Red is the Sunrise

Sunday, September 8, 2019

Thank you to The Writer's Magazine for publishing two of my poems in the September Issue.

Here's one of them:

Dennys At Midnight

It seems now so long ago.

Hashing out problems,
and firming up philosophies
over priced right coffee and pancakes until 2:00 a.m.

Learning the art of conversation
from my tribe-
Long ago,

They still walk beside me.
I hear their voices ring and sing
in my memories.

Comfortable silences and smiles
or raucous conversation
disclosing mutual experiences.

Friends gathering in that nocturnal eatery,
lending support,
walking in while others walked out.

Today, I am alone in my thinking.

How I miss one of
America’s best therapy lounges.

How I long for the glue of firm friends
that kept me from falling apart.

How I long.

Monday, September 2, 2019

Thank you, Mark Antony Rossi, for publishing my poem in Ariel Chart.

As I Saw Boulder

Those retro hipster streets, crowded with bohemian images,

abutting the mountains grand, recollecting peace and hippie love.

One New Age store replete with Occult books and Tarot cards 

intended to teach and to guide.

The street musicians’ chattering guitars play folk (Dylan, Baez, Mitchell)

or perhaps the acid rock (Hendrix, Cream, Doors) one era dug.

Another New Age store that sells incense, that spiritual return

to the time when the peace pipe filled the air with smells

of myrrh and burning grass.

Street dancers and magicians with magical movement

to keep the groove alive and remembered.
Thank you, Mark Antony Rossi, of Ariel Chart for publishing my poem.


He carries oblique remarks

upon the canvas of his lips.

He paints them as disordered fact.

He paints them as distorted fact.

He slants the truth; as reckless

as concert crowds

after the last note is played.

To meet the artist as a truthful man

has long been my wish.

If art is meant to be beautiful, 

let it dwell safely in his mouth.
Thank you to Amanda Steel for including three of my poems in the Autumn Issue of Printed Words.

Here is one of them:

Dark Feelings about Daylight
By Linda Imbler

For those people never charmed by dawn-to-dark,
who pull the shutters closed.

These lines are written to channel a declaration.
It’s okay
if the taste of sunlight
is bitter for you
or if you 
can’t find acceptance among the tinny voices.

I’m equally perplexed
about those wildly dependent
on the communion of camaraderie.

Like you,I’m always leaning in the mirror
trying to comprehend why 
summer’s torch is always blinding.
But I think I never will.

Saturday, August 31, 2019

Thank you to Glory Sasikala of GloMag for publishing my poem in the August Issue.

Sunday, August 25, 2019


She steered in the direction of the skid 
Straightened the wheel as she slid 
Having no time to end up in ditches
Just facts travel through her car’s relay switches. 

Years of mishandling truth, causing loss 
A lack of control while she double-crossed 
Now her sinless, clean hands grip the wheel 
Truthful information highway holds appeal. 

There were long deceptive roads with no thoroughfare 
No place to speed away from fraudulence anywhere 
False treacherous roads made it easy to cheat 
Spinning her vicious lies up and down the street. 

She steers in the direction of the slide 
Makes straight when the truth swings wide 
Bad miles fall back, she drives toward the green light 

Exits the old, continues on the path of right. 

The poet (me) intentionally separates the last two lines from the rest of the poem.  This is a social statement.


Put on your dress blues
Stand tall and keep the law.
Put on your olive green
Stand tall and defend.
Put on your white smocks
Stand tall and heal.

Put on what you dug from the trash

Hide your face and feel the scorn.