Posts Tagged ‘Linda M. Crate’


 

a monster, truly 

it’s a shame

you can’t drink tea

anymore

perhaps you ought’ve

stuck with

drinking coffee,

but no one would say

you were the most

sensible;

you did trade a ruby

for a marble

you were the wolf that turned

to shatter the heart of a girl whose

only crime was loving you—

i remember you told me i didn’t have

a temper,

but you should have felt the impact

of a hurricane by now;

i hope every time you’re with her

you’re haunted by the shadows of my name

that the sunsets of my dreams shatters through

yours causing only nightmares

until you can look yourself in the face and see yourself

for what you truly are:

a monster.

 


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
idly
head bent
over the sidewalk
devouring morsels
found in
threadbare pieces
of grass
littering the cement;
foraging
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
watering
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

wolf and raven vii

i burn the flames

turning my face into the

ashes of your words –

no one will remember us when

we’re gone, but no one will

forget us when we’re here;

the wind howls as a wolf,

and claws with the talons of a raven –

bleed into me some reason;

let’s forget the world,

in all its injustices and just kiss me

tenderly beneath the moon.

– linda m. crate

awakening joy

nothing changes here except the day

there is no joy, there is no pain –

only the eroding waves of melancholy

washing in; there is no excitement or

anticipation to be found only a tragic

lullaby that holds this town hostage in

streams of despair and boredom, and

they need a hero to come swinging

a sword of compassion and joy and

hope so that people may remember the

topography of a smile once more and a

song of thanksgiving and remembrance will be

brought forth to slice through any misery.

– linda m. crate


a bitter mistress
time is a fickle thing
sometimes thrusting out her neck stubbornly
taking too long to utter her words
other times she ticks by too quickly
there’s never a happy medium
for she is a cruel queen as is fate
they conspire together against the mortals
with their lover death and his black horse
some day one of them will slay
the other or perhaps they’ll all be slain by one
another as long as I can drink in air
without the fear of those three phantoms intruding.
 
 
like dreamer’s do
dream me a dream worth dreaming
forget me the indifference of the world
hanging pale grey mannequins on the walls –
stain me the scarlet of a sunset sky and
paint splashes of autumn’s golden tears
along with the pastel blue of spring’s skirt;
let us forget the disease of reality
instead embracing the fantasy worlds of
which we’ve always loved, let us melt away
the darkness of the world with words
that create instead of those that destroy –
let us drink the champagne of the sun.
– linda m. crate

summer’s kiss
red leaves dance in the wind
the stained blood of autumn
rolling down her barky legs
a symbol of her innocence lost
by the passionate balm of summer’s
kiss; you fall over me in waves
of her golden reflection chasing
away every lily singing day of fall
that I once knew life my own palm.
– linda m. crate

reality is cruel
dandelion fluff caught in a spider web
the death of a dream snuffed out by
hands of fate that could not be diminished
no matter how tyrannical their reign is –
I wish I could break all the injustices
of the world and make them fair to any
who have tasted an unfair rain to wash
them further into the debt of despair or
anger, but reality is a cruel hearted mistress
that screws everyone over as much as she can
just because no one can stop her from doing so;
one day I hope to vanquish this beast and
make her pay for every wrong she’s made us taste.
– linda m. crate

the ocean’s bride
I was once married to the ocean,
it’s why he tries to pull me closer with each
and every breath; he laps at my heels
trying to remind me that once I was his as if
I need reminding that once his salt poured
into my every wound and burned with his words
sometimes kind yet mostly cruel, it was a
sweet relief when one day he dashed me into his
rocks and I eroded away into sea salt –
he proposed to me again I had the sense to say no,
I would not make the same mistake twice
no matter how charming his eyes be.
– linda m. crate

poetry sucks
poety sucks
when it’s a private joke
between two indiscernible to
anyone else;
when nothing is to be gleaned but
the spleen of someone else’s
amusement the fondness can only be dim
a candle that’s lost its light
or a memory that’s lost its life.
– linda m. crate