Poetry Showcase: Linda M. Crate (March 2023)

photo from pixabay (Pheladii)

someone to hear me

i have been alone in crowded rooms,
faked a smile so well no one knew
the sadness that oozed in my veins;
people say that they'd notice their friends
depression don't understand that depression
isn't always cutting wrists, sobbing, or 
the inability to shower—

sometimes it's burying your feelings down so
as not to be a burden to anyone else,
sometimes it's needing constant reassurance
that you're loved because even if you should
know sometimes you just can't;

it is being a good swimmer yet still drowning
because the emotions are too strong to fight off—

with all due respect you don't notice all the
little signs,
i know because once i thought of how pretty it
would be to view the sky from the bottom of a creek
after i jumped off a bridge and no one even knew;

love your loved ones as often as you can and 
over use "i love you" and be there and sometimes
just listen and hear them, because sometimes i don't
need a solution; i just need someone to hear me.


so very bitter

my co-worker and i were 
talking about depression
last night,
and i was telling her how annoyed
i was that some people think suicide victims
are selfish and how that made me angry
because it's not like they're doing
it for attention;
they're in pain and they cannot feel the
love that surrounds them from everyone who
cares for them 
and she agreed with me—

she shared something intensely personal
with me,
and it made me sad;

because so often people say they would notice
if their friends needed help—

but no one seems to notice the little things,
and it is often in whispers and small little noises
that depression speaks;

it is never one thing but a bunch of little things
adding up until the pressure is too much 
to take—

i have been a lot better lately,
and i am grateful because i do love living but
sometimes the hard days are intensely
hard and so very bitter.

more harm than good

my uncle taking his own life made me
realize that i didn't really want to die,
just wanted to carve out all of the negative
things that brought me down;
i just wanted to stop being dragged down by
the dregs of emotions too heavy for me to
carry alone—
because no one really wants to hear that
you're struggling when they ask how you are,
they want you to put on a smile and say that
you're fine even when you aren't;
life can be so difficult and so hard 
i don't know why we should require one another
to wear masks—
emotions aren't weakness,
and i refuse to believe that anyone who wants
the best for me would want me to pretend;
so if i am crying or angry or wounded 
please don't be angry at the display of emotions
because we should all be able to feel everything we 
need to—
bottling everything in always did me more 
harm than good.


survival

i am proud of anyone
who has survived
the darkness
of their own minds

because i know it isn't easy,
and the lies told are easy
to believe in your weakest moments;

sometimes my only reason for survial
was spite so find whatever works
for you and keep going because i promise
you will find magic and beautiful things
again—

survive for all of the sunsets and sunrises,
your favorite meal, your dog or your cat
or pet lizard, survive for the moon dancing
above the creek at night casting a long and 
silver shadow of hope, survive for all the future
yous that you have yet to meet;

because you haven't met all the people who will
love you and all the people that are your tribe—

so if you can do nothing else: survive.

it's so easy not to be the darkness

bullying was the reason
that i wanted to end my life,
i began to believe their 
lies;

i felt worthless and like a burden
to everyone i loved because of them—

& the one time i went to an adult
for help at school,
i was told if i weren't so weird then i
wouldn't be bullied;

maybe if bullying weren't something
considered acceptable in society then 
mental health issues might be a little better—

it costs nothing to give someone 
compassion or kindness,

but everyone is so willing to tear
someone down because of their appearance
or their taste in music or because they
watch anime or because of their hobbies;

in the grand scheme of things none of it matters
because all of our lives are important and touch others—

but depression is a knife of all the unkind
things ever said to you on a repeating loop
until you just want the darkness to stop,
and it's so easy not to be the darkness;

be the light that someone clings to instead.



Bio: Linda M. Crate (she/her) is a Pennsylvanian writer. Her works have been published in numerous magazines and anthologies both online and in print. She is the author of ten poetry chapbooks, the latest being: Hecate's Child (Alien Buddha Publishing, November 2021). She's also the author of the novella Mates (Alien Buddha Publishing, March 2022). She has three micro-poetry collections out:  Heaven Instead (Origami Poems Project, May 2018), moon mother (Origami Poems Project, March 2020.), and & so i believe (Origami Poems Project, April 2021). She has published four full-length poetry collections Vampire Daughter (Dark Gatekeeper Gaming, February 2020), The Sweetest Blood (Cyberwit, February 2020), Mythology of My Bones (Cyberwit, August 2020), and you will not control me (Cyberwit, March 2021).





Poetry from Linda M. Crate : i sit here in obscurity

i sit here in obscurity

goodbyes have always been difficult
for me,
don't really understand the necessity
of closing a door when we're supposed to
be close;

i guess i am the ivy wrapped 
around an abandoned building
wondering why no one ever comes
to visit anymore—

i am the last flower of spring 
to bloom that no one notices because
summer is on it's way,

i am the moon obscured by clouds
that no one notices at night;

but i have so much magic and love and 
laughter and gifts and tenderness and dreams
and mercy to give the world and those
that would take a chance to love me that i cannot
understand why i sit here in obscurity.

Bio: Linda M. Crate (she/her) is a Pennsylvanian writer. Her works have been published in numerous magazines and anthologies both online and in print. She is the author of ten poetry chapbooks, the latest being: Hecate’s Child (Alien Buddha Publishing, November 2021). She’s also the author of the novella Mates (Alien Buddha Publishing, March 2022). She has three micro-poetry collections out:  Heaven Instead (Origami Poems Project, May 2018), moon mother (Origami Poems Project, March 2020.), and & so i believe (Origami Poems Project, April 2021). She has published four full-length poetry collections Vampire Daughter (Dark Gatekeeper Gaming, February 2020), The Sweetest Blood (Cyberwit, February 2020), Mythology of My Bones (Cyberwit, August 2020), and you will not control me (Cyberwit, March 2021).

Re-published poem from Linda M. Crate “have fun dancing with death” – poetry

red and gold mask with black background
Photo by Joshua Coleman (unsplash)

have fun dancing with death

you say, "it's adam and eve
not adam and steve."
but what if it were eve and lilith instead?
i fell in love with a woman once,
and i know you'd disapprove;
but she woke in me the dreaming when
i thought i was dead-
she reminded me that i do matter,
that my dreams are to drive me forward
not to be forgotten in some abandoned place;
she taught me that my scars make me 
beautiful -
she brought forth fires in my soul when there
had only been ashes before,
a faerie singing songs into my heart i
once knew
before you shut me away in that haunted
dark closet;
we were childhood friends but she was
my twin flame
knew me in ways i thought no one ever could -
i loved a woman once,
and i love her still;
i'm not ashamed to admit that now
won't hide in the closet you would nail
me into
skeletons, spiders, and moths make poor companions
as do you -
stop seeking me
you made your choices,
and i've made mine;
have fun dancing with death!
i choose love, i choose light, i choose rainbows

Bio: Linda M. Crate (she/her) is a Pennsylvanian writer. Her works have been published in numerous magazines and anthologies both online and in print. She is the author of ten poetry chapbooks, the latest being: Hecate's Child (Alien Buddha Publishing, November 2021). She's also the author of the novella Mates (Alien Buddha Publishing, March 2022). She has three micro-poetry collections out:  Heaven Instead (Origami Poems Project, May 2018), moon mother (Origami Poems Project, March 2020.), and & so i believe (Origami Poems Project, April 2021). She has published four full-length poetry collections Vampire Daughter (Dark Gatekeeper Gaming, February 2020), The Sweetest Blood (Cyberwit, February 2020), Mythology of My Bones (Cyberwit, August 2020), and you will not control me (Cyberwit, March 2021).

 2 poems by  Linda M. Crate : Once We Were Sisters & All You Gave Me Was Rage  

New poems from Linda M. Crate “all i wanted is to be loved” “i’ve outrgrown you” and more

Poetry Feature for Linda M. Crate from the Anthologies















































2 poems by Linda M. Crate : Once We Were Sisters & All You Gave Me Was Rage

two person walking on ground

photo by Andrea Tummons (Unsplash)

once we were sisters

i remember
when you said
i was your favorite,
now you're no 
longer in my life;
i remember sitting in your
car my hair dancing 
wild in the wind and our laughter
mingling together with sunsets and the stars—
i have always wondered if you think
of me,
because once we were sisters
now we're just ghosts;
i don't understand why we bury the 
living
when we're both still alive—
some people are so okay with letting me go,
but i am never okay with losing people;
always makes me feel as if i have failed
sometimes they say people
aren't forever
but i wonder if they ever tried to hold onto
friendships and love instead of their egos—
some people may be toxic,
but some people are just learning how
to function through their pain;
and in your absence i find that i trust no one
who promises they'll always be there.

all you gave me was rage

you invalidated
my concerns, my 
worries, and my trauma;
but now you're confused
as to why we don't
often speak?
you can read my journal,
and instead of getting some
self-reflection you decided
to punish me for my feelings;
and take things away from me
that gave me joy—
you refused to let me lock my door
when i was angry so i could cool 
down because it was your house,
and you used to yell and belittle me
until i couldn't hold in the tears any longer;
you were never sorry for hurting me
just sorry for the tears that spilled forth
out of me—
never took the time to get to know me
only judged me,
i still get nightmares of you 
as a grown adult because the trauma
runs deep;
i didn't have depression because i stayed inside
a lot—
i had depression because all i wanted was
to be a good daughter,
and you wouldn't even acknowledge me;
you used your authority as a weapon in order 
to demand respect you never gave then got angry
when i refused to cave—
all i needed was love, all you gave me was rage


Bio: Linda M. Crate (she/her) is a Pennsylvanian writer. Her works have been published in numerous magazines and anthologies both online and in print. She is the author of ten poetry chapbooks, the latest being: Hecate's Child (Alien Buddha Publishing, November 2021). She's also the author of the novella Mates (Alien Buddha Publishing, March 2022). She has three micro-poetry collections out:  Heaven Instead (Origami Poems Project, May 2018), moon mother (Origami Poems Project, March 2020.), and & so i believe (Origami Poems Project, April 2021). She has published four full-length poetry collections Vampire Daughter (Dark Gatekeeper Gaming, February 2020), The Sweetest Blood (Cyberwit, February 2020), Mythology of My Bones (Cyberwit, August 2020), and you will not control me (Cyberwit, March 2021).

Poetry Feature for Linda M. Crate from the Anthologies

New poems from Linda M. Crate “all i wanted is to be loved” “i’ve outrgrown you” and more

5 poems by Linda M. Crate

Several new poems by Linda M Crate

New poems from Linda M. Crate “all i wanted is to be loved” “i’ve outgrown you” and more

https://amzn.to/37TKn6G

all i wanted was to be loved

i felt loved
until one day you
decided you didn't like me,
and i don't know why
you just chose to dislike me
one day or what i did wrong;
but you never cared for
me again because you stopped
being nice—
& you were only concerned
with how i made you feel and your feelings,
and you didn't feel bad for any of the
cruel and rude things you said;
unless i couldn't hold back the tears
as i so often did 
because you said i was too sensitive—
everyone says you're a good man,
but you weren't always good to me;
it wasn't always awful until you decided 
to make your pain a weapon and launch it through
my heart—
you refused to let me have any peace
or privacy and all i wanted was a place where
i could thrive and grow,
all i wanted was to be loved;
but instead of getting a father when my mother
married you 
all i received was a monster who wanted to
control me and break my spirit with his wounds.

i've outgrown you

you are kind now
like you were when you
first married my mother,
acting as if you can sweep all
of your crappy past behavior
under the rug just because i'm
an adult and no longer live
in your home;
but i remember all your nastiness
and how you cried once because
my mother wouldn't let you punish me—
you never let me get away with
anything,
never celebrated my accomplishments,
and never went to any of my graduations;
but i see you let my sister get away
with everything,
celebrate her achievements,
and go to all of her graduations
the favoritism is real and real apparent—
flesh and blood means more to you
than your step daughter,
but it's cool;
i've learned to love myself
don't need the father that never loved me
no longer want nor require your validation
like i did when i was a girl
because i've outgrown you.

i don't accept your apology

i don't even remember how
our friendship started
any longer,
but it was probably always
toxic;
didn't realize you were a narcissist
until we were both adults—
for so many years 
i watered dead plants waiting
for you to care about me,
but one day i began to realize
you were using me for your own gain;
didn't care about me except for 
what you could get from me
always tore me down from my dreams
and demanded more of my time—
so i walked away from our
garden of friendship
because i realized i deserved peace,
and i will not feel guilty about it;
don't owe anyone an explanation and if they
ask i will just say we grew apart—
but you were part of the reason i never felt
good enough no matter how hard i tried because
i wanted to be a perfect friend,
and you took me for granted until i left;
but then you wouldn't respect boundaries 
so i blocked you & then you badgered and bothered my family
until even my mother and sister resented you too—
so if you're reading this,
i am not sorry;
and i don't accept your apology.


done poisoning myself

so many years
i felt like 
the snake whose neck
you snapped when you threw him,

and i begged you not to;
i just placed that little garden snake
back in the grass but you had to kill him—

he was just trying to live his best life,
but you couldn't stand the sight of him;

& still i remained your friend

even if in that moment i wanted to throw
you into the sun—

i guess i should've listened to my instincts
because you turned out to be a bad friend
always taking more than you were willing
to give,
never remembering my birthday,
always wanting free books once i started
getting published,
it was always about you even when it was about me;

so i decided one day i was taking my peace back
and making you a part of my past—

i was done poisoning myself with your toxicity.


let people find their happiness

they say
worldly things
don't matter,
but they do;

i still have the last letter
my uncle sent me
before he died and the last gift
he ever got me for christmas—

couldn't fight off his demons,
so he took his own life;
and i miss him

every moody and gray day
i think of him and the shade 
his blue eyes
sometimes shifted to—

don't tell people the things they 
cling to don't matter,
sometimes the weight of the world
is dense;

what you see is trash is a treasure that
holds them together like glue—

unless they're hoarding things they don't use,
what is it to you if someone has a box full
of old letters or too many books spilling over
their bookcase or collect things that remind them
of the people they love or those they miss?

let people find their happiness where they can.


 Bio: Linda M. Crate (she/her) is a Pennsylvanian writer. Her works have been published in numerous magazines and anthologies both online and in print. She is the author of ten poetry chapbooks, the latest being: Hecate's Child (Alien Buddha Publishing, November 2021). She's also the author of the novella Mates (Alien Buddha Publishing, March 2022). She has three micro-poetry collections out:  Heaven Instead (Origami Poems Project, May 2018), moon mother (Origami Poems Project, March 2020.), and & so i believe (Origami Poems Project, April 2021). She has published four full-length poetry collections Vampire Daughter (Dark Gatekeeper Gaming, February 2020), The Sweetest Blood (Cyberwit, February 2020), Mythology of My Bones (Cyberwit, August 2020), and you will not control me (Cyberwit, March 2021).

2 Poems by Linda M. Crate : “Anyone Can Appreciate the Light” & “Until He Was Gone”