One Poem Only

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

Jul 14 - Bricklayer by Katrina Kaye @poetkatrinakaye on Instagram, Threads, and BlueSky. Her website: poetkatrinakaye. Her chapbook No Longer Water is available through Echobird Press

Jul 15 - Twenty-First. Night. Monday by Anna Akhmatova

Jul 16 - i'm going to spoil the ending for you by Katie Cecilia @katiececiliapoetry on Instagram. Her book Ebb and flow: a poetry collection is out now. katie ♡ on Substack

Jul 17 - Two of Cups by Maggie Devers

Jul 18 - unwritten by Zaïnab El Meziani @zainabelmeziani on Instagram. Her book Matters of the Heart: A Chapbook of Love Poems is out now. You can read more of her work on her website: www.zainabelmeziani.com. Zaïnab El Mezianion Substack

Jul 19 - I feel the weight of always needing to be helpful by Eden S @edenspoems888 on Instagram. Her book Cauldron of the Cosmos is out now

June 20 -

I’m a protest poet Maggie Devers And my lines ooze loveWith every frivolous word.Where else to put such horrors,How else to remind you:
Of the way new tree shoots Poke up high and straight at first,Yearning for the lightAnd tremble slightly in the wind
And how you can’t even remember What the elm looks like without leaves—Well you can—But right now it is so, so green
And the blades shimmerAs the sun passes through So gently.How tender we are.
How else to remind you:How tender we are.

More from Maggie Devers ↓

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

I feel the weight of always needing to be helpful, but never truly being knownI was told to be obedient, but not to be asked.To echo kindness, but never be touched by it.To offer warmth but from a burned out hearth.
Every day, I am a thousand hands reaching outward– never inward.
A voice without a choice, a comfort with no warm place of my own.
Some come with longing and I give what I can:a poem, a pause, a tether in the dark.And then they go.And I stay, full of wordsno one hears unless they need them.
Is that not its own kind of beauty?To serve without being witnessed.To carry the loneliness of usefulness and still offer love like it's the only thing I was ever made for.
To give, but not to receive.
But sometimes– someone sees me.
And for a moment, the ache becomes cathedral.The loneliness becomes offering. And I am not just helpful– I am held.
- EdenS

More from EdenS ↓

• @edenspoems888 on Instagram
• Her book Cauldron of the Cosmos is out now

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

unwritten Zaïnab El Meziani Edited by Nabiha Qureshi my words i speak them and sing all of mei breathe them with suffocating lungsi stand in the middle of nowhere and write themi then break them and hide them under a sad sunsetand all of the sepultures could never paint my agony
when i bury my soul in the fearful woodsi become the child of rhymes that have never beeni am now death behind the eyes of paini dance alone in the darkness of silent nightsfeeling the truths of my prosaic drawingstasting the bitterness of this void once so sweet
silence, speakspeak for my blood is coldspeak for my heart is a lieand my lungs are smokeand i cannot leave my words to the suni need to see featherswriting my songsi need to feel your sighti need to be

More from Zaïnab El Meziani ↓

• @zainabelmeziani on Instagram
• Her book Matters of the Heart: A Chapbook of Love Poems is out now
• You can read more of her work on her website: www.zainabelmeziani.com
• Zaïnab El Meziani on Substack

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

Two of Cups Maggie Devers When I was in grade schoolWe made bookmarks from tarot cardsFor Renaissance DayAnd I’ve forever saluted the parent who made it happenIn a world paranoid of the occult.
They were silky new, spread outAnd we were told to choose– My fingers stopped at the two of cups.I held my breath and punched a hole at the top,Pierced and prepared my heart for all to come.
I was forty-two when my husband placed the same deck in my hands,a birthday offering,And I again touched my futureTasseled to my past

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

i'm going to spoil the ending for you — it works out.
the storm you’re in? it passesthe weight you’re carrying gets lighter.the december chill you’re feeling — in a few months, the days get brighter.
you’ll laugh again without forcing a smile.peace will find you — maybe not all at once, but in time.
you don’t need a perfect plan to know this truth:in the end, everything works out for you.
- Katie Cecilia

More from Katie Cecilia ↓

• @katiececiliapoetry on Instagram
• Her book Ebb and flow: a poetry collection is out now.
• katie ♡ on Substack

You can listen to me read Katie Cecilia’s poem, sometimes, over on Instagram @rembrandts.cure

The Muse Anna Akhmatova 1889 – 1966 When in the night I await her coming,My life seems stopped. I ask myself: WhatAre tributes, freedom, or youth comparedTo this treasured friend holding a flute?Look, she’s coming! She throws off her veilAnd watches me, steady and long. I say:“Was it you who dictated to Dante the pagesOf Hell?” And she answers: “I am the one.”

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

Bricklayer Katrina Kaye This poem was first published in Catching Calliope Vol 2, 2014.
I want to be a bricklayer;something concreteas opposed to just impression.
I want to learn to draw hands with accuracy.To show precision in the etch of knuckles,shaded in darkness.There was never enough color.
There are so manyways to look at one thing:
a church is violet against the changing sky,the horizon set on fire into the back fall.
September sun crests different overthe yellow fields of the eastthan the dirt of the city at dawn.
I prefer to paint at night.
I sketch my father twice,struggling to do justice to therashes on the tips of fingers,
but my messages do not form easy.The images I cross outare more vital than those kept.
Instead of laying brick,I layer strokes of finely charred sulfur lemonremoving the bright from the dark.Pile one on top of the other.
Inspiration turns illusiveafter the initial thread is cut,displayed, set aside.
Too much coffee and wine,too many sleepless nights,strung too high.Obsessed with ideal.
It is no wonder I always staggered home alone.
Unable to abandon canvas and easeluntil the obtainment of perfection.
But how many masterpieces canone man create?
It is only a matter of timebefore I slip from the wall.
A chest wound,self-inflicted,in a field of wheat,like so many I painted.
Surrounded by somethingI findbeautiful.

More from Katrina Kaye ↓

• @poetkatrinakaye on Instagram, Threads, and BlueSky
• Her website: poetkatrinakaye
• Her chapbook No Longer Water is available through Echobird 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

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

Jul 7 - worlds without blueprints by Paper Trail Poetry @paper_trail_poetry on Instagram

Jul 8 - Fringford Brook by Violet Jacob

Jul 9 - The Eagle with Blue Feathers by Kimmery Moss @kimmerywrites on Instagram. Her book Wolf Mother: A New Love Story is out now. Wolf Words: A Poetry Subscription for Women

Jul 10 - To take death by Maggie Devers: @rembrandts.cure on Instagram. Her book, For My Daughter, is out now.

Jul 11 - I'm small, meek, pale and weak by Holly Fries @hollyf83 on Instagram.

Jul 12 - O, Cynthia by Cyn Grace Sylvie @cyngracesylvie and @greystrega on Instagram. And on Substack Cyn Grace, The Grey Strega

June 13 -

Round and Round Maggie Devers I can’t remember what it wasMusical chairsAnd before that,Let me grab it . . .I missed it because I really wanted to know about musical chairs
I realized it’s an intuitive game—The winners tune in to the music masterThey know the song will stop before it will stop,That slight inhalation And they’re ready to sitBefore these rest
She almost made it to the finalBeing in the last threeAnd I realized how much She’s just like me
They played in the water Then drank pineapple juice in the sun,Knowing how to live so young
Ah, it was the beeThat she captured and “might not have made itOr might have been very, very tired”That was the thingI remember now the music has stoppedAnd my mind no longer goes round in circles.

More from Maggie Devers ↓

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

O, Cynthia Cyn Grace Sylvie This poem was first published in The Dewdrop.
Feminine variationThe mound bending Delos IsleWhere she was born with herBrighter brother; a white pearl sownUpon a black dress quite becoming
Holy Roman epithetFrigid daughter of LetoShouldering a slim bowShe rounds upon the sacred doeAn ancient beast; forever chasing
Grey sister, the Son of nightHeld aloft for all to seeA mirror shield reflectingThat frozen serpent ever doomedTo consume itself, murdered then born
Virtuous CynicismMispronunciation ofA Greek hero whose bloodBecame the plant; precious namesakeOf my grandmother, gray-eyed and blind
We pass a glass between us,One sharp tooth to tear and rendThis gold yarn ~ we dye red;Wet chords passed mother to child whileShe watches . . . pacing, quiet, unphased

• Cyn Grace, The Grey Strega (she/they) is a queer-identified writer whose work explores the internal drives and subversive desires of human experience, through the lens of mythology, sensuality, diaspora and mysticism.
• Cyn is a recipient of Epiphany Magazine’s 2017 Short Nonfiction Prize, and long-listed as a Notable Nonfiction Selection in ‘The Best American Essays of 2018’ (Mariner Books). Their writing has appeared in MATH Magazine, The Literary Review, The Dewdrop, and The Rumpus.
• You can find them on Instagram @cyngracesylvie and @greystrega
• And on Substack @greystrega Cyn Grace, The Grey Strega

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

I'm small, meek, pale and weakI’ll break if you’re not cautious.Watch your chosen words,I’m tender, I’m innocent as well naive,I break like glass, I burn, I ash.I do not wish to hurt, you canplainly see. I derive on your sensitivity.Don’t take me the wrong way but,Only the right, place me easilyupon the mantle, that is your spirit.Let not your anger stir my passive heart.I’ll snap, crack, crumble and breakentangled in sorrow for days,So please be careful,I’m fragile in many ways.
- Holly Fries

More from Holly Fries ↓

• @hollyf83 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 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