As you will soon see, my poetic "boom" was in the spring of 1990, my junior year of high school, when my English teacher, Mr. Charles Leech, was teaching creative writing. I wrote poem after poem, sometimes two and three a day, and most of them were pretty good. I don't know if I would have continued to write them if Mr. Leech hadn't been so supportive of my attempts. So I would like to take this opportunity to thank him for being an inspirational teacher and for leading me in my life's paths of poetry and teaching.

"Mother Earth"

All alone, she sits and waits,
Her children living and dying
In their endless circle of life
While sands in the stellar hourglass
Mark the time she is alone.
Time for her has no meaning
Except pain from war,
Suffering of her poor,
Sadness from her lonely,
And all she can do
Is sit...and wait.

~~C. Lindquist, 1990

Walking along a lonely stretch of highway,
Don't know where I am going nor where I've been,
The road stretches eons before me and behind.
No sign of life except for the occasional breeze
That stirrs the dust into tiny cyclones.
How I got here is beyond me, but
Maybe I'm only dreaming this frightful silence.
I've never been one to be afraid of dreams, but
This one scares me because it's so like me.
I never had any friends because I didn't let them.
I never loved anyone because I didn't let myself.
I never had ambition because I was too weak-minded.
I walked away from those who tried to get close.
This deserted stretch of highway is my life:
Where it goes to, I don't know.

~~C. Lindquist, 1990

What would a poetry corner be without a poem about the coming millenia? If Nostradamus is correct, May 5, 2000 is going to be the date of Armageddon. This would really be infortuitous since that is the date of my 27th birthday, so let's hope that humankind will survive.

"Armageddon"

The death of all beings,
Silence has fallen at last.
The mind is numb, the body cold
From the havoc of the stygian blast.

The bound'ry of Hell flies open,
And souls of the sinners fly free,
Taking the good to make it bad
For all of Hell to see.

Darkness surrounds the world,
The light of the Sun put out.
The Earth becomes the battlefield
For the eternal heavyweight bout.

The Father against the Fallen is
All Armageddon boils down to.
Shall Good override Evil,
Or will Sin take Eden too?

Some shall rise, the rest will fall
Into a pit blacker than pitch...
A demonic jail, the agony comes,
The damned can naught but twitch.

We had our warning, we had our chance,
We knew our time had almost passed,
We ignored the signs, forsook our prayer,
And in ignorance, our destinies were cast.

~~C. Lindquist, 1994

More about love...

"Dream Lover"

A summer evening in the forest
I was drawn to the dew-soaked
Shores of my liquid consciousness--
The night creatures fell silent
And the cloaking mist parted--
An apparition~~the shade of my dreams
Emerged and enfolded me
In fog-shaped arms.
I try to grasp hold~~my fingers
Slide over and through his
Nothingness...his passionate kisses
Are but a breath of wind
Caressing my upturned face.
He fills me with his presence
And incites my very soul to sighs
Of pleasure...that is only found
In dreams.

~~C. Lindquist, 1995

I love acting...even more so in musicals.

"The Production"

Theater is a wonderful tool,
An instrument of fantasy.
In it, one can become someone else,
Much like I have.
Act One begins...love begins to flower:
I lose myself to the part
And become the character.
The production flies by,
Much like time when you're having fun.
Too soon, it is over.
I must face reality again,
At least until tomorrow
When the fantasy begins anew.

~~C. Lindquist, 1990

~~C. Lindquist, 1990

"A Plea for Help"

It's the perfect world, though I'm here all alone.
All my needs are satisfied; a heartbeat close to me
Throbbing steadily, strongly, calmly, reassuringly...

I love you, mama.

Something is wrong; I can sense it.
The heartbeat I rely on
Beating frantically, quickly, weakly, frightening...

I'm scared, mama.

Something foreign invades my perfect world,
Scraping me from my life-source.
I hurt thoroughly, painfully, wrongfully, dying...

Help me mama...

Don't let me die before I'm even born...please?

~~C. Lindquist, 1989

This next poem is, obviously, inspired by the Pink Floyd classic "The Wall"

"The Wall"

I'm not proud of it
Even though I built it myself.
There are no faults, perfectly constructed.
Nothing can get in,
No breaks in my wall.
I receive no emotion.
My face is blank.
No true sight is in my eyes.
I'm not even truly here.
None can get inside
Behind these imagined walls of steel.
But even as nothing can get in,
I cannot get out.
It's my fault.
I built the wall too strongly.
I lost contact with the world.
I lost control of my mind.
I am blank.
I am emotionless.
I don't exist.

~~C. Lindquist, 1990

"Letter of Surrender"

Art thou most elated with thineself now?
Thou has bested me in this final battle.
Ere long, I had sensed this victory,
Thy sweet revenge hast cast me asunder.
I, the last of my noble calling,
Have bid a grudging retreat.
Thy wicked and twisting ways
Hath made me lose honor and her friendship.
My fellow knight-at-arms was beaten,
Though he fought most bravely.
I am now alone, outnumbered.
The method of thy fighting be most dishonorable.
Aye, I leave this field of battle,
And leave to you the spoils of our war
I hath fought for so long to protect and
Hath turned against me so.
Aye, tis mine regret that thou hatest me.
Tis mine folly...and my weakness.
Thou hast stolen what I had left.
Sadness of memory be mine, and
Sweet revenge be thine, but remember:
The sweet turns to bitter if taken too much.
Beware thineself, be on thy guard,
For thy own self be thy greatest enemy.

~~C. Lindquist, 1990

"Flight"

Firmly grounded, my mind lost at sea,
Thoughts of the past colouring the
Grey, cold world an intense
Spectrum of colours, flickering and shifting
So that no hue is left unlit on the
Canvas of winter snows.
I dream while awake,
Dreaming of having the power to
Fly on wings lifted by the salty winds
Of the ocean that separates my mourning heart
From the reason for my mourning.
In my dreams, I confront my fears
And tear them apart with my talons of steel,
Yet joy still eludes my grasping
Fingertips, leading me on to
Destinations unknown far from
Me, from what I know, so I
Continue on in hopes of one day
Catching the answers to my prayers,
Clutching that prism which will make
My life vibrant colour again
Instead of black and white.

~~C. Lindquist, 1995

(Untitled)

It already seems as if ages have passed,
Though I knew the time we had wouldn't last.
The thoughts of you run through my mind
Like sands in an unending glass and keep no time...
Feelings, thoughts, times we shared,
The times I realized how much we cared.
All this fills me with longing sighs
For the union we had that held no lies.
I wish we could have developed together
A deeper companionship that shone brighter and better.
Alas, for perfection in something cannot be sought,
Such high a star cannot be bribed or bought.
Passing years will change us with each tolling bell,
For better, for worse, only time can tell.
I write this in your memory,
For the friendship you did lend to me.
The void inside me will fill as heal I do,
For I have given that part of my soul freely to you.

~~C. Lindquist, 1994

"Ode to a Country Boy"

Your simple ways,
Your lazy days
Draw me into your world...
Wings of freedom unfurled.
The pressures of my city life
Gladly given up to be your wife,
Living near a fertile field,
Watching the land give yeild,
To the essence of the earth.
A fire reflecting our mirth
As we while the night away,
A cocoon of love where we lay.
Speaking with our eyes in silence,
Leaving the world to its violence...
Cozy, safe in your embrace,
Placing soft kisses on your face.
You are my earth, my sky, my sun.
With each passing day, we become one.

~~C. Lindquist, 1993

This poem is dedicated to Richard Fogle, Sarah Llewellyn, and Dianna Rogers, three good friends of mine from years gone by. It is about a night before Rich left for the Army, Dianna moved away, and Sarah got married. I drove Sarah's car (I did this a lot before I got my license), picked up Dianna, then picked up Richard, who was then (and somehow still is now) the object of my unrequited love. I ran a stop sign (he was wearing "Eternity" and I paid more attention to that and not on my driving), accidentally drove around in the slums, and finally went to a nearby park to say our good-byes. This is probably the best poem I have ever written.

"A Night to Remember"

It was a cool summer breeze
That touseled our hair
As we sailed into the star-filled sky
That night near the close of August.
The four of us left our worries behind
And regained our childhood
As we played on the swings
That launched us up like a rocket
Then down to the ground again,
But never quite touching before
Swinging back high into the air.
We each had our own thoughts,
We really didn't talk much.
We just acted like children
And laughed...and sometimes sang.
And as we tired of the swings,
(As children are wont to do)
We sat in a circle on the sand
And listened to the drunken conversation
Of vacuum cleaners and laughed.
Being late as it was,
We all really had to get home
And reassume our real lives,
So we left the park, not looking back
On that night of forgotten memories.
All that was left was the slow-moving swings
Used now only by phantoms of childhood dreams,
A sand snake and a sand shark
Forever pitted against each other
But never close enough to fight
Slowly being worn away back
Into the shapeless sand they were born of,
A distant echo of laughter and song...
And four sets of footprints
Leading off into the night.

~~C. Lindquist, 1990

This poem is dedicated to GypsyElf, arabesque, marionette, and hawk.

"One"

Her L/loves are now Complete,
United in Heart and Soul.
Forever remaining as One,
Tending T/their Garden,
Making It grow in Beauty,
Ever Blooming, Ever Light...
Defending Its Splendour,
Reveling in T/their Joy,
Partaking in T/their Passions,
Always Together in One Home...

Complete at last.

~~C. Lindquist, 1998

"The Fight"

The two young boys stood toe to toe,
Their eyes blazing with the passions of youth
And the fire of hot blood and hotter tempers...
Their fists clenched at their sides,
Knuckles white with fury.

"You better take that back!" one shouted.
"You'll have to make me," the other retorted.
"Oh, I'll make you alright," the first sneered
And shoved the other away.

The indignant boy retaliated,
Charging the other, fists flying...
And so the fight began,
The onlookers cheering on the combatants.

Two fists connected with two eyes,
And both fell to the ground,
Breathless and in pain....

They've been best friends ever since.

~~C. Lindquist, 1994

"Confidence"

We can tell each other anything at all.
Our joys, our downfalls are shared.
We help each other all we can,
And if we can't, we always listen.

I hold you in the highest regard for this.
You keep all my secrets faithfully.
My confidence in myself has risen
Because you were there to confide in.

~~C. Lindquist, 1990

"The Nature of Things"

Here I sit on the bank of my river,
Lying in the grass, hands under my head,
The sky above, a turquois stone,
The ground below, fragrant of ages,
The trees, homes to elves and faeries,
The river so pure and full of life,
Myself, so confused of where I fit
In this scene of royal grandeur.
As I look dreamily at the sky,
As I breathe the fragrance of ages,
As I listen to the wind in the trees,
As I see all that has passed in the river,
I realize I am a part of it all:
The vast expanse of sky,
The earth, root of all beginnings,
The ancient magic of the trees,
The history of the world in the water...
They are a part of me
As I am a part of them
When I sit on the bank of my river.

~~C. Lindquist, 1990