One Poem Only

Sundays on One Poem Only are reserved for the weekly recap, but since we were writing a poem a day with Write After in April, we haven’t had a break for a recap in a month. So today I’m reading a poem that perfectly encapsulates Write After. It is a cento and contains one line from each of the 30 poems shared on One Poem Only during April.April: A PoemElla B. WintersShe never whispers in my ear, unfurlingto swallow my words, abandon mewhen I most need her,while the past rides shotgunsilent.My mind is a black sand beach. My fingersstop tracing spines. I've stopped turningthe light on. I have climbed to the topof the very last tree, gawkingat the sky turning into a riot of gold.Sadness presses its thumbinto my chest - a cascadeof the most unruly waves,they sparkle in the morning sun.Delayed and denied a day's breath,drums prelude river current tears, drawtogether the wet ravines of skin like a zip.Observing life like Dali from below the waters,cracked asphalt flowers, reachingfor a Mediterranean sun, stand underthe downpour. If I couldunzip my heart from skin, unleashingperfection to fully know me, I'd chooseto embrace the perfect contradiction.My world would be trickling waterin this moss forest, while stars are singingto us from the cosmos - the masterpieceI've waited my life to see. How delicatelythe water ripples;I forgive the fluidity.Let my body be a vessel! I've got enoughwords to feed the both of us.This silence sets me free.Contains one line from each of the 30 poems shared on the One Poem Only podcast during the April 2026 'Write After' challenge.More from Ella B. Winters ↓@ella.b.winters on Instagram@ellabwinters on SubstackSupport + Stay Connected to OPOIf you’d like to support the show, Substack and Patreon members receive a copy of my book, For My Daughter, along with episodes from the audiobook.Poetry sustains. Thank you for supporting the podcast.Mentioned in this episode:Write After with One Poem OnlyWrite After is a way to encourage poets to listen and write, and use National Poetry Month to highlight how listening to poetry makes us better poets. I know I write the best when I’m surrounded by beautiful poetry–it’s part of the reason I created this podcast, and I want to encourage others to share this practice. If you want to join: Listen to a poem from the month of April on One Poem Only, then write your own in response. I will pick one for each day to read in June for a special series: One Poem After 🍎🍏 Submissions close May 15.Write After Submissions Form

One Poem Only is a daily poetry podcast offering a quiet moment with a single poem—read aloud, without analysis or noise.Everlong/EvergreenDan WebberAfter an endless winterthe spring has finally come,a reminder,that all things will passeventually.In defiance, nature remainsguarded by tall treeand howling wind.The beauty of the forestis untarnished.Frostbitten or sun kissedupon doorstep, or far, far awaytravellers and explorersold and neware welcomed inin equal measure.These whispers from the woods call:Come.Sit a spell.Breathe in the good air.Calm mind and soothe body.It’s peaceful here,but never lonely,still but ever-changing,eternal yet new-born,respectful, if respected.It’s time to reconnect.Mother Earthhas waited long enough.She wonders when we will realisethat every day is differentwhen you stop and look up.So, look up.More from Dan Webber ↓@imgenrefluid on InstagramHis book, Whispers from the Woods, is available nowSupport + Stay Connected to OPOIf you’d like to support the show, Substack and Patreon members receive a copy of my book, For My Daughter, along with episodes from the audiobook.Poetry sustains. Thank you for supporting the podcast.Mentioned in this episode:Write After with One Poem OnlyWrite After is a way to encourage poets to listen and write, and use National Poetry Month to highlight how listening to poetry makes us better poets. I know I write the best when I’m surrounded by beautiful poetry–it’s part of the reason I created this podcast, and I want to encourage others to share this practice. If you want to join: Listen to a poem from the month of April on One Poem Only, then write your own in response. I will pick one for each day to read in June for a special series: One Poem After 🍎🍏 Submissions close May 15.Write After Submissions Form

One Poem Only is a daily poetry podcast offering a quiet moment with a single poem—read aloud, without analysis or noise.AbstractWC QuinnMy pieces appear askew, but I am no Picassojust a Girl Before a Mirror trying to love myselfdespite the flaws in my reflectionI keep counting my brush strokesgrooming tangles in penance.My tongue’s burden is languageThe She Wolf bellow calls to me; I don’t replymy words, sticky sweet honey,smacking heavy in the roof of my mouthsplatters canvas akin to Pollock.My nightmares covet realityso call me a dream walker; lucid surrealistobserving life like Dali from below the watersbearing witness to The Metamorphosis of Narcissusunsure if I am art or artist.My heart stenciled with purposein the face of perpetual loss; A Girl with Balloonblack and white statements strickenwith red accentsRecognizable / Unknown.More from WC Quinn ↓@astoldby.wcquinn on Instagram@wcquinn on SubstackSupport + Stay Connected to OPOIf you’d like to support the show, Substack and Patreon members receive a copy of my book, For My Daughter, along with episodes from the audiobook.Poetry sustains. Thank you for supporting the podcast.Mentioned in this episode:Write After with One Poem OnlyWrite After is a way to encourage poets to listen and write, and use National Poetry Month to highlight how listening to poetry makes us better poets. I know I write the best when I’m surrounded by beautiful poetry–it’s part of the reason I created this podcast, and I want to encourage others to share this practice. If you want to join: Listen to a poem from the month of April on One Poem Only, then write your own in response. I will pick one for each day to read in June for a special series: One Poem After 🍎🍏 Submissions close May 15.Write After Submissions Form

One Poem Only is a daily poetry podcast offering a quiet moment with a single poem—read aloud, without analysis or noise. You Are PoetryEmma-Jane BarlowI hope you know that you are poetry.Everything you do is artand you don't even know it.The way your eyes glistenand your whole face beamswith light when you're happy.The way you sink into the sofaand hum a little to yourself atthe end of a hard day.The way you hold the dooropen for a stranger and smile,or the way you speak to animalswhen you seem them pass by.The way you see gift givingas the most precious wayto know someone andthe time and care you put into it.The way you stand underthe downpour of waterat the end of your shower,to feel a rush of gratitudefor simply being alive.The way you watch the steamrise when you make a cup of teaand wonder where it disappears to.The way you love others witha fierce yet gentle loyalty,you always see the best in people,even when they don't deserve it.The way you push out yourtongue when you concentrateand how your fingers dance whenyou're nervous or excited.Even when the poems don't flow,I want you to know,that you are poetry.Never forgetthat everything you doand all that you areis pure magic.More from Emma-Jane Barlow ↓@emmajanepoetry on Instagram@emmajanebarlow on SubstackHer books, Darkness & Light & Sins & Sunflowers: Second Edition, are out nowSupport + Stay Connected to OPOIf you’d like to support the show, Substack and Patreon members receive a copy of my book, For My Daughter, along with episodes from the audiobook.Poetry slows us down. Thank you for listening.Mentioned in this episode:Write After with One Poem OnlyWrite After is a way to encourage poets to listen and write, and use National Poetry Month to highlight how listening to poetry makes us better poets. I know I write the best when I’m surrounded by beautiful poetry–it’s part of the reason I created this podcast, and I want to encourage others to share this practice. If you want to join: Listen to a poem from the month of April on One Poem Only, then write your own in response. I will pick one for each day to read in June for a special series: One Poem After 🍎🍏 Submissions close May 15.Write After Submissions Form

One Poem Only is a daily ritual: one poem, center stage, just for now.10 Things to Say When Meeting a MiracleDana Kinsey~for Miraku Uwadiae1. I never knew a woman who skyscrapers a cornfield like you.2. Life plucks Hope’s feathers, but you sew them back. Never pierce my skin.3. Your “amen” translates into 500 languages, a Kapok tree teeming with animalsighs, a storm of Nigerian tears, a dog-earred book of psalms.4. I love how you allow dreams to rouse you from bed mornings when each bonewants to sink into sheets.5. You chase laughter down long dark hallways, even days with no pay and rent duesoon.6. A GED agreed that your mind opens wide for knowledge, even dead Americanpresidents who never spoke your name.7. The 3-year-old boy clinging to you hears Love whisper in his ear, tell him he’ssmart and strong, bold and funny, kind and gentle, even when he’s tangled innoise.8. Isn’t it wild how you traveled 5,499 miles to a new continent to teach meChristmas lights aren’t strung on fir trees?9. Your smile in scrubs on CNA pinning day was 8th Wonder-worthy, themasterpiece I’ve waited my life to see.10. You are my country; I pledge allegiance to you.More from Dana Kinsey ↓@dana.kinsey on InstagramDana is the founder and director of a project called The Lancaster Living Poetry Museum; 20 performers embody diverse poets throughout our city this May. It's an interactive community initiative. As Lancaster City Poet Laureate, she created the project as a way to edu-tain our city.Support + Stay Connected to OPOIf you’d like to support the show, Substack and Patreon members receive a copy of my book, For My Daughter, along with episodes from the audiobook.Poetry shows us what we need. Thank you for being part of the experience.Mentioned in this episode:Write After with One Poem OnlyWrite After is a way to encourage poets to listen and write, and use National Poetry Month to highlight how listening to poetry makes us better poets. I know I write the best when I’m surrounded by beautiful poetry–it’s part of the reason I created this podcast, and I want to encourage others to share this practice. If you want to join: Listen to a poem from the month of April on One Poem Only, then write your own in response. I will pick one for each day to read in June for a special series: One Poem After 🍎🍏 Submissions close May 15.Write After Submissions Form

A daily reading from One Poem Only—a quiet space for a single poem, read aloud.Then maybe it would mean somethingE E NisbetThen maybe it would mean something:If your sorry could un-scream,vacuum spit-sprayed particles,suck up fucks, threats and bullshit,Un-drink, choke it back into the glass,take back your money,If your sorry could drag updregs of saline from blotted paper,Sculpt it back into a tear or twoand roll them backwards up my face,If your sorry could un-scar my skin,build the sharpener back together,Draw together the wet ravines of skin like a zip,un-lift the flap of scab, un-openthe sealed-shut mouth of a silvering scar,un-lick the wounds,If my okay could un-crash those cars,fuse together splintered glass, pull spinesBack into alignment, un-slip discs,stitch back skin spread thin across tarmac,unblock the roads,More from E E Nisbet ↓@_.eva_.n on InstagramShe offers writing on commission. DM her for more info.Support + Stay Connected to OPOIf you’d like to support the show, Substack and Patreon members receive a copy of my book, For My Daughter, along with episodes from the audiobook.Poetry reminds us what matters. Thank you for listening.Mentioned in this episode:Write After with One Poem OnlyWrite After is a way to encourage poets to listen and write, and use National Poetry Month to highlight how listening to poetry makes us better poets. I know I write the best when I’m surrounded by beautiful poetry–it’s part of the reason I created this podcast, and I want to encourage others to share this practice. If you want to join: Listen to a poem from the month of April on One Poem Only, then write your own in response. I will pick one for each day to read in June for a special series: One Poem After 🍎🍏 Submissions close May 15.Write After Submissions Form

One Poem Only is a daily ritual: one poem, center stage, just for now.UntamedToni YoungMy hair is a cascadeof the most unruly waves.I’ve flattened her with a straightener,but she identifies as unbridled.I’ve loaded her with productsto keep her calm,but she prefers to burst througheverything that weighs her down.I’ve since resigned myselfto her defiance.When my friend saidI reminded her of a lionbecause of my wild hair,I laughed.And then I roared.More from Toni Young ↓@toniyoungpoems on Instagram@toniyoungpoems on SubstackSupport + Stay Connected to OPOIf you’d like to support the show, Substack and Patreon members receive a copy of my book, For My Daughter, along with episodes from the audiobook.Feed yourself poetry every day.Mentioned in this episode:Write After with One Poem OnlyWrite After is a way to encourage poets to listen and write, and use National Poetry Month to highlight how listening to poetry makes us better poets. I know I write the best when I’m surrounded by beautiful poetry–it’s part of the reason I created this podcast, and I want to encourage others to share this practice. If you want to join: Listen to a poem from the month of April on One Poem Only, then write your own in response. I will pick one for each day to read in June for a special series: One Poem After 🍎🍏 Submissions close May 15.Write After Submissions Form

One Poem Only is a daily ritual: one poem, center stage, just for now.AmalgamationSophia JamesI walk to the top of the hill,The Sheffield hillThat made my accent broadMy legs - wide and sturdy,And my body - strong.The same bodyThat my Mother’s Mother’sMother had.The body that belongs to me,And in it, I belong.I stand at the top of the hill,Held up by my legs.I stick my belly out,My top rides up, and I feel a breeze.I feel the wind tickle my fingers,I clutch the air and squeeze.I clench the fingersI see my Grandma in.The fingers, my GrandmaSees her Daughter inThe fingersThat let us share ringsAnd hold onto thingsAnd peopleThat we love.The fingersThat my baby sister gripped,When she learned to stomp her legsUp the hill.That I now look over.Suddenly the noiseFizzles out.And this silence,Sets me free.My body is an amalgamationOf the womenBeforeAnd after me.More from Sophia James ↓@m0nkia on Instagram@sophialilyj19 on SubstackSupport + Stay Connected to OPOIf you’d like to support the show, Substack and Patreon members receive a copy of my book, For My Daughter, along with episodes from the audiobook.Feed yourself poetry every day.Mentioned in this episode:Write After with One Poem OnlyWrite After is a way to encourage poets to listen and write, and use National Poetry Month to highlight how listening to poetry makes us better poets. I know I write the best when I’m surrounded by beautiful poetry–it’s part of the reason I created this podcast, and I want to encourage others to share this practice. If you want to join: Listen to a poem from the month of April on One Poem Only, then write your own in response. I will pick one for each day to read in June for a special series: One Poem After 🍎🍏 Submissions close May 15.Write After Submissions Form

One Poem Only is a daily poetry podcast offering a quiet moment with a single poem—read aloud, without analysis or noise.Dystopian Dirges (United Healthcare)Amelia WickerRubbish or treasureWho is to measureThe value of a life cast aside?Nickeled and dimedWithout reason or rhymeDelayed and denied a day’s breathWho lives and who dies?Who’s the lord of the flies?This dystopian surmise too grim to speakFalse gods of profit and powerClaiming souls by the hourGrowing strong from the plight of the weakNo penance for crimes68,000 timesNew dirges ring with each blink of an eyeMercenary marionettes lieDeaf to the bereft criesAscension ripe for the fall after prideWhen a carpenter by tradeFierce and tender will say“I was thirsty, you gave me no drink”“But sir, we never met”How conveniently they forgetThey met Jesus in the least of all theseMore from Amelia Wicker ↓@poison.or.grapes_poetry on InstagramSupport + Stay Connected to OPOIf you’d like to support the show, Substack and Patreon members receive a copy of my book, For My Daughter, along with episodes from the audiobook.Poetry sustains. Thank you for supporting the podcast.Mentioned in this episode:Write After with One Poem OnlyWrite After is a way to encourage poets to listen and write, and use National Poetry Month to highlight how listening to poetry makes us better poets. I know I write the best when I’m surrounded by beautiful poetry–it’s part of the reason I created this podcast, and I want to encourage others to share this practice. If you want to join: Listen to a poem from the month of April on One Poem Only, then write your own in response. I will pick one for each day to read in June for a special series: One Poem After 🍎🍏 Submissions close May 15.Write After Submissions Form

One Poem Only is a daily poetry podcast offering a quiet moment with a single poem—read aloud, without analysis or noise.HomecomingKara DobiasThe world wants to be kind, I think.But too often, we are warned of its dangersbefore we can meet its light.I learned to live in the shadowof others’ fear and felt it manifestas my own,self-censoring the softestparts of me out of safety,but I’m becoming something new.I don’t want to be good so much as brave.To make the agreement to be disagreeablewhen it counts.If I am to be beholden to anything,let it betruth,so that I may stand as a pillar of a womanyou can lean on.I’ll lay myself bare,and for once, not worry aboutthe consequences.Instead, I’ll choose to embracethe perfect contradictionI know myself to be.The very version of me I learnedto outrun.You can only ignore the gnawing of your soul for so long.So, who have I been denying myself for?An internal tug-of-war that has stood onlyto hurt me.To be a beacon of sincerity,I must show you my true face.I’m easily disillusioned by the mundane.The creator runs deep in my marrow.Left an untapped well,I become undone.I need something I can pour into.That’s the only wayI feel whole.I was never meant to live within the boundsof a limited imagination.I came here to break the mold.This is the end of my season of seeking.No more performing to be palatable.I give myself permission to feel safein being seen.Let opinions fall where they may.I’d rather inspire confusionthan be a vessel for unfulfilled dreams.Finally, I’ve come hometo me.More from Kara Dobias ↓@karadobias on Instagram@karadobias on SubstackHer book, Alive, is available nowSupport + Stay Connected to OPOIf you’d like to support the show, Substack and Patreon members receive a copy of my book, For My Daughter, along with episodes from the audiobook.Poetry sustains. Thank you for supporting the podcast.Mentioned in this episode:Write After with One Poem OnlyWrite After is a way to encourage poets to listen and write, and use National Poetry Month to highlight how listening to poetry makes us better poets. I know I write the best when I’m surrounded by beautiful poetry–it’s part of the reason I created this podcast, and I want to encourage others to share this practice. If you want to join: Listen to a poem from the month of April on One Poem Only, then write your own in response. I will pick one for each day to read in June for a special series: One Poem After 🍎🍏 Submissions close May 15.Write After Submissions Form

One Poem Only is a daily poetry podcast offering a quiet moment with a single poem—read aloud, without analysis or noise. Cradle Meagan Sexton I feel storm-woven into exhale,loud rage of drumpreludes river current tears. Lightening unlids origami eyes—folded corners open as wings of swan take flight to the light.Repression dissipates with release—we speak in tongue of stardust,tender bouts of longing lift by sigh.Fingertips brush skin in feathered silence;this sheen of want cocoons stability. I rainin contemporary know,a rumble of reached echo held like the breath of reason;a cradle of taut vision.More from Meagan Sexton ↓@soul.spills10 on Instagram@meaganswrites on SubstackHer books, Riptides and Rapture and A Sliding Light, are available nowSupport + Stay Connected to OPOIf you’d like to support the show, Substack and Patreon members receive a copy of my book, For My Daughter, along with episodes from the audiobook.Poetry slows us down. Thank you for listening.Mentioned in this episode:Write After with One Poem OnlyWrite After is a way to encourage poets to listen and write, and use National Poetry Month to highlight how listening to poetry makes us better poets. I know I write the best when I’m surrounded by beautiful poetry–it’s part of the reason I created this podcast, and I want to encourage others to share this practice. If you want to join: Listen to a poem from the month of April on One Poem Only, then write your own in response. I will pick one for each day to read in June for a special series: One Poem After 🍎🍏 Submissions close May 15.Write After Submissions Form

One Poem Only is a daily ritual: one poem, center stage, just for now.On the Roof I SeeMirela SalihovicMy little sister and I,When we’re in the tent,love to play a game.We call it:"On the roof I see..."And whoever’s turn it issays what they see on the tent’s roof.On the roof I see…Birds of all sizes.They land on the tent roofand tiptoe across the canvaswith their tiny feet.They wander back and forth.I hear them chirping.Winter is coming.It will be cold under the tent.Mom will bring more blankets and quiltsfrom the humanitarian aid.Father’s friend Ahmedused to sell beautiful quiltsin his little shopat the end of the street.Before they threw rocks at itand destroyed it.The birds fly off to warmer places.On the roof I see…Raindrops.They sparkle in the morning sunlike crystals.On the roof I see…Leaves falling from the treesin autumn.Our old mulberry tree didn’t survive the shell.My sister and Ihid in its trunkwhen we played hide-and-seek.We would hang from its branches.Mom made homemade jamfrom its white clusters.On the roof I see…The moon and stars.The tent’s roof is see-through,so at night,when the sky is clear,you can see the moon and stars.On the roof I see…Mom dustingand bird droppings.On the roof I see…The roof of our old house.Dad says:"When the war is over, we’ll come backand rebuild everything.With our own hands."On the roof I see…I want to believe my dad.I want to go back to elementary school.If there were no war,I’d be in seventh grade.I want to play hide-and-seek againwith my sisterand hide in the old mulberry tree.I want to see my best friend, Omar.I wish we could play with paper airplanes.The ones flying above us nowaren’t as fun.And when I hear the sound of those airplanes nearby,I hold my sisterand lay her head on my chest.And I tell her that on the roof I see…Flowers of every colorgrowing from the tent’s canvas,as if from the earth itself.More from Author ↓@salihowitch on InstagramSupport + Stay Connected to OPOIf you’d like to support the show, Substack and Patreon members receive a copy of my book, For My Daughter, along with episodes from the audiobook.Poetry shows us what we need. Thank you for being part of the experience.Mentioned in this episode:Write After with One Poem OnlyWrite After is a way to encourage poets to listen and write, and use National Poetry Month to highlight how listening to poetry makes us better poets. I know I write the best when I’m surrounded by beautiful poetry–it’s part of the reason I created this podcast, and I want to encourage others to share this practice. If you want to join: Listen to a poem from the month of April on One Poem Only, then write your own in response. I will pick one for each day to read in June for a special series: One Poem After 🍎🍏 Submissions close May 15.Write After Submissions Form