Tuesday, December 11, 2012

Linda M. Crate- Three Poems

the folly of pride
white wine swirled in glasses
intoxicated by the flesh of pretty girls
drunk on sin holding onto life without
a hope or dream of something better -
you fell into the snare of the world that
told you that your corruption was fine
and even normal yet that was a lie;
your fruit has rotted on the vine
the waters of your life colder than ice
your heart pierced with woe not entirely
belonging to you, the only one that can
save you is one that you've forsaken
His wisdom and love will give your life
direction, but like a blind man that
doesn't know any better you push away the
goodness that could be yours in full -
once you were a pillar of strength
you stood tall and proud as Sampson
yet one day you fell like the walls of Jericho;
if only you could turn from your
transgressions and shine bright again
as sun star, but instead you choose to
drown in your folly and chains
all you have to do is reach for the
Savior's hand, but you're too proud
instead you'll be consumed by rivers of flames.

remembering me
once you bore your soul before me
I did not know how to respond
for I'd never met someone as blunt
and painfully honest as you were -
lost in the corpse of myself I tried
hard to pull out of the seas of my
own introspection and understand what
exactly it was that you laid before me;
catching my breath I stole upon my 
wings and flew away, but don't worry
my dearest wolf I'll return to you when
I can remember the pieces of my own
fragmented soul scattered by the wind.

your words
your words cut like razors when you pierced me with
them I did not deflect them on my shield for I knew
not that you'd be the one that turned against me;
once you knew the curve of my body and the touch of
my lips yet you refuse to think of me kindly you
regard me with such flaming hatred that I can hardly
stand to breathe, once you were a man of understanding
and peace now you're just a shadow of your former self
turned bitter and stale once your kind heart turned
blacker than the ashes of hell and just as cold as the coldest
winter to unfurl her frigid wings upon the sloping land.

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