"zoe" poems
When the arc of his watch hands
reached the top of the hour
Sam pushed the throttle forward.
Engine 138 thundered
out of Blossburg station
like an iron dragon
breathing smoke and steam -
whistle shrilling over the Tioga valley.
Powered by coal
the train carried coal
to the waiting city of Elmira
where Sam would press his mother's hand -
perhaps for the final time.
The wheels churning iron on iron
across Pennsylvania farmlands,
turned like other wheels before
moving settlers west
to break its ready earth -
wheels beneath his grandfather's oxcart
turning toward Lycoming's verdant hills.
New wheels now carried America
to urban landscapes
drawing us like electro-magnets
to streetlamps - factories - dry good stores -
new crops for a modern age.
Elmira’s silhouette expanded on the horizon.
and Sam pulled the train in on time -
brakes screeching through billowing steam.
His wife, Jenny and his sister's Sam
came in a horseless carriage
with Zoe, Marie and Edward,
children now grown at their sides.
They all gathered by Hannah's bed
now approaching her final hours
soft voices and fragile smiles
cradled the truth beyond all telling:
Time, ever advancing
like the hands of a fine old watch,
holds us all in its circling sway
© 2006 by Robert Charles Howard
Aug 25, 2017
Aug 25, 2017 at 10:58 AM UTC
I just hugged Zoe and I saw her hickies and wanted
to kiss her lips over and over just like the day
we got high and danced underneath moving lights
and she was in my tutu and her blonde hair
felt right tickling my face and the boy
who is supposed to love her didn't notice
and it made us laugh and laugh because
if we didn’t laugh; we would have cried.
Why do we love to leave behind bruises
on lips and necks and arms and eyes
and teeth? It hurts but no matter what, no
matter how much I crush my teeth together to
hide my yelps, it always turns into this
beautiful, beautiful mark that doesn't want
pressure and looks like a sunset borrowed
it it’s colors because *no one, not even
a bruise, wants to be ugly*.
Oct 23, 2012
Oct 23, 2012 at 8:51 PM UTC
Hard to miss, you can take me home.
I'd rather be anyone than to be alone.
Marlboro-stained teeth
have my lips controlled.
Don't mistake the chemicals
for our souls.
I move with the waters inside your ribcage.
Because when I drown in you,
it's the perfect place.
Softly, please, taking off our clothes:
I can see the kisses that have left holes.
You've been acid-washed
by love that wasn't stronger.
Take off your armor,
so you can stay here longer.
Your face is as cold
as the place I found you in.
You can let go of the hurt
trapped beneath your skin.
I keep warm in your fire that beats fast.
To be alone with you, it to be, at last.
Hard to miss, I will take you home.
You can be anyone, rather than be alone.
Remove your shoes, but not your heart.
You can stay here, as our world falls apart.
Oct 30, 2014
Oct 30, 2014 at 2:52 PM UTC
Chloe's hair, no doubt, was brighter;
Lydia's mouth more sweetly sad;
Hebe's arms were rather whiter;
Languorous-lidded Helen had
Eyes more blue than e'er the sky was;
Lalage's was subtler stuff;
Still, you used to think that I was
Fair enough.
Now you're casting yearning glances
At the pale Penelope;
Cutting in on Claudia's dances;
Taking Iris out to tea.
Iole you find warm-hearted;
Zoe's cheek is far from rough--
Don't you think it's time we parted? . . .
Fair enough!
3.2k
Zoe was always a nymphic
creature
God gifted prodigy
When she was three
she already knew that
above her ecliptics
jade eyes were shaped
as a gift to see within her strange
Zephyr's soul
there were
worlds unreachable
to mortals
indulging
unconscious dance moves
she was performing
a play
finding her way through
piercing sounds of animality and natural wilderness
solely within her mind's eyes
then shut
deliberately
just to prove to the thick jungle
to highly flowering sunflowers
that her head locomotions are fully perceptive
her tiny hands touched the ground
glistening streams of her hair had been long(ing) to touch
her tiny bare heels in pace with every
bonvivant
little step forth
she had been taken
O, Zoe you knew at three
That Zenith is the chosen point
to open up
top portals
of deepest insight
Zoe - there is a moving star
lit to praise
returning to innoccence
Olympic
sensible
smiling
sweetheart
intuitive little one
You could hear cracks and tremblings of every limb to limb
clashed
with dark humid soil and stones and crumbs on every ant trail
every black beetle's step there every futuristic peregreen wizzy wings
Zing(ed)
Apr 16, 2015
Apr 16, 2015 at 1:15 PM UTC
If I could
travel back in time
what would I do?
Would I **** ****** as a baby
to prevent him growing into a
mass murdering maniac?
Would I try to warn
New York City
on September 10th 2001?
Would I keep my mother
from getting on that bus
that killed her in an accident?
Or would I re-live a day
so many times
until I had figured out a way
to get into Zoe's pants
who works in a
coffee-shop nearby?
I don't know
I'd probably just
go back to last night
and check
where I left my fuckin'
car keys
Saving the world...
it's just not worth it
Jul 30, 2013
Jul 30, 2013 at 10:32 AM UTC
I - WORDS LIKE PRISMS
The crystal awaits the perfect slant of sun.
The world turns just so and refracted light
Hurls a color blaze against the wall.
So it is when a long awaited word
Forms on the lips of the wise.
II - WORDS LIKE FLAX
In the fire of conflict,
Words fall to the floor like mounds of charred flax.
Red–faced saints gather clumps to themselves
To spin into finest thread for self-flattering raiment.
III - WORDS WITHOUT WORDS
When pain burrows deep in the marrow
Where words cannot assuage
A gentle touch can bleed some out
And channel hope back in.
No words can spell a kind caress.
IV - POISON WORDS
Beware the charismatic
Carrying a jar of poison pills!
Cover your glass when he passes your way
Or he’ll slip one in unawares.
V - LAUGHING WORDS
Absurdities and failures are the stuff of jokes.
Long live non sequiturs and double entendres!
We love a clumsy tumble into the drink
As long as nobody drowns.
VI - WORDS FOR BUILDING
Of course you can!
I place my total trust in you.
VII - WORD PAINTING
Mister Frost's words never made a wood
Or caused a harness bell to shake.
Even so I’d travel many miles
To see his imagined snow accumulate.
VIII - THE GIFT
My cat, Zoe, never says a word to me!
He doesn't have the tongue or lips or larynx for it.
He cannot fit his paws around a pen.
His brain’s too small for metaphors.
The gift belongs to us alone.
To craft words to build or **** or heal.
Forgive us Zoe for doing little with so much.
July, 2006
Jul 30, 2013
Jul 30, 2013 at 1:20 PM UTC
Against the groaning mast I stand,
The Atlantic surges swell,
To bear me from my native land
And Zoe's wild farewell.
From billow upon billow hurl'd
I can yet hear her say,
'And is there nothing in the world
Worth one short hour's delay?'
'Alas, my Zoe! were it thus,
I should not sail alone,
Nor seas nor fates had parted us,
But are you all my own?'
Thus were it, never would burst forth
My sighs, Heaven knows how true!
But, though to me of little worth,
The world is much to you.
'Yes,' you shall say, when once the dream
(So hard to break!) is o'er,
'My love was very dear to him,
My fame and peace were more.'
2.4k
Zoe was a clever girl, and I wasn't surprised when she wanted to try a haiku-style piece, but it was even cleverer than I had expected, with a correct syllable count and a delightful punch-line.
**Slow-worm in the grass
looks at me with beady eyes
and puts its tongue out.**
(Note: the slow-worm is a legless lizard that looks like a small snake, locally quite common in England.)
I love the suggestion that the creature is being cheeky by putting its tongue out, while we all know - don't we? - that lizards do this to smell the air around them.
Aug 19, 2017
Aug 19, 2017 at 12:14 PM UTC
Man’s best friend,
Her years came to end.
Born in winter,
Passed in summer.
Small but fast,
Refusing to come in last.
Dog shows here and there,
Running away to give me a scare.
Playful and full of energy,
From nothing she would flee.
Picked out from brother and sister,
Only one to play with me from the litter.
My dog was a great Siberian Husky,
My dog was named Zoe.
Her eyes were blue,
Her spirit was true.
White, gray and black fur,
Fetch was not for her.
Summer she relaxed in her pool,
Winter she ran around like a fool.
Old and sick she became,
Only time to blame.
Childhood companion to teenage friend,
To the vet I had to send.
My dog was a great Siberian Husky
My dog was named Zoe.
Feb 9, 2011
Feb 9, 2011 at 1:31 PM UTC
9th month
September2013:
blue skys
warm air
at night it would go cold
the autumn leaves slowly started to fall
still rained from the summer
and the cold wind
started to chill us to the bone
On the first week
i walked to my friends house
with Zoe and her french exchange student Elise on my side,
we waked into Zoes house and sat in the kitchen
Elise had an apple with peanut butter
Me and Zoe Had Soup
We walked after to a little River bank,
Elise sat on the rocks
i skipped flat rocks like Amelie Poulain
Zoe took picutres of the river.
We found a ripped dollar bill with a phone number written on it
Zoe texted it, no answer
it rained later that evening
i reasted on my bed and thought about the day
with a smile
i Biked to my favorite field
one evening...
recited a poem i made up in my head
the one line that i repeted was
" Will the love of Fall and Winter choose me this year?"
a week later a girl named Kirsten walked into my life
with a smile and wave, i wanted to meet her
we talked one day and planned to go to my favorite field
on a Friday..Friday the 13th..not so unlucky
though i cut myself shaving
i went to go meet her that friday
i walked down the stairs
there she was at the bottom of the stair case
"What will become of us?"i thought
She facing the other way,
i wondered if we would become friends
I tapped her on the shoulder
turned around with a surpised look
then she gave me a warm smile
We went to the field
sat in a childrens park
Then sat in the grass that melted in the sun
i showed her a leaf that looked like a heart
..i kept it under my hat...
i walked her home, she lived close by
i gave her a hug and left with a smile on my face
Got home and put the heart leaf on my wall
We became friends
Talked everyday
i would walk her home
and meet her in the field
as i came in riding my bike
She kissed me before i left...
I started to fancy her
she to started fancy me
I asked if she would be mine
she told me wait
i said " i will!"
Nights came
when we walked around looking the stars and looking at the city lights
laying the grass and runnning around
we were happy
The night was ours
She kissed me goodnight
i went home
fell upon my flower my bed
and dreamed of her...
Dec 19, 2013
Dec 19, 2013 at 10:51 PM UTC
Zoe hangs back,
My home-time mayhem
with half a head of hair,
pink neon flashing up her cherry studded arms.
My cufflinks snag and shake,
trying to make her see,
trying to make her see something.
Aug 22, 2014
Aug 22, 2014 at 6:32 PM UTC
What the hell is wrong?
What do you think I'm on?
I'd prefer a downer,
And that you forget about her
My hair is longer and golder
I look like a mermaid when it falls over your shoulder
My waist is small, I could give it all
A bad baby with an always broken heart
When you tell your stories I listen to every word
And I love your shampoo and your sadness
And you know how to read the method to my madness
And how to talk me down when I'm freakin out above this
And all the weird things you do, I do too
Since I was a little girl I didn't think I'd find it
A shooting star that knows how to rocket
Rock it, rock it, dance with me
Smarter than Miranda, prettier than Maddy
Darker than Zoe, sweeter than Bella
And I know it's true cause you always want more
I never get old, you never get bored
Make the smart decision boy, you're a genius
Here's a quarter and a scratch off ticket
Ill be under the first layer
You'll know when you see it
Sep 9, 2013
Sep 9, 2013 at 6:24 PM UTC
I can see stars in the sky
Constellations are putting me in a trance
Lost to my thoughts, all I can do is float through space
Visiting each bright fiery cloud, all an individual Earth
Slowly pulling myself home
The sky turns brown
The color of her eyes
Oct 29, 2012
Oct 29, 2012 at 6:50 PM UTC
flawless writing from flawless people
melting my heart like an ice cube in this ************* heatwave
sort urself out british weather
Aug 9, 2013
Aug 9, 2013 at 5:03 PM UTC
"How old are you?" I ask.
"Guess!" she says and giggles.
Old enough to have a favourite brand of cider
And write poems about breaking up.
Old enough to say, "I don't do boys",
And hold Zoe's hair while Zoe's throwing up.
Old enough to wear a tu-tu in a half ironic way
And not rise to the bait, whatever chavie-di and chavie-dum might say.
We're dancing down the high street
Up the sunsplashed canal
Underneath the pirate bridge
It's like another town;
Camden's wearing make-up
Like a goth come out in Spring
The teens are taking over
And they're forcing us to sing
Bring yourself, bring a smile
Bring bring what you can bring
The teen's are taking over
And they're forcing us to sing.
"How old are you?" I ask.
Flirteen she says, and giggles.
Feb 22, 2011
Feb 22, 2011 at 5:15 AM UTC
Zzzzz
Zzzzz
-Zzzzz
Zzzzz
Zz...
(???)
Zoe?
-Zzzzz
Zzzzz
Zoe??
-Zzzzz
Zzzzz
ZOE!!!
-Zz...!
Zane?
'Za,
Zucchini,
Zinfandel?
-Zzzzz
Zoe!
-Zz...
Zane?!
'Za,
Zucchini,
Zinfandel?
-Zaxby's
Zalad
Zaxby's
Zalad?
-Zzzzz
Zzzzz
ZOE!
-Zz...!
Zane?!
Zaxby's
Zalad???
(???)
Zoe,
Zaxby's
Zalad?
-'Za,
Zucchini,
Zinfandel
Zzzzz
Zzzzz
-Zane?
© 2020 by Mark Toney. All rights reserved.
Jan 4, 2020
Jan 4, 2020 at 12:02 PM UTC
Have the *****
the SPIRIT
the SPINAL BONES stacked strong and straight
Have the GUMPTION
the STRENGTH
Have the JAW to take a knock for honesty
Have the FREEDOM
for goodness sake
Don’t tell me what you should
tell me something REAL
Say what I know you’re thinking,
Say it LOUD
Be proud of your thought
think for yourself
Throw a curveball of integrity
into the conversation
leading to apathy
Say it with your EYES
as well as your lips
Don’t just mouth the words
like some mechanical clone
People need to push up against your SOUND
Rub lies up the wrong way
stop saying what is safe
Try to match untruth
WORD for WORD
with the straight, black, hard line
that runs right through people’s shifting eyes
Be UNCOMFORTABLE
UNCOMPROMISING
Speak your words like a gift to heads starved
for RIGHT
Speak up man
Speak up to the man
Let your speech slam against the grain
don’t be a fool swimming with the tide
give people the PEARLS of your mind
Don’t ever be blinded
for the sake of a world
without a spine
Say the words
that have been buried deep
under a pile of correctness
and say them
NOW.
© 2012 Zoe Tuckey
Jul 23, 2012
Jul 23, 2012 at 7:21 AM UTC
It's untitled because I'm still dreaming it up
designing their costumes
applying their make-up
I think one of them should say funny things
bringing the audience to their knees
Yeah...
the ideas are pouring in
Okay, I've got it
Act I
FADE IN:
that's where I'll begin
You never know what Zoe will say next...
she'll be hysterically funny, and very complex
(playing my protagonist)
bringing bubbles of joy
(even to my antagonist)
Yeah..
Zoe tends to do funny things
not even realizing the laughter she brings
because everyone will see themselves
in the situational stories she tells...
Act II
Zoe loses her shoes...
she thinks they're magic
(it will seem quite tragic)
maybe you'll cry
and, you won't know why
you'll just find it sad
to watch a person that's normally so happy, and glad
just to be in this world
to have emotions that swirl
you'll be cheering for her
to get back to the way things were
before she thought she lost her shoes
the ones she thinks are magic
(she's gonna have the blues)
I'll write a transition here
it comes from, Carlos Diaz, he'll be a true friend...
(he'll help her transcend)
Act III
Zoe finds her magic shoes
(but she'll have to pay some kind of price, or fee)
I'll have her find a key that will make her see...
that she can get back to the way things were
before she began to swerve
thinking life had way too many curves
(it seems so unlike her)
Yeah, he'll help her get back to the beginning
when she found humor in the darkest places
even in the eyes, and expressions of the all the strange faces
that had been tossed her way...
because her imagination was busy at play
Yeah..
You'll be so happy for her
that she's finally back to the way things were
her friend, Carlos Diaz...
he'll be the one to remind her of all the joy she can bring
(by this point you'll all want to sing)
because Zoe can find humor in almost anything.
Jul 24, 2013
Jul 24, 2013 at 1:52 PM UTC
All this time,
it was written in the dirt
The sordid earth
would quake like drums
Your gaze felt
like an untouched rock
Still they sob
from the beautiful rain
All of this pain,
Is lost to the chasing trill
Of running still
Oct 13, 2023
Oct 13, 2023 at 10:11 AM UTC
you are the shiver down my spine
the sinking feeling in my stomach
the stone that trips me up
you are the one that got away
but is still right here
you are the one I can’t get over
you are the one I can’t get back
you are the wind I’m grasping at
the dream I am already forgetting
but the feeling sticks around
you are the one I’ve always wanted
you are the one I’ve never had
you’re the best thing that ever happened
and the worst I’ve ever known
I don’t love you
It’s just lust
I tell myself so I can sleep
I have no feelings left inside me
nothing left to give to you
I poured myself out
now I’m empty
wish that you would bring me back
Sep 7, 2013
Sep 7, 2013 at 1:07 AM UTC
She's whatever I want her to be,
A little part in you and me.
She haunts my dreams with autumn hair,
She's always red, she's always there.
She calls with leaves falling off her skin,
The needles of pines and light from within.
She walks through fog and brings the sun,
The ink of prayers, the air of my lungs.
She's whatever She wants to be,
She is me
She is me
She is me...
Apr 3, 2019
Apr 3, 2019 at 12:17 AM UTC
Sleep would be hogs
Hogs would be cool
Cool would be cry
Cry would be arid
Arid would be Tibet
Tibet would be Werner
Werner would be guide
Guide would be Zoe's
Zoe's would be awesome
what did I just write?
Jan 15, 2014
Jan 15, 2014 at 9:23 AM UTC
If the streets could talk they’d tell me to come back to them, that I need them, I’m truthfully not “better off without” them.
If I could respond to the streets I’d say I don’t need you. This is my battle and I’m at rock bottom. I can only go up, and as I go up… I will no longer see you because I’m twelve hundred percent sure that I am better off without you. I don’t need to be high to fulfill the darkest parts of my soul. I don’t need to be high to be happy, content, or musically talented. It isn’t aesthetic. It’s not aesthetic. It. Is. Not. Aesthetic.
If the streets could talk they’d say **** you for becoming sober. That’s the worst choice you could’ve made in years. That decision is worse than trying to **** yourself. See the streets would rather see you dead from addiction, as opposed to becoming sober.
Well, **** you for making me want to become sober. **** you for making me want to die. And honestly, ***** you for everything you’ve torn from me. From sending me to jail as a tiny seventeen-year-old to making me off myself a good 4 times just ‘cause I couldn’t find drugs.
The streets would even go as far as to say: “rip everyone off, do bunches of drugs, leave everyone dry around you, and call it a day. Then sleep the high off, and next time you have an appointment, come to it high. #YOLO”
Y’anno what? YOLO is one ******** phrase. I live once, you’re right, Mr.Streets. But I want to be sober the majority of this living. I’m 18 and a half and have so much further to go in life. I want to become an addictions art therapist and I want to be at Zoe and Eden’s weddings. I want so much in life. None of which concerns the streets.
“Don’t listen to that cliche music, says the streets. Y’anno? That Macklemore **** that’s all about becoming clean? Eminem? Nah. None of that. You listen to music that glorifies drugs.” says the streets.
Also, if it takes listening to “Starting Over” by Macklemore 20 times a day and Dave’s Song by Whitney another 30 times a day, I’ll do it. Because at least I’ll be sober. Singing is something that brings me utter joy. As is writing and painting. And in order to do my best. I need to be pretty **** sober.
“No cigarettes do not count as addiction. Want to know what does? Buying pills with your disability checks. Now that ***** ******* great. **** you for trying to get clean.” the streets say.
Bro. I’m bro-ing to you because we’ve reached that point of nonsense. You don’t get it, do you? I need to not spend my minimal money on drugs. Yes, cigarettes are a drug. I’ll get there with quitting those too. Instead of drugging myself up, I need to dye my hair, watch slam poetry, and sing. Sing. sing. Sing. Sing until my heart is full and complete.
Jun 23, 2019
Jun 23, 2019 at 11:29 AM UTC