Original poetry by Victoria Stokoe ~Instagram ~ victoriastokoepoetry

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  • victoriastokoe 30w

    Comfort food
    I ate all I was accustomed to.
    I shook it all to my feet.
    There was plenty of room to keep it
    as all my life had been sweet.
    Problems, I didn't really have any.
    At least they didnt show on my face.
    But I was restless because we
    always kept moving.
    Different schools, different houses
    in each place.
    Now I'm settled and I have been for ages.
    But the room I still find to complete.
    The missing pieces, the fear of leaving.
    The fear of losing.
    And I still shake it all down to my feet.

    Victoria Stokoe
    Finished 02-04-2021

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    Comfort food


  • victoriastokoe 35w

    In the haze of gaslight

    How can I change
    what I've come to bear.
    A burden, less of a ball
    and chain..
    Iron filled with air.
    A brittle shell of rust.
    I react, failing to be
    A message
    I know you send.
    A message,
    that's never there.
    How can I see that
    I'm no longer me.
    I'm someone held
    back by a shadow..
    That's darker than
    it used to be.
    The weight of it,
    easier to carry,
    as my body learnt
    to live with pain.
    You tell me that
    I'm not myself.
    I go to look,
    in the mirror.
    Yet I can't figure out,
    what's changed?
    Victoria Stokoe
    No date
    All dates

  • victoriastokoe 35w

    I can't tell you
    how to grind your teeth
    or where to split tape
    revealing what's underneath.
    The gnawing with a good dream
    explains a Freudian slip
    and yet I wake up smiling
    with a jaw ache and bit lip.

    A circus would offer me candy floss
    in part payment,
    yet a sideshow
    would be more fitting
    with this MaDnEss or this clarity?
    as you screw people over
    without hesitation.

    I see everything and I'm helping myself
    as I climb up the Helter Skelter.
    Jumping to the seized ferris wheel to view
    clown hair moving, slapstick and tripping.
    At height everything is extreme.

    Our smiles are fake,
    only because I told you
    that you've had enough.
    You really never knew..
    Or even knew how to remove
    polystyrene baubles
    from your hands.
    Victoria Stokoe
    25th March 2021


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  • victoriastokoe 35w

    The breeze
    left behind
    an uncanny
    to baked donuts.
    Dry mouth clicks.
    D, d, donut.

    Despite being
    in the middle of
    I feel drooling
    can't be acceptable,
    even in lonliness.

    My eyes flicker,
    to suggestions.
    But I have none.
    Imagination smells
    like real life today.
    That's a new one from
    2 and 3d images and oasis's.

    Sounds have always been
    Dolby atmos.
    Sound sensitive to rattles
    and tortuous laughter but
    a bad movie would now
    appease my strange,
    painful growls.

    Is my hunger valid..
    Am I valid or dead.
    I ate a few plants.
    Poison is food.
    My numb lips think
    p, p, poison,
    in a backdrop of thunder.
    and desolation.

    I'll sit hunched
    till a whirr of blades
    stirs up the dust.
    Or a pack of wolves
    stirs up the dust.
    Victoria Stokoe
    25th March 2021

    #136words #mydescent #madnessorclarity

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  • victoriastokoe 37w

    Odes fall
    upon my ears.
    A silence
    may well be.
    For no one hears
    my heart beat.
    No one does
    care for me.
    Love falls
    as snow
    around me.
    The icy chill
    won't take much
    to thaw,
    for my body
    may be frozen,
    my heart's a fire
    in its ember core.

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  • victoriastokoe 38w

    A shadow's footprints.

    In the midst of all this..
    Apprehension takes
    all our inhalations.
    Invalidates our peace.

    We need calm at the helm
    of our existence.
    We need to steer
    around this beast.

    When I silent walk
    in the birdsong silence.
    Hearing not my
    weary heart.

    I tread with Angel's
    as they surround me.
    They take my anguish,
    as they depart.

    Victoria Stokoe
    6th March 2020

  • victoriastokoe 39w


    I want to be part of the woods.
    Listen forever to the crisp leaves
    by passers by, under foot.
    Birds curious sensing someone is there,
    someone who neither pounces,
    someone who never scares.

    I want to be part of the flora.
    A little girl smiles at the angel,
    keeping the secret that she saw her.
    She doesn't say a word,
    offers tiny flowers for my hair,
    every time she visits there.

    I want to be part of the canopy.
    Folded branches against
    the brighter sun.
    Laughter echoes as children run
    and fungi grows in mulched
    autumn leaves.
    She still brings me flowers,
    in her twilight years.

    I want to be part of the breeze.
    Two of us play now, we flit and dart.
    Hide and seek in the winter,
    keeping warm our hearts.
    A dog's sniff, gets too close.
    We laugh and fly to the treetop,
    to watch the lake boats.

    I want to be part of the woods.
    A small face catches
    a glimpse of our wings.
    Eyes big in surprise and in wonder
    just staring.
    She leaves us tiny flowers,
    we move closer and in whispers
    'Please do visit us again and
    one day we will play.'

    Victoria Stokoe
    3rd March 2021

  • victoriastokoe 39w

    Love thyself

    Love thyself and
    true to thought
    become a sky
    of blue.
    Love all you are,
    what you've become,
    pick a rose tint
    to look through.
    Love thyself and
    less to judge,
    faults create
    earth after all.
    Landscapes of rivers,
    hills and craggs.
    non conforming..
    Our gaze to those
    does fall.
    Love thyself,
    ne'er feel unloved,
    as a stormy
    windswept sea,
    for a lesser verse
    wouldn't move me
    and I see only
    poetry in thee.
    26th February 2021
    Victoria Stokoe

  • victoriastokoe 40w

    Images I wish to fold
    and mould into
    the shape of you.
    Even silent, the hug
    would mend me
    for a moment.
    Till you crumpled,
    till I squeezed too hard.
    Breaking my own bones,
    wishing dust of myself
    as I hold you together.
    But it's not you.
    Gloss paper forever,
    as I flatten you back.
    Till I need that bit more.

    Victoria Stokoe
    18th February 2021


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  • victoriastokoe 41w

    Build empires that others can dream in ��

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    Build empires for others
    to dream in..