Circe by H.D.

Circe by H.D.

Author: Maggie Devers May 9, 2025 Duration: 3:00

Circe

H.D. 1886 – 1961

It was easy enough
to bend them to my wish,
it was easy enough
to alter them with a touch,
but you
adrift on the great sea,
how shall I call you back?

Cedar and white ash,
rock-cedar and sand plants
and tamarisk
red cedar and white cedar
and black cedar from the inmost forest,
fragrance upon fragrance
and all of my sea-magic is for nought.

It was easy enough—
a thought called them
from the sharp edges of the earth;
they prayed for a touch,
they cried for the sight of my face,
they entreated me
till in pity
I turned each to his own self.

Panther and panther,
then a black leopard
follows close—
black panther and red
and a great hound,
a god-like beast,
cut the sand in a clear ring
and shut me from the earth,
and cover the sea-sound
with their throats,
and the sea-roar with their own barks
and bellowing and snarls,
and the sea-stars
and the swirl of the sand,
and the rock-tamarisk
and the wind resonance—
but not your voice.

It is easy enough to call men
from the edges of the earth.
It is easy enough to summon them to my feet
with a thought—
it is beautiful to see the tall panther
and the sleek deer-hounds
circle in the dark.

It is easy enough
to make cedar and white ash fumes
into palaces
and to cover the sea-caves
with ivory and onyx.

But I would give up
rock-fringes of coral
and the inmost chamber
of my island palace
and my own gifts
and the whole region
of my power and magic
for your glance.

Mentioned in this episode:

Write After: National Poetry Month with One Poem Only

Write 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. We'll get started in April. You can share to #WriteAfterOPO.

#WriteAfterOPO


Each day, One Poem Only offers a brief, deliberate pause. Hosted by Maggie Devers, this podcast is built on a simple, consistent premise: a single poem, read aloud, without analysis or introduction. It’s an audio space where the words themselves are the event, a performance meant to be absorbed in the few minutes it takes to hear it. The daily rhythm of the show creates a quiet ritual, a point of reflection woven into a busy life. You might hear a classic sonnet, a piece of modern free verse, or a work from a poet you’ve never encountered. The selection is varied, touching on themes from the natural world to the intricacies of human emotion, always leaving room for your own interpretation. The effect is cumulative; listening regularly becomes a subtle form of education in the sound and scope of poetry, and a small act of self-care. This isn't a lecture or a book club, but a performing art delivered directly to your ears. Maggie’s clear, thoughtful readings provide the only framework needed, allowing each poem to stand entirely on its own. The curtain falls, and the moment passes, but the podcast invites you to return tomorrow when a new piece takes center stage, offering another quiet moment, one poem only.
Author: Language: English Episodes: 355

One Poem Only
Podcast Episodes
Twenty-First. Night. Monday by Anna Akhmatova [not-audio_url] [/not-audio_url]

Duration: 1:53
Twenty-First. Night. Monday Anna Akhmatova Twenty-first. Night. Monday.Silhouette of the capitol in darkness.Some good-for-nothing–who knows why–made up the tale that love exists on earth.People believe it, maybe from la…
"If a tree falls" by Amelia Dunn [not-audio_url] [/not-audio_url]

Duration: 4:04
"If a tree falls" Amelia Dunn If a tree falls in the forest and no one is around to notice does it make a sound?Does its impact even hit the ground? Will the wind still whistle Or will silence echo in the burrows of what…
Another Day in May by Anthony Robinson [not-audio_url] [/not-audio_url]

Duration: 2:29
Another Day in MayAnthony Robinson Now more coffee and Brian Wilson And skittering creatures. I've eatenTacos for three days straight and DadIs still on oxygen. To feel intense griefNot right now is also to feel guiltyCo…
"Gone are the days" by Rusha Chatterjee [not-audio_url] [/not-audio_url]

Duration: 1:55
"Gone are the days" Rusha Chatterjee Gone are the dayswhen my house felt like home,now the rooms filled with thousandmemories feels like a cage,suffocating and cold,laughs from my childhood echoes throughout the space ma…
"Nobody is coming to save you" by Georgia Groza [not-audio_url] [/not-audio_url]

Duration: 3:44
"Nobody is coming to save you" Georgia Groza Nobody is coming to save you Stitch it back up, learn to live with it. The world doesn’t begin and end at the kitchen tablemore than likely everything is preceded by a bed.It…
Remember by Olivia Woods [not-audio_url] [/not-audio_url]

Duration: 2:11
Remember Olivia Woods Your apples were as savory as sunlight I can’t remember the last time they seemed so sweetThe last time they were as red as rosesThe last time they smelt so greatI fear there is nothing left here an…
Sunday Recap & Kick It by Maggie Devers [not-audio_url] [/not-audio_url]

Duration: 14:24
Here’s your recap of this week’s poems plus one new poem to carry us into the week ahead.Sep 29 - Lebensabschnittspartner by Sarthak Mukherji @sarthaksays on Instagram and TikTok.Sep 30 - Taemong by Kimberly McAfee @writ…
Bloodfruit by Abby Zhang [not-audio_url] [/not-audio_url]

Duration: 3:28
Bloodfruit Abby Zhang Say it, like you used to peel blood oranges with your teeth, Ma.The flesh splits soft and shivering under the pressure,its rind stuck under your fingernails. Juice spilling—licking your lips with th…
Silver Filigree by Travers Charron [not-audio_url] [/not-audio_url]

Duration: 3:01
Silver Filigree Travers Charron Before the day unbuttons its sky,while morning’s breath still clings to the grass, I find it—a single web,threaded between two branches, a silver filigreetrembling in dew.Each strand,so th…
i am not a poet by Kole Kealey [not-audio_url] [/not-audio_url]

Duration: 4:03
i am not a poet Kole Kealey i touched rock bottom before i ever touched apen, so do not call me a poetcall me your mother tongue,burning the back of your throat making yourblood boil, a taste you can’t quite name butrhym…