One Poem Only

Signs Defne Kartal I don’t believe in signs but I do I beg for them daily, and when they arrive - A postcard, a dog, a friend, a group of musicians, a Canadian - i don’t do what I think they’re telling me to what are signs for? I don’t believe and I don’t know, I don’t know, so I don’t believe Instead, I conjure up an image of you Walking away through the crowd, I follow you Eyes closed in my bed...

Here’s your recap of this week’s poems plus one new poem to carry us into the week ahead. Nov 3 -   Naked by Danielle Martin @cosquelle.mind on Instagram. DanielleM on Facebook. Her book, Kissing Shadows: Caribbean Love Poems , is out now. Nov 4 - Poetry Reading by Maggie Devers Nov 5 - Her Absence by Katrina Kaye @poetkatrinakaye on Instagram. You can read more of her poetry on her website p...

A poem inspired by Emily Dickinson Dear death How can I stay when you, more than life, make me feel seen? They call you cruel, but I have seen the gentleness in your cruelty— the mercy in your ending, the way you unburden bones and hush the screaming thoughts no one else could hear. What if the ones who scream are not cruel, but trying to anchor me to a world they still believe can bloom? And I— h...

Nightmares are dreams too Dimple Dinesh Lokhande In the midnight sky, as breeze passes by, In our sleep, we tend to fly, To a place where dreams seem to lie. Dreams whisper on clouds in silver light, We see in shining armor a knight, Who wields his sword and provides justice to what's right. Dreams are a picture of the future, some blurred, some clear, Where hearts feel safe and fears disappear. B...

you wrote anyway Abhilasha Ghosh july 25th, 2025 you were told writing was a man’s terrain— ink too heavy, thought too sharp for your soft hands. so you wrote anyway. you became george eliot when mary ann wouldn’t be taken seriously. they admired your mind but never called it yours. you were the brontë sisters, signing as currer, ellis, and acton bell— three pens dipped in restraint, writing women...

Her Absence Katrina Kaye I do not regret the days I spent loving you in her absence. I do not regret your tempered touches as you searched for her skin under my scales or the way your eyes reflected her sharp chin and freckled chest when they fell on my frame. I do not regret the fleeting space we created, morning gestures in the folds of sheet and flesh. Tending your wounds with tongue and time....

Poetry Reading Maggie Devers After Chelsie Diane This is a remembering When we come together And read our truth. We have been doing this forever. They have tried to stop us— Burnt us alive, tied rocks to our ankles and threw us in the river, locked us in cages. So many cages. But we didn't stop. We can never stop, We are right where we are. The audiobook of my debut poetry book, For My Daughter ,...

Naked Danielle Martin Naked in the truth that she is alone she hugs herself tightly and succeeds in creating the illusion of wellness. Damp eyes close as jaded lips conjure up wide smiles. Damn! Her mind begins to do its own thing again. Briefly, she forgets, as she floats on a magic carpet of memories, smiling, as death did not steal everything after all. Basking in apparent nothingness, she wait...

Here’s your recap of this week’s poems plus one new poem to carry us into the week ahead. Oct 27 -   i don't remember being small by Momena Khan @still.in.my.d4afts_ on Instagram. Oct 28 - What Are We by Laker Patience @laker.p_poet on Instagram. Her poetry anthology, Echoes of Colour , will be out soon. Oct 29 - Green Soup by Tabitha Dial @TabithaDial on Instagram. Her book, Cheese Astrology...

I would peel pomegranates for you— Not just slice them open, but gently with my fingers stained red— I would learn its anatomy, the way they bruise and break if held too harshly, the way they hold memories in every seed. I would sit at the table, a bowl between us as I unraveled the fruit slowly— almost reverently. I’d gather the delicate pieces and offer them to you like little treasures, letting...

Coffin monologue: The non-rhyming rant poem Manasvita Sukthankar I love myself, but which one? Can I love the person that most hate? Does she deserve the ache in her chest? It feels like being trapped in a coffin alive, like death is leaning by the doorframe. If so, I'd like it to carry me home, and leave me on my bedroom floor to stay. Maybe I feel safer in this coffin, No one can get to me. Mayb...

The Spider Philippe Blenkiron "Is God a Spider?" I asked, "constantly weaving electron threads into spiraling elemental webs? His iron will, spun with a silk of liquid steel, torn by the slightest of whims? His tenacious tapestry resewn, a glistening embroidery of frosted jewelled fibrils?" "God scares me," you said, "In the corner of the room, observant, unmoving, a silent host of eyes. His uncan...

Green Soup Tabitha Dial (Halloween Night 2020) From a quiet keeping-space, I promise my motherghost to create meals and music. Even if from dry bones and tangled memories, my vow as I unstem kale and spinach, add it to the copperlined pot with green onion, cilantro, yukon golds and snap peas. Remember when I made your favorite soup last year? I caramelize the onions and recall that patient pot. I'...

What Are We Laker Patience What are we? is there even a we, or is it possibly just a you and a me, a concoction of delusion, desire, mismatched expectations with no actual communication. What are we? what is this? Because my soul can't keep skinny dipping in the misread signals of others, it can't! My heart can't keep bungee jumping off of platforms made from shaky commitment, committing to shaky...

i don't remember being small Momena Khan i was sitting beside her, my not-sister. we were eating oranges and she was laughing with her whole mouth open like joy had never betrayed her. i held my fruit too carefully, too clean, trying not to let the juice run down my wrists. she said, you never eat like you're hungry. i said, i don’t think i am. i don’t remember being small. there are photos of me,...

Here’s your recap of this week’s poems plus one new poem to carry us into the week ahead. Oct 20 - Places Passing By by Paige Keller @pk_fictions on Instagram. Her book, Now Everything Changes , is available now from her website: pkfictions.com . Oct 21 - Keeping It This Way by Swan Melloh @three.letters.poetry on Instagram. Her poem, This is my insides , is published in the Spring/Summer 2025 iss...

Garden of Eden Yonsiri Rojas lulling sunbeam through the boughs soothing ballad of a plum-haired doll hazy notes of pure joy her naked feet wet in fresh spring icy water against bare sweet skin a dim lonely shadow dancing to the sun gauzy white dress softer than dandelions blown to an open sky otherworldly feeling of redemption a honeyed fragrant apricot in milky palms; juicy flesh that gently sta...

Bills for Bills of Bills for Bills Charlotte Stuart They hand me bills for bills of bills for bills, Stacked like bricks in window sills.                                                                    Pay what you owe, then pa...

Seventh Wonder Joba the Poète Seven wonders of the world yet I trip like the leaning tower of Pisa when you sing out my name with a nine minus two, or rather still, six plus one, the seventh scale of the seventh chord you love the most. What a time to feel this way, even such is time— and perchance God did not rest on the seventh day, perhaps He spent seven more hours perfecting your seventieth cu...

If love were a predator, I’d let it hunt me down. While it prowled, I’d shuffle the leaves just enough to be heard. I’d welcome the weight of its body against mine. And when it struck, I’d go down smiling— Let it take me. Let it tear me open. Let me blissfully bleed my life away as its mouth claimed the tender flesh of my thigh a mark not of death, but devotion. Because life without love is just s...

Keeping It This Way Swan Melloh I am not your property I rather tell myself than you who wears oblivion for shoes, walks without a knowing heart. I suppose it´s easier to leave you there without a clue, words unspoken in their truth, better gone, and far apart. Don´t you ever stop to wonder who´s the mistress of this distance? Call me goddess of this state, yet, would you ever know? We should be t...

Places Passing By Paige Keller Sitting on a patio sipping tea under the sun, writing notes into my phone through the breeze. Imagining different days and new ways to live - a place where I am me, whomever she is. Some place where you walk by and we are reintroduced for the very first time. Your eyes and mine. Our minds far away and familiar - different now but two souls the same. A breath of nosta...

Here’s your recap of this week’s poems plus one new poem to carry us into the week ahead. Oct 13 - House of Childhood by Nataša Benedičič @natasek_poetry_corner on Instagram. Childhood Reveries is her Substack. Her book, Whispers of the Inner Child , is out now. Oct 14 - "Where will we get" by Sophia Nerenberg @sophia_the_writer10 on Instagram Oct 15 - "I want to escape this world." by Lipy Goyal...

I dream of a happy ending. Perfect and unyielding. A quiet love, so loud, its deafening. Where I would not ever have to question their affection. I'd be so sure of this love, anxiety would dissipate. One filled with faultless words of promise, burning with hope. A brilliant, irreplaceable light, matching mine. An almost planned, adventurous future, that I could see in their eyes. Eventually, this...

Tell Me Evita Arakelian Tell me of a flavour I have forgotten, of a song I may have heard a stranger hum to her child in some store, some day. Tell me a story I know but end it differently or stop right in the middle and say: ‘more for later.’ Tell me about the bakery that will open near our home, on the eighth street. Remind me of what it was you said when I left my seat to have a cry in the thea...