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Best Poems Written by John Zoller

Below are the all-time best John Zoller poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

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Natural Disaster

Natural Disaster

You have the compassion of a blizzard and the patience of an avalanche
Your derision trickles like a monsoon.
You drown me in disdain.
Flooded by your expectations, my capacities sank.

You are my natural disaster.

You are a hurricane of indecency, a tornado of contempt.
You are a Typhoon raging over my failings.
My army of good intentions surrenders to your gales of dissatisfaction.
You blow me away as a gnat.

You are my natural disaster.

The earth quakes from your judgment. You are predictable like a fault line.
We are a mud slide pouring into a chasm.
Me first, you shove
Into our crevasse of discontent, we fall together.

You are my natural disaster.

You are lightening. I have no ground.
The warmth of our love you kindled
into solar fission and into scorched conflagration you drove.
Your future is hot. Mine unwritten.

You are my natural disaster.

     _ _ _

JD Zoller.  (C) 11-30-2016

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Texting

Texting

A lament of texting.
I regret the suplantation of
Conversation with  random
Truncations of thought and 
Ideas into texting

As if a few thumb prints on 
A “key board”  were 
Satisfactory substitutions
For actual communication!
Talking involves randomly synchronized
Exchanges of phrases, 
One layered upon or bouncing
Against another.

Real worlds  and Ideas
don’t fit into three hundred 
Thousand sound bites,
Much less into text messages, 
Of any length on any
Phone.

If all you have to say to your
Father,
Is through text messaging,
then please don’t
Bother.

_   _     _

JDZoller
April 24, 2010

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Karhlsruhe Hbf

“Karlsruhe Hbf”

A man wore a bib on the outside of his down jacket
at Weiner Feinbacher.
Struedel doesn’t drip.
Poinsettias from Blumen leaving on the next train,
maybe from the same platform where 
945 Jews departed.
Citizens unwillingly embarked. 
The beginning of the end of their journeys.

Now 500 Euro strollers pass by the obscure corner
where Officials  placed the not too big “Fidelitas” sign,
a generous, shame filled, failed attempt
to tell the truth about the indescribable horrors.
The façade a beautiful  art deco of scalloped concrete.
Tracks supported by stylized
girders of industrial progress. 
How many opatrons  passing beneath 
the abundant curtains of Christmas lights,
grabbing a McCafe for the ICE,
recall the role the Hauptbahnhof  played 
for the victims of the  3rd Reich.  
Has it been long enough, too long,
to constantly commemorate?
Veritas, Fidelitas.
If the sign were bigger and put somewhere so 
People would see it, going to or from the planned Karlsruhe,
It would be another start.
-	-     -
JDZoller  - Copyright © December 2009

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Old Tofu

Old Tofu Haiku

my tofu was old
and with me it did not stay
better to throw away

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Skewers

Skewers

Explaining the irony of
the wonderful choice of your gift
of Skewers

For our wedding
has escaped description
for far too long.

And they are quite long.
The skewers, silver,
balanced, stainless, and
uncommonly sharp.

The handles satisfy,
even before they 
plunge into unsuspecting
vegetables or seasoned, marinated
limp deserving flesh.

We love the skewers
and employ them far too
rarely.  There are so
many meats deserving to be 
Stuck!

Of course, a divorce lawyer getting married,
the second time, is 
another kabob of 
delicious irony, to the gift of 
Skewers.

And forget not the
spicy rub! A rub!  
Something applied with care,
with conditions and expectations
Skewers and a Rub!

There is, of course, no
correlation, I know. 
Though I skewer people for
a living and rub many the
wrong way, 

Skewers and a rub for
a divorce lawyer,
at his second wedding
Is just too perfect a gift. 
Thank you; for the
skewers and the rub.


(c) copyright 2010 - JDZoller

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Wasch Und Fun

"Wasch und Fun"

No need to translate for me for an hour and a half.
You left me to wash  undies at the Wasch und Fun 
while you shopped for lox and wine.
I found the soap and the wasch; but the Fun  eludes.

Every patron, 
even the suspect simultaneously wearing four pairs of pants,
switched out of Deutsch, enjoying the random and unexpected
dusting off of their  Englisch. 

We were united in our cluelessness
of the washing machines mannerisms and the 
strange dichotomy on the open door with the sign that said  “geschlossen”.
We washed in defiance of the sign, desperate for clean clothes on Christmas,
urgently willing the machines to finish drying before the sign proved true. 

You blended into your town again; repatriated anonymity. 
An  American disguised as a local, shopping on Christmas eve in Freiburg,
while your new husband washed undies,
happily oblivious to almost every word  anyone uttered.
Ninety minutes without a translator. Clean clothes and 
Wine for Christmas in Deutschland. 
Bitte.
     -   -   -	                    
JDZoller   Copyright (c) December 2009

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Organs To Think With

Some folks use four different organs
to think with,
but only one of them
has any brains.

One of them is sometimes
a wallet. You can imagine
the other two
since only one of them
has any brains.

Another sometimes breaks.
You can imagine
the other one
since only one of them
has any brains.

---

JDZoller  Copyright © Feb 8, 2010

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Dragons

Dragons of despair and desolate
Spoil. You slay them over and over,
dying daily;  resurrecting hourly.
Fire up as you fall down, none of your 
Dragons can see you.

If you don’t like them, you should leave them alone.
Stay out so they can’t come in to. Stay out too long and you
lose your way in. Your dragons of despair really don’t care.
   _    _     _

jdzoller - copyright (C) 2012

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Stripe

"Stripe"

For no particular reason 
The clouds cleared 
And the sun shone bright and
the month of old snow  
melted enough to reveal half
 of the mud beneath.

For no particular reason 
a neighborhood cat took a stroll
across the dirty brown ridges of ice on the tree lawns, 
across the finally dry street, up the drive. 
Without a care in its head. 
The Feline lept up onto the just washed car
and bathed on the roof, in the sun, 
just to drive the dogs in the house
insane.

For no particular reason 
The sparkling clean car stood  like a 
Palimino in the sun,  oozing a
Stripe of muddy paw prints
Centered from bumper to bumper,
 
Readiness for the next war
Of road salt, and snow and grey traffic
For no particular reason at all.

JDZoller Copyright © 1-16-2010

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Door Way

Door Way

Standing there planted
between Ingress and Egress 
Blathering in the Doorway
stalls the Princess unmoving

Other guests attempt to pass
Her Royal Highness 
Silhouetted pain in the ass 
Amused voyageurs  disapproving   

Subjects transgressing 
Fields of banter and blithe squabble
withering desperately
To  whom no ground is yielded
Seeking better conversation


Movers vie against the immobile
unyielding impassables
Progress of the ingress
Or the egress of the
sucessfull idea
For your process
Of life.


Get out of the passage
Away from the door 
To one side or the other
Threshold of this way or
 that way
 

JDZoller     Copyright © January 2010