One Poem Only

A Jelly-Fish Marianne Moore 1887 – 1972 Visible, invisible,A fluctuating charm,An amber-colored amethystInhabits it; your armApproaches, andIt opens andIt closes;You have meantTo catch it,And it shrivels;You abandonYour intent—It opens, and itCloses and youReach for it—The blueSurrounding itGrows cloudy, andIt floats awayFrom you.

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

Last Fog at Sunrise Travers Charron If life stretched on forever,would we still kneel in the wild mintjust to listen to the wind?
It’s the fire burning lowthat draws us near.The song, fadingthat makes us sing.The morning mist liftingthat reveals the deer in the clearing.
Grief is not just absence–it’s the overflowof all we didn’t say,the touch we postponed,a life paused too longon someday.
We are eacha breath on glass,a shadow just beginning to fall.One day,we’ll rise as the last fog at sunrise–already vanishing as the light arrives.
Sof if you love, say so.If something stirs you,listen.
The morning comes quickly.And the fognever stays.

More from Travers Charron ↓

• @the_inkwellian on Threads
• Scattering Poem Seeds on Substack
• His tanka and haiku collection, Glass Shadows, is available now.
• Currently he is preparing his first full-length poetry collection, Thunderclap Heart, for submission later this year.

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.

Jun 2 - cream soda by Stephanie Valente, Portals on Substack, @stephanie.maria.valente on Instagram; her book, Internet Girlfriend, is out now

Jun 3 - Lines Written At Thorp Green by Anne Bronte

Jun 4 - Honey by Debbie Radford, @debbiearadford on Instagram and TikTok; her book, The Enchanted Cottage, is out now

Jun 5 - Because that is all it is. by Maggie Devers

Jun 6 - I open a book by Joanne Witzkowski, @a.wannie on Threads & Instagram

Jun 7 - Goodnight, Yesterday by Nichole Johnson on Instagram, TikTok, Facebook, Threads; her two books: Love, Death, and Other Distractions, a Collection of Poetry & Circling The Downward Spiral

June 8 -

Spin the Weekend Maggie Devers The beasts are brunchingWith a Saturday fervor That excites me.
The valet nearly got hit by a car,Or I nearly ran into him,As he stepped boldly into traffic.
He knows his purpose is greater than mine,And I know it too,These four hours to let it all go.
I cannot quibble with the revelersWho watch in amazement As the plates keep spinning.

More from Maggie Devers ↓

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

Goodnight, YesterdayNichole JohnsonI thoughtMy heart might die loudly–Thunder cracking,LighteningGrinding stone to sand.But–It is quiet.It withersIn my ribcage,Like a heavy fog–The last breathOf midnightSoftly tiptoeingTowards dawn.

More from Nichole Johnson ↓

• @nichole_johnson_poetry on Instagram and Threads
• Her two books: Love, Death, and Other Distractions, a Collection of Poetry & Circling The Downward Spiral

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 open a book.One brittle flower falls,Shudders into dust.No flicker of flameCould be as beautifuland as burningand as briefAs the memoriesthat perfumed powderevokes.
- Joanne Witzkowski

More from Joanne Witzkowski ↓

• @a.wannie on Threads & 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

Because that is all it is. Maggie Devers I want to know your process So I can make it with youThe way you sketch until your nails are packed with graphite And your warm hands smell of wood shavings and masking tapeI could hold them to my nose and die happy
I want to know how you changeSo I can be there with you As you chop off your hairLet your eyebrows grow wilder and abandon heels for Birks. Even your feet are now free
Tell me what makes your heart growAnd mine will grow tooHow you smell the top of a baby’s head watching the sun dip over the ocean.There’s a margarita with salt in your handAnd the lime stings at your cuticle, but it’s a good hurt.
Show me the hidden parts of you So I can see all of you The way you shield yourself from criticism Even your own. How you fight for everyone But yourself. How you believe these parts are more hidden than they are.
Know I am here for the process.

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

Honey Debbie Radford Honey pools in the dip of my waist.It flows like warm sunlight down my thighs.Every curve a golden river, every step a supple pour.
Like a honeycomb, my body is textured and endless, mailable like bees wax, with threads of dripping sweetness curling around my hips.
My skin gleams like amber in the late afternoon- something one cannot help but savor.
I wear the curves of my body like sugar silk- soft, lustrous, and shimmering in a sunshine touch.
I am the sap of my creation, overflowing in luxury I melt into the depths of my form, as smooth as nectar's fall-slow and sure. Each layer of me ripened in richness, and oozing in flavor.

More from Debbie Radford ↓

• @debbiearadford on Instagram & TikTok
• Her book, The Enchanted Cottage, is out now.

You can listen to me read Candle of Hope by Debbie over on Instagram @rembrandts.cure

Lines Written At Thorp Green Anne Brontë 1820 – 1849 That summer sun, whose genial glow Now cheers my drooping spirit so Must cold and distant be, And only light our northern clime With feeble ray, before the time I long so much to see.
And this soft whispering breeze that now So gently cools my fevered brow, This too, alas, must turn To a wild blast whose icy dart Pierces and chills me to the heart, Before I cease to mourn.
And these bright flowers I love so well, Verbena, rose and sweet bluebell, Must droop and die away. Those thick green leaves with all their shade And rustling music, they must fade And every one decay.
But if the sunny summer time And woods and meadows in their prime Are sweet to them that roam Far sweeter is the winter bare With long dark nights and landscapes drear To them that are at Home!

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

cream soda Stephanie Valente Glamor is a spell. I want to feel glamorous.Imagine this: being born from Aphrodite’s oceanpearls. Foamy, iridescent, shimmery, and moodyall over. I bet it’s gorgeous. It's the kind of feeling when you take the first sip of creamsoda. That kind of confidence is the real beauty.Honey. I was hand carved by the gods. Youcan’t bring me down.

More from Stephanie Valente ↓

• Portals on Substack
• @stephanie.maria.valente on Instagram
• Her book, Internet Girlfriend, 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 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.

May 26 - St. Pancras Station, August 1915 by Vera Brittain

May 27 - The Coliseum by Edgar Allan Poe

May 28 - The garden path and all that jazz by Anisha SenGupta Yanger @anishasgy

May 29 - Did you know? by Maggie Devers

May 30 - Long, Too Long America by Walt Whitman

May 31 - The Wish, By a Young Lady by Laetitia Pilkington

Jun 1 -

Commence Maggie Devers It’s a magical place Where you can do anythingAnd leaving is never easy.
So go slowly now,The trees whisper through the windows.Gather those drawings etched with your name As I taught you so long agoTo offer—a remembering of all to come.
You know this is your path, Paved with the prints of othersIn chalk, paint, sand and sweatBut the quest is yours alone,And you will find your way.

More from Maggie Devers ↓

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