One Poem Only Titelbild

One Poem Only

One Poem Only

Von: Maggie Devers
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Über diesen Titel

A daily reading. A quiet moment. One poem, center stage: just for now, just for you. A one-night-only show, in verse. I'm Maggie Devers, and each day I'll read you one poem—nothing more, nothing less. No analysis, no noise—just a little space to listen. Come back tomorrow. The curtain rises again.Maggie Devers Kunst Persönliche Entwicklung Persönlicher Erfolg Unterhaltung & Darstellende Künste
  • The Tender Descending by Ellie A
    Jan 10 2026
    The Tender DescendingEllie AThe earth exhales and everything slows.The trees remember what it means to be bare.We gather what warmth remains in our handsand stitch our dreams beneath quiet skies.Each flake that lands upon the skinis a messenger of mercy,a reminder that even in endings,something tender still descends.

    More from Ellie A ↓

    1. @lines_between_living on Instagram and @linesbtwnliving on Substack
    2. Read more from her on her blog, Lines Between Living

    Mentioned in this episode:

    Join the mailing list to be the first to know when OPO submissions open ⬇️

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    1 Min.
  • Part Oracle, Part Warrior by Aslam
    Jan 9 2026
    part oracle, part warrior Aslam a crescent moon, hangs like a scaron her shoulder’s silence.her lips sealedby vow or violence.
    her eyes do not ask.they know.they have watched empires bleedon blades of their own lies.
    she stands in gray,spine unbent,each scar a sentenceshe never had to explain.
    call it rebellion.call it myth.a womanwho no longer waits.
    she is the ink and the echo,the storm braided into calm.
    you may look,but you will not read her.not everyone seeswhat silence reveals.
    so i offer you a line,a voice shaped by defiance,a presence drawn in truth.
    let me speak for her,since her lips are sealed:she would not kneel.
    she is herefor you to bow.

    More from Aslam ↓

    1. @smmaslam on Instagram
    2. @aslammohammed on Substack
    3. His book, Paper Boat in Rumi’s Garden, is available now

    Mentioned in this episode:

    Join the mailing list to be the first to know when OPO submissions open ⬇️

    🖋️ Read My Newsletter: Free Flow 🖋️

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    2 Min.
  • On Learning to Dissect Fetal Pigs by Renée Nicole Good
    Jan 8 2026
    On Learning to Dissect Fetal PigsRenée Nicole Good

    This poem was awarded the Academy of American Poets Prize in 2020.

    i want back my rocking chairs,

    solipsist sunsets,
    & coastal jungle sounds that are tercets from cicadas and pentameter from the hairy legs of cockroaches.
    i’ve donated bibles to thrift stores
    (mashed them in plastic trash bags with an acidic himalayan salt lamp—
    the post-baptism bibles, the ones plucked from street corners from the meaty hands of zealots, the dumbed-down, easy-to-read, parasitic kind):
    remember more the slick rubber smell of high gloss biology textbook pictures; they burned the hairs inside my nostrils,
    & salt & ink that rubbed off on my palms.
    under clippings of the moon at two forty five AM I study&repeat
    ribosome
    endoplasmic—
    lactic acid
    stamen

    at the IHOP on the corner of powers and stetson hills—

    i repeated & scribbled until it picked its way & stagnated somewhere i can’t point to anymore, maybe my gut—
    maybe there in-between my pancreas & large intestine is the piddly brook of my soul.

    it’s the ruler by which i reduce all things now; hard-edged & splintering from knowledge that used to sit, a cloth against fevered forehead.
    can i let them both be? this fickle faith and this college science that heckles from the back of the classroom


    now i can’t believe—
    that the bible and qur’an and bhagavad gita are sliding long hairs behind my ear like mom used to & exhaling from their mouths “make room for wonder”
    all my understanding dribbles down the chin onto the chest & is summarized as:
    life is merely
    to ovum and sperm
    and where those two meet
    and how often and how well
    and what dies there.
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    3 Min.
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