Posts Tagged ‘Linda Crate’

demise of the flowers 
i am a rain drop
burning in the gaze of the sun
once your petals
saved me from destruction
now they scorch me every time
i tried so hard to save us,
but we were the moment falling through
the cracks of the sun’s memory;
only winter remembers us
wretched and broken —
frozen and hollow i once remember
that summer reached me with
warmth and recalled me minutes with you
spent in joy and happiness;
but that all seems so far away now
i’ve been walking in a fog that
doesn’t end, it only spreads its fingers
like the arms of weeds flowing
effortlessly into my
flower garden, choking the flowers
of their nutrients causing tubers to
faint with entropy, the same
demise you subjected me to here.
– linda m. crate
dead roses 
a bird sits
head bent
over the sidewalk
devouring morsels
found in
threadbare pieces
of grass
littering the cement;
without wanting to do
the work of digging up it’s
food much like you
dreaming up a
romance thinking the
flower garden would bloom and bloom
without the aid of your hands
finding the weeds
that needed pulled or
during the dry spells —
you sat idly by
let our romance die as i fought
as hard as i could to water
both our gardens,
yours grew out of my control
left me barren and alone
my roses could
not kiss yours the way they once did
so i remain here broken and
limping through life,
you oblivious to my pain as you
look through the thorns
only seeing rose petals
without realizing
they’re dead.
– linda m. crate
for the love of cheese 
you can fondle my cheese any day
make it gouda
prov me with your lone
travel alone to all the holes of the alps
pepper me with your hot
but keep your brie away from me
sprinkle me with your cheddar
dance with me through trees of mozzarella
keep bleu in the sky
feed me colby jack from rivers of nacho cheese
make my mouth salivate with
yellowed memories of america
dancing on your tongue
be a munster beneath the sheets
lim me with your burger,
the earth has it’s jewels and it’s disasters
just forget them all with me;
otherwise i’ll be pomegranate as a sunset
let’s leave the cream to milk
devour some monterey jack as we watch
the world destroy itself, we’ll comfortably eat our
cheese peppered with more flavor than some 
of the people we know.
– linda m. crate 

the life of a sub girl

rude patrons
demand their sandwiches
and they want them
made yesterday; none of them
considering or caring how
they might inconvenience me
only knowing that it would be the
end of the world should
they be inconvenienced; i try
hard to keep myself from spewing something
ugly in a temper knowing it would
only induce their laughter or
scorn, perhaps, both –
i wonder if everyone in pennsylvania was
born in a barn except for me, sometimes,
there aren’t the manners here that there
is in quaint maine towns full of
the same lovely scenery;
home doesn’t feel like it\’s here,
but in maine where i left my heart with my lover,
and to whom i wish so desperately to return;
he\’s the reason i took this job so i could get some
income to return to the place i so love –
the world sighs in loveliness,
and me in resentment
sometimes i think i’d be happier if i were a flower
my only duties and responsibilities to grow,
and produce fragrance beautiful
because then whispers and hatred couldn’t reach me
nor hurt me, the only sensitivity i’d have
would be found in my petals.
– linda m. crate
monster child
sometimes i wait until i can’t take it any more then explode — purposefully like fireworks on the forth of july. i burn anyone i dislike with the flames of my thoughts. don’t stand too close, you may catch my social disease. awkward, i stumble into a room full of doves when i am a giraffe  i spill coffee unto all those white feathers, and they hate me for it. i could never drink in the sun, i’ve always drank in silver moonbeams their light enough to keep away the nightmares that used to plague me as a child — always too inventive for my own good, my imagination crawled with monsters that would make grown men scream. i wonder if i was meant to be a mermaid, my siren voice seems to screech harpies to life from seaweed. i close my eyes and the leaves of autumn are startled off of trees, and even the crows scowl at my shadow. i wonder what kind of manner of monster i must be. they tell me my father was one, and i believe i take after him. why else would the universe try to singularly make me stick out the sorest thumb in all the world? i am chaos dancing on the tip of vertigo’s tongue, i just haven’t figured out my design to destroy the universe. not yet.
– linda m. crate
train wreck
like a train wreck
i want to see myself crash —
to roll across a river,
and not be aware of myself
the water will replace
blood running through my veins;
the world is a telescope,
all it’s perspectives varied upon the
person that sees it;
sometimes i think the government
just screams some weird jargon
of what they think the world ought to
be, and yet it exists without them;
corrode my veins, sweet water,
and make the iron as
fiery red as my passion blazing through
the countryside of my youth —
do not diminish my intelligence by
cruel words, i am young but i am wiser
than my years and colder than winter
when fury alights my brow.
– linda m. crate
behind the hatred
there was love in
their eyes, but they
didn’t believe it —
because believing
us meant they never
would; they wished
death upon us with
their unsaid words —
they spoke more
volumes than the
longest book known
to mankind; they
spoke with more
severity than the old
testament and sprawled
their spines before us
showily like a Pharisee —
I didn’t know whether
to laugh or cry so I did both —
it doesn’t matter what they
think, we know we’re true
and that’s all that matters.
– linda m. crate
her moon
out in, out in, out in
breathing him in was the
only thing that kept her
sane — breathing in
the nicotine that laced
his breath — out in, out
in, out in she just had
to convince herself it was
worth it; each day she
felt as if she were slipping
out of her own skin, she
looked at her reflection in
the mirror — she didn’t
recognize the woman staring
back at her; it was not her,
out in and out in and out in
taking in the scent of her
beloved was the only
thing that was worth meaning —
she lost her reason and her
worth in the silver sheen of
his words glittering brighter
than moon dust upon dew.
– linda m. crate
forbidden fruit
he touched her heart
just by smiling at her
she always savored
each piece of him she
was given; she sewed
it into the fabric of her
life, though, she knew
she could never have
him; he was not hers to
hold in her embrace —
so she’d hold him in her
chest of lust, never to be
unlocked; he was that
forbidden fruit, but his
Eve had cottoned on to
her so all she could do
was watch him and pretend
that he loved her back, too.
– linda m. crate