunger Katherine Kier the blood shed from biting my tonguetastes bitterbut you like it that waythe blood shed from the fruit between my thighsfilled with primordial recordsmetallic and clusteredrepulses youyet you wish to devour the secrets of the universeoh, the ironyyou name me temptress,then tremble at the spellyou begged to be cast underyou pray to forget mewhile carving my silhouetteinto your every loverhow many shrineswill you build from my silencebefore you admityou wanted me screaming?you speak of me in shadows,yet chase my ghost through every threshold—bride of Hades,Lilith’s grin beneath your sheets,Eve’s bite still fermenting in your gutyou call me chaosbut drink from my wellwhen your gods stop answeringI am the motherof your hungerthe altarand the ashyou bury me in storieswhere I bleed for your redemptionbut I do not die—I multiplyin every cracked mirroryou avoid at dawnyou dream of drowning in me,then wake with fists clenched,ashamed of the softnessthat split you openyou built your manhoodfrom my refusals—each “no” a nail,each glance a flameyou saw my powerand mistook it for permissionto conquerbut it was never conquest,only a mirrorreflecting what you buriedbeneath the armor—a boy with shaking hands,confusing possessionfor proof of worthyou call it lovebut it’s hungera gnawing needto disappear inside meso you don’t have to meetyour own abyssand when at lastyou find me unmoved,my back turnedlike a moon out of reach,you will screaminto the dark you made of metear at the soilsearching for the rootsof what you tried to ownbut I am not there—only echoes and dust,the scent of my leavingwoven into your breathyou will unravelthread by thread,your myths rottingin your mouthand I—I will rise from your ruinwhole,holy,and unmarkedas you weepnot for me,but for the emptinesswhere your illusion once lived

More from katherine kier. ↓

• @katherinekier on Instagram and Substack
• You can listen to her soundscapes at katherinekier.bandcamp.com

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

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

Jul 21 - Jawbone, Ribcage by Emily Holman @maximumsparrow on Instagram. Her chapbook Dreamscapes of the Metaphysical is published through 318 Journal.

Jul 22 - Morning Song of the Bees by Louisa May Alcott

Jul 23 - Wednesday Double Feature Reckoning by Anna Goodman Herrick @annagoodmanherrick on Instagram. Her book A Speaker Is a Wilderness is out now.

Jul 24 - Full and Free by Maggie Devers. Read my debut poetry book, For My Daughter. Follow me on Instagram for more poetry @rembrandts.cure.

Jul 25 - It's Not Too Late by Travis Hupp @poetryoftravishupp on Instagram. His book American Entropy is out now through Atmosphere Press.

Jul 26 - No Apologies by Michelle Vivier @michellespeakspoetry on Instagram.

June 27 -

War is a Defeat Maggie Devers After Audre Lorde When you realize the fake news is the whole system we’re stitched up in like a Met Gala dressOr a straight jacket,You pick.
Who gave the bombs,Those party favors for regional stability,For a war we believe is not here?We would never be as barbaric as those others half a world away.Active shooter drills are a sign of a healthy society that values children,That values life,That wants every person, everywhere to be free.
The mirror shows us what we can’t bear to see so we break it.And tell them to make it again,And get it right for once, for Christ’s sake.

More from Maggie Devers ↓

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

No Apologies Michelle Vivier I refuse to apologize for all the ways I've sought out love and pleasure.
I am so much more than my body and those I once let use it without ever having earned it.
I refuse to allow my entire humanity to be reduced to who I've laid with, who I'd hoped might love me back, or how I learned to get my needs met when I was sad and lonely.
Reader - this was not how I found the love I searched so hard for, but it was my way to unintended endings, unexpected blessings, unfathomable lessons, magic I never knew I needed;
A daughter, so full of strength and beauty that she has inspired me to rediscover mine.
And she will never apologize for a single ounce of her pleasure.
And I will ensure that she will never need to search so hard for love.

More from Michelle Vivier ↓

• @michellespeakspoetry on Instagram

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

It’s Not Too Late Travis Hupp Looks like I'll have to do things differentlyNo more hitting and missing intermittentlyGotta buckle down and not knuckle underReclaim my mind and unearth wonderHowling dogs and circling batsNew dawn awaits and darkness won't lastYesterday droned on destituteMy meaning got lost andmy muse went mutebut there's a part of me that stillknows what to doPower through and write what's trueWhat's true is I've been stuck herecoming ungluedEyes shut tight conjuring up a better viewthan the sorry sight of theaimless life I've ledletting liars and defilers get in my headEnough of that and enough of losingEnough blood bled andenough ego bruisingI'll limp towards love til I'm fit to outrundemons and downfallswith shackles undoneI've got friends I know would hide mefrom the consequences I've been invitingbut I can face into the fireand find the poems burning down inspiresI always knew I wasn't born to wallowwithout evolving cocooned in squalorWithout challenging the trauma traderswho corrupt you, crush youand leave you crateredSo I say here and now I'm in this fightI'll stop living wrong andfumble towards rightI'll make my mother in Heaven feel proudI'll show up on time toshow what I'm aboutIt's something I learned butforgot to rememberwhen every turn I tookwas another dead enderWhen every trick I knew the devil knew tooWhen tawdry temptation wasa damn heady brewI can't unwaste a single daybut I can pray it's not too lateI can't shoulder sad sick shameso I'm setting out to redeem my nameI'm here and I'll recognize what's mineGrab what I'm given tightwhen stars alignI won't say fuck it I'll say fasterSpeed is my steed for skirting disaster

More from Travis Hupp ↓

• @poetryoftravishupp on Instagram
• His book American Entropy is out now through Atmosphere Press.

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

Full and Free Maggie Devers Spread a blanket on the grassUnder the eucalyptusLie down and feel the relief.
Sit in the swingLet your hair dance in windHear the swish of your fuchsia parachute pantsAs your legs pump up and downUp and down.
The squirrel tries to steal your snack,Moves the bag off the blanket And freezes mid action when she realizes she’s been caught,She flees,You throw her some bitesWe all deserve to feel full and free.

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:

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

Reckoning Anna Goodman Herrick You have to know you're enough. And you have to remember.Then,you have to forgetand tumble into the soft darkness and let it hold youSometimes, if you're luckyit will whisperto you secrets:like,this is happeningyou are alive(even if)(just barely)and when you are on the edge of mercy I doin that pillow embrace of that godthat you have called painyou have to let it toss youback into the earthen worldand lay you on its grounduntil you say I doI want to be hereand this timeI mean it.

More from Anna Goodman Herrick ↓

• @annagoodmanherrick on Instagram
• Her book A Speaker Is a Wilderness is out now.

You can listen to me read Anna Goodman Herrick’s poem, The Whole Story, over on Instagram @rembrandts.cure

Morning Song Of The Bees Louisa May Alcott (1832 – 1888) Awake! awake! for the earliest gleamOf golden sunlight shinesOn the rippling waves, that brightly flowBeneath the flowering vines.Awake! awake! for the low, sweet chantOf the wild-birds' morning hymnComes floating by on the fragrant air,Through the forest cool and dim;Then spread each wing,And work, and sing,Through the long, bright sunny hours;O'er the pleasant earthWe journey forth,For a day among the flowers.
"Awake! awake! for the summer windHath bidden the blossoms unclose,Hath opened the violet's soft blue eye,And wakened the sleeping rose.And lightly they wave on their slender stemsFragrant, and fresh, and fair,Waiting for us, as we singing comeTo gather our honey-dew there.Then spread each wing,And work, and sing,Through the long, bright sunny hours;O'er the pleasant earthWe journey forth,For a day among the flowers!

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

Jawbone, Ribcage Emily Holman I Split [The chord of my brain as it connects to] [] [my spine snaps; thoughts gone, gone] Myself Apart, [My spine snaps, a snare trap of my own] [] [melancholy design, hospitalized within] From Underneath [Profound enchantments, spellike words,] [] [if I even am who I say I am; beginnings] My Jaw, [Entrails, tingling numbness, bleeding] [] [hearts, beating to an eerie chanting] Tearing My [I shake a bony hand; where is your skin?] [] [disintegration, if I fall apart entirely] Tongue In [A heavenly blue pours out of me, exhaust] [] [by formalities, by ritualistic movements] Two, To [Autopsied, on a cold silver table, open] [] [and spoon-fed wild herbs and potions] Expose My [Breathe in; the cold air fills my lungs] [] [up to its ballooned capacity, now warm] Humanity, Revealing [Thrums and thralls of an otherworldly] [] [power, disembodied voices call to me] Worms And [Who puzzle-pieced me together before,] [] [assembling lamb for slaughter, for god?] Rot And [No longer made of metal, jellied eyes] [] [leap from my skull. I can grow again.] Blood.

More from Emily Holman ↓

• @maximumsparrow on Instagram
• Her chapbook Dreamscapes of the Metaphysical is published through 318 Journal.

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