One Poem Only

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

May 5 - How often we greet each other with worries by Maggie Devers

May 6 - Renewal of Strength by Frances Ellen Watkins Harper

May 7 - For My Daughter by Maggie Devers

May 8 - Held by Maggie Devers

May 9 - Circe by H.D.

May 10 - What the Thrush Said by John Keats

May 11 -

MotherMaggie DeversMother is a verb.She does, does, does.Even when she’s not moving, she holds,Holds babies, feelings, everything that will fit in her two arms.
She can carry the entire world if you ask her,Especially if you say pleaseShe can’t help herself,She is strength personified.

More from Maggie Devers ↓

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

What the Thrush Said John Keats 1795 –1821 O Thou whose face hath felt the Winter’s wind,Whose eye has seen the snow-clouds hung in mist,And the black elm tops ’mong the freezing stars,To thee the spring will be a harvest-time.O thou, whose only book has been the lightOf supreme darkness which thou feddest onNight after night when Phœbus was away,To thee the Spring shall be a triple morn.O fret not after knowledge—I have none,And yet my song comes native with the warmth.O fret not after knowledge—I have none,And yet the Evening listens. He who saddensAt thought of idleness cannot be idle,And he’s awake who thinks himself asleep.

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

Circe H.D. 1886 – 1961 It was easy enoughto bend them to my wish,it was easy enoughto alter them with a touch,but youadrift on the great sea,how shall I call you back?
Cedar and white ash,rock-cedar and sand plantsand tamariskred cedar and white cedarand black cedar from the inmost forest,fragrance upon fragranceand all of my sea-magic is for nought.
It was easy enough—a thought called themfrom the sharp edges of the earth;they prayed for a touch,they cried for the sight of my face,they entreated metill in pityI turned each to his own self.
Panther and panther,then a black leopardfollows close—black panther and redand a great hound,a god-like beast,cut the sand in a clear ringand shut me from the earth,and cover the sea-soundwith their throats,and the sea-roar with their own barksand bellowing and snarls,and the sea-starsand the swirl of the sand,and the rock-tamariskand the wind resonance—but not your voice.
It is easy enough to call menfrom the edges of the earth.It is easy enough to summon them to my feetwith a thought—it is beautiful to see the tall pantherand the sleek deer-houndscircle in the dark.
It is easy enoughto make cedar and white ash fumesinto palacesand to cover the sea-caveswith ivory and onyx.
But I would give uprock-fringes of coraland the inmost chamberof my island palaceand my own giftsand the whole regionof my power and magicfor your glance.

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

Held Maggie Devers The sweetest meat is closest to the boneThe most tender, the most trueThe tissue there is hardest to reach,To manipulate from the outside.
If you squeezed my armHow much bone would you feel?Would the flesh push backAnd guard my depths?
The fruit around the mango pit is sinewyUnless it’s overripe,Then it melts into your mouth.

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

For My Daughter by Maggie Devers Chop off my head and put it on your shield.I will protect you until the day I dieAnd all the days after that.You think I would let anything harm the perfection that sprang from my body?That force that is me and infinitely you at the same time?There is nothing in the world that could destroy us,Not when a mere glance can turn men to stone.

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

Renewal of Strength Frances Ellen Watkins Harper 1825 – 1911 The prison-house in which I liveIs falling to decay,But God renews my spirit’s strengthWithin these walls of clay.
For me a dimness slowly creepsAround earth’s fairest light,But heaven grows clearer to my view,And fairer to my sight.
It may be earth’s sweet harmoniesAre duller to my ear,But music from my Father’s houseBegins to float more near.
Then let the pillars of my homeCrumble and fall away;Lo, God’s dear love within my soulRenews it day by 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

How often we greet each other with worries by Maggie Devers I went to the wilderness to escapeAnd there are worries there too.Caterpillars falling from their treeBefore their chrysalis is complete
My weekend project was to save them,But not everybody makes it—There's a worry tied to us like an anchor,How quickly we would sink once we stropped struggling—
We lost one to the riverA few were squishedAnd one got too close to the coffee pot.That will stick with me
But I saw butterflies too,And in a few weeksWhen I'm not there to see it,There will be more.

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 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 Ladyby Amy Lowell 1874 – 1925You are beautiful and faded,Like an old opera tunePlayed upon a harpsichord;Or like the sun-flooded silksOf an eighteenth-century boudoir. In your eyesSmoulder the fallen roses of outlived minutes,And the perfume of your soulIs vague and suffusing,With the pungence of sealed spice-jars.Your half-tones delight me,And I grow mad with gazingAt your blent colors.My vigor is a new-minted penny,Which I cast at your feet.Gather it up from the dustThat its sparkle may amuse 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

Radical by Marianne Moore 1887 – 1972 Taperingto a point, conserving everything, this carrot is predestined to be thick. The world is but a circumstance, a mis- erable corn-patch for its feet. With ambition, imagination, outgrowth,
nutriment,with everything crammed belligerent- ly inside itself, its fibres breed mon- opoly — a tail-like, wedge-shaped engine with the secret of expansion, fused with intensive heat to the color of the set-
ting sun andstiff. For the man in the straw hat, stand- ing still and turning to look back at it — as much as to say my happiest moment has been funereal in comparison with this, the con- ditions of life pre-
determinedslavery to be easy and freedom hard. For it? Dismiss agrarian lore; it tells him this: that which it is impossible to force, it is impossible to hinder.

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

Who Has Seen the Wind Christina Rossetti 1830 – 1894 Who has seen the wind?Neither I nor you.But when the leaves hang trembling,The wind is passing through.Who has seen the wind?Neither you nor I.But when the trees bow down their heads,The wind is passing by.

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