Sunday, November 2, 2014

Linda M. Crate- Three Poems

tired of being misunderstood

i am the girl that no one
an ancient soul in a world
so young;
a glimpse of light in a
dark ethos —
i am the girl that always
and they told me to be quiet
they could not understand
joy flowed through
me like a river;
when i told them i wanted to write
they told me there was no
money it,
but it's what my heart desires
more than anything—
i have no desire
to work retail anymore and i'm
so tired of having to deal
with people
that feel entitled to everything
when the world owes you
so tired of those who are all too
willing to rain down on my
to thrust me down into the
dark for it's the only
thing they've ever


i am the soul
that feels
so deeply
both a blessing and
a curse
in a world that feels
so cold and indifferent
comes in the heartbeat
of happy couples
and gaggles of
and sometimes i wish
i could just fit in;
but why should i when i
was born to stand out?
sometimes i am
very grateful
that i am not the same as all of them
conforming to the heartbeat
of the world
all with the same zombie glances
glazed over faces
unthinking brains that
know nothing
more than small talk and drama;
no, i'm grateful that i am me
different than all of them
vulnerable by their
need of others
incapable of being alone.

a dreamer i will always be

i was always told to pull my head
from the clouds,
but my imagination wanted to
soar and i let it
because i couldn't imagine
only being tethered
to reality;
i've always appreciated art and music
for they give me wings,
and my writing
gives me the voice they always
wish to take away
drown out in the wind so they can tell
me all the things i ought to do—
no one can understand or appreciate me
for who or what i am,
and that used to hurt me but i've
come to expect that now;
i know what they say
that i am strange and weird and different
but is that really the worst thing
in the world i could be?
no, i could be them:
judgment, cruel, always finding fault,
unsympathetic, and unimaginative;
everyone wants me to
settle down and have children
but no one seems to see that i need more than
i need to dream—
they always want to take my dreams away,
but like my dreams i will soar because
like a gypsy i don't well
inside stone walls for they try to inhibit me
all the movement of my wild heart
incapable of being caged.

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