One Poem Only

One Poem Only is a daily ritual: one poem, center stage, just for now. Butterflied, oh Yonsiri Rojas I fish-eyed, butterflied collection of furrowed bones composed of dust and glitter scattered throughout the meadow the gray-hued calcium boughs quiver at the poisonous, foetid breath of their beast… a skin sack stuffed with long rancid meat; sheathed in tettered flesh, a machete II a blood-colored...

One Poem Only is a daily poetry podcast offering a quiet moment with a single poem—read aloud, without analysis or noise. Every Cell Misses You Dolon Pramanik Every single cell in my body calls your name. It’s like they all know who they belong to. When you’re near, they hum quietly, like a song only I can feel. When you’re far, they scream — they ache. My heart tries to stay strong, but it beats...

Here’s your recap of this week’s poems plus one new poem to carry us into the week ahead. Feb 2 Light by Shannon West @shannonswriting on Instagram. Feb 3 The Cloak of Quiet Light by Dorothy Howls @thehumanspell on Instagram. Feb 4 Dreams by Cecilia Knight @ceciliaknightpoems on Instagram. Her book, The Burning Pages , is available now. Listen to me read Treasures by Cecilia on Instagram @rembrand...

Magnetism Emma Lazarus By the impulse of my will, By the red flame in my blood, By me nerves' electric thrill, By the passion of my mood, My concentrated desire, My undying, desperate love, I ignore Fate, I defy her, Iron-hearted Death I move. When the town lies numb with sleep, Here, round-eyed I sit; my breath Quickly stirred, my flesh a-creep, And I force the gates of death. I nor move nor spea...

glass half Michaela Godding I’m sorry for this mess all over the all over the carpet dragging at my heels like a half dead dog look at me my empty is so big my stomach full of stars unapologizing on the way down at least I can say I bellied the sky. More from Michaela Godding ↓ @michaelagodding on Instagram Her book, The Year Our Grandmothers Died , is available now.

On My Own Srishti Jain In the air of the city, I feel like a hermit sauntering across landscape with lavenders and a breeze that welcomes me where I always belonged. It is serene waters that touch my storm wishing me luck to never settle but embrace warm cuddles that I chase within. I see the sky turning pink, blue, & purple, all the hues that prosper my energy to bear the brunt of times alone...

Dreams Cecilia Knight i’m three months postpartum and i’m dreaming again not the kind you get when you’re asleep what is sleep anyway? the kind you get when you’re awake when your eyes are open and you feel alive the kind of dreams that remind you of your fire i say hello to them and they feel like a long lost friend that you meet up with in an empty parking lot at 5am to watch the sunrise and tal...

The Cloak of Quiet Light Dorothy Howls I weave a thread of silver-white, around my chest, soft-shielded tight. A shimmer-glow no eye can see, but here it stands, protecting me. No harsh word sticks, no shadow stays, I’m held in warmth through stormy days. More from Dorothy Howls ↓ @thehumanspell on Instagram Mentioned in this episode: One Poem Only submissions are open. I’m filling the next chapte...

Light Shannon West I’m afraid of the dark and so is he We hold each other close and drift off into dreams The closet light is on - just how we like it Light spills from beneath the door bathing the room in its warmth The basement, being alone, silence, death - belong to the dark The kitchen table, love, togetherness, life - belong to the light Kindred spirits safe in our nest We don’t need to fear...

Here’s your recap of this week’s poems plus one new poem to carry us into the week ahead. Jan 26 - Born of Ashes by Goldilocks @goldenprisonpoetry on Instagram. Jan 27 - The Mythical Hero of Legend has Clinical Depression by Oscar W Isaacs @oscarwritesaacs on Instagram. Jan 28 - Cheap Therapy Cheat Sheet by Tanja Lau @tanias.butterflies on Instagram. Tania's Butterflies on Substack. Listen to me r...

Without The Noise Dipanwita Dey Who am I when the notifications stop buzzing, when applause fades, when the lights dim and disappear, when no eyes are left to watch? Who am I when the corner of the bedside empties quietly, the pillow no longer wet with secrets, the chaos no longer hums merrily, and my father’s strength vanishes— softly into thin air? Am I still kind if no one claps for my empathy?...

Chai and Chrysanthemum Mahnoor Rehan My heart leans Towards abomination You— Earliest ray of sunshine Walking sack of calculated calories Abyss, philanthropy I follow the squirrels as they hop from one willow to another When I leave my world behind just to play a minuscule part in yours White Chrysanthemum disguised As a human Bang bang Swish swish They rip my petals off in bits Even god loves you...

The Grief that Grips Our World Raquel Dionísio Abrantes Silver waters whisper amidst slender branches where sisters bathe. My twin of bone and moss whose woe I fold like my grandmother folded her husband’s pants — carefully, and in silence. Come, feral storm. Let us be washed from the grief that grips our world tonight. More from Raquel Dionísio Abrantes ↓ @poets_desk on Instagram

Cheap Therapy Cheat Sheet Tanja Lau This poem was originally published by Part-Time Poets . Issue 29. No excuses. Pick your next move: Some people scream into pillows, others name their grief Steve and set a place for him at dinner. Mine is called Ernesto, he’s Swedish and he’s a stranger to daylight, so I forgive him. Naturally, he likes to quote Kierkegaard. That guy knew a thing or two about co...

The Mythical Hero of Legend has Clinical Depression Oscar W Isaacs The prophecy breathed of him cleaving through demons. Reaping through legions of unspeakable evil. Reaming to pieces their grievous leaders. Then of the deceased, he’d retrieve them from Elysium by redeeming their lethal lesions. A kill he’s healed… But in reality, the Hero just sleeps in. His steed, he forgot to feed it. Lives off...

Born of Ashes Goldilocks We were born of ashes and blood, In a shattered past stained with death. Each word hurt like a knife stabbing, Each day felt closer to the end. The pain did not stop for a second, It grew bigger with rage. Despite it all, survival was my saviour. Living got me into the arms of a soul like mine. A soul that needed mine, a soul that found me too. A soul that needed saving an...

Here’s your recap of this week’s poems plus one new poem to carry us into the week ahead. Jan 19 - Chasing the Light by Old Fart with a Guitar @old_fart_with_a_guitar on Instagram. Stream his music: OFWAG LinkTree . Jan 20 - A Merciless Winter by Farida Shamim Jan 21 - Don't call it hope or you'll scare it away by Candace Kronen rom Candace Kronen @candacekronenpoetry on Instagram. Her Substack: S...

Same Old Story Amelia Cabantog Everyday the news replays the same old stories. So, and so, died So, and, so was deported So, and, so's rights are being taken away. Meanwhile a mother is crying because her baby is slowly dying And a brother is screaming because he doesn't know how to cope with all of his feelings And a girl is lying broken, in a bed she did not make. The people outside are screamin...

“Hope isn't a shy thing” Eileen Strawberry Hope isn't a shy thing She has white knuckles and spits grit When oppressors beat down on her shoulders She draws her sword swiftly No hesitation No deliberation She will slay dragons for her kin Hope isn't a pretty thing Scars mar her complexion She's missing some teeth Dirt crusts under her nails Calluses roughen her feet Yet her vision is clear Her hea...

Shimmer Jessie Marie my shimmering heart draped in tears drums a song behind a thorny cage ghosts dressed in moonlight wail against the inky black of night sorrow is stitched into their eyes an echo of dreams heard on the wind I restore myself in the light of the stars a spotlight of hope drinks me up such a dream of being whole again More from Jessie Marie ↓ @Jessie. Kaiser on Instagram and Threa...

Don't call it hope or you'll scare it away Candace Kronen Call it window or thread or undone button, call it plump lips and the slip of a sound, open palm with a single split seed whispers of paw prints in a blanket of snow, baby hairs and broccoli sprouts, call it half hug of a parenthesis, handprint in the cave, defiant little fiddlehead pushing through the dirt, call it a clearing of the throat...

A Merciless Winter Farida Shamim How cruel you are, Winter — couldn’t you wait a little longer? Why didn’t you wait until the children fell asleep, their dreams unbroken, their bellies not empty? My little ones lie down hungry, and now — how could I cover them, how could I protect them from your harsh, merciless air? Can’t you see — we can no longer see tomorrow we can’t even weep. Our tears have...

Chasing the Light Old Fart with a Guitar With all the bad news and all the bad vibes And the battle lines drawn between the tribes, I was lathered up, hosed down, spun around and hung out to dry. Still, life goes on at 60 years an hour And I wondered if I’d wasted my time, Cause there was so much sorrow I was running out of tears to cry… Til one day a small stone thrown by a small fry Up n hit a g...

Here’s your recap of this week’s poems plus one new poem to carry us into the week ahead. Jan 12 - Happiness by Navya Chaudhary @chaoticconfessor on Instagram. Her book, Unfinished Letters , is out now. Jan 13 - I Promise by Riley Hope McPheters @rileyhmcpheters on Instagram. She is a member of @PoetzPortalFW , that exists to awaken consciousness and cultivate liberated creative practice through t...

The Anatomy of Dawn Saleha Najeeb Do not mistake the smile for light. It is merely how we hide the mourning of what never had a funeral. Grief, it does not arrive or leave, it resides, like a second pulse beneath the one we claim to feel. I have carried it, you know the quiet dissonance of appearing alive while the soul rehearses its own absence. There are days I speak, but every word drips throug...