Today, August 18, my poem "Woods" was published in the beautiful GloMag Magazine.  I feel so blessed to be in the literary company of so many talented writers from around the world.

Creating "Ascension"

Ascension is defined as 'the act of rising to an important position or a higher level.'  I could think of no "checkpoint" higher than the one described.




Extract from "Ascension"

"Climb the wall of eternity

With pitons formed from undone deeds,

Backpack filled with words in like manner unspoken,"

This poem was published in my poetry collection "Big Questions, Little Sleep."

Creating "Liar"

You always remember that moment when you discover you can no longer trust a particular
person's word.  What follows is thus:





Liar

Naked now you'll be,

Stripped of all truthfulness,

As Ananias exposed in elder days was,

Protection now most slight,

Then, gambling with veracity,

Once to fool those who knew no better,

Following, the first deception revealed,

Unraveling subsequent falsehoods,

Line them up, parade them,

Display them as your inventions,

They sit apparent, like squatters

Long after being ordered out.

No cover, no cover,

Stark they stay,

Stark you stay,

All eyes now focus

On your every misdemeanor of word.

Afterthoughts for "Liar":

The best liar is he who makes the smallest amount of lying go the longest way.

Samuel Butler

The poet is a liar who always speaks the truth.

Jean Cocteau

The liar's punishment is not in the least that he is not believed, but that he cannot believe anyone else.

George Bernard Shaw

Creating "If Only"

Last words.............regrets................When is enough ever enough?.............Oh, my, that
endless loop.







Extract from "If Only"

"As Tantalus pleaded,

All only ever out of reach,

So shall I,

For the alchemy of properly positioned syllables,"

This poem was published in my poetry collection "Big Questions, Little Sleep."

Creating "If Yellow Sang To Me"

This was a fun write for a couple of reasons.  First, as an avid list maker (I have a kangaroo mind,) I enjoyed brainstorming yellow things.  Secondly, I reveled in the challenge of creating this-the second of two experimental style poems, the other forthcoming in another publication.  My experimental bent is in its infancy, but I am learning to follow my own motto:  "the style fits the poem, not the other way around."

It was published in Zingara Poet: August, 2017

If Yellow Sang To Me by Linda Imbler

Leave a reply

If yellow sang to me of bright sun’s day,
the consonance of corn on the cob served at picnics
sweet cream butter at the side

If yellow sang to me as I watch the march
of lemony taxicabs
transporting frazzled strangers
from airports to who knows where

The rhythm of bouncing saffron school buses conveying our future

A vase of sunflowers painted on canvas, the romantic interpretation
through beautiful hands belonging to Van Gogh,
harvest gold portrayed

Stunning yellow tang, the maestro, swimming amid corals in clear water

A cadence of newly sharpened pencils united with
cobalt legal pads

The aria of a canary’s song

A polyphony-
Bananas to be peeled and sliced
placed atop cereal

If yellow sang to me.

Creating "New Lives"

Worked with Compare and Contrast-intersection-juxtaposition, etc.

I did achieve the effect I wanted.


Extract from "New Lives" 

First published in David Fraser's beautiful blog called Ascent Aspirations: Friday Poems.  The piece can be read in its entirety by going to the blog, clicking Friday's Poems at top left, choosing 2017 poems and then scrolling to February 3rd.  (it's not too far down)



New Lives


A piece of trash                                                         
                                                                        A woman


Thrown out the door                                                 
                                                                        Thrown out of the house

Lies in the street                                                        
                                                                        Walks the streets

By itself                                                                     
                                                                        Alone

Forgotten                                                                   
                                                                        Abandoned

It's original use unremembered.
                                   
                                                                        No longer loved by one who did.






Afterthoughts for "New Lives"

I see when men love women. They give them but a little of their lives. But women when they love give everything.

Oscar Wilde

Yet, taught by time, my heart has learned to glow for other's good, and melt at other's woe.

Homer

Truth is everybody is going to hurt you: you just gotta find the ones worth suffering for.

Bob Marley

Extract from "Oz"