Thank you to the mad kings, Johnny and Michael, 

for publishing my poem today.

Late Again

by Linda Imbler  July 14, 2025

I always downplay the importance of the final destination
while walking out the door.

But, if the risks are small and the end result will not be too bad,
I let myself dive into adventures,
diverted by my own timetable of life,
changing the pace of events by bending time to suit myself,
altering plans to chase pleasures to be won.

I’m not a big fan of the virtue of scheduled punctuality.

Upon arriving where I was due a while ago,
I did not receive a good greeting,
I got chewed out.
While enduring the megaphone voice from a corporate face,
my memory floats back to the last place I passed that seemed to call to me.
It really only goes to show,
I could (should) have stopped there also.

editors note: 

Like the wizard, arrive precisely when you mean to. – mh clay

Thank you to Editor Sand Pilarski of Piker Press 

for publishing my poem today.

Worn Around the Edges

By Linda Imbler

Worn Around the Edges

Forming a new league adopted in personal ambition,
you would always put yourself first,
asserting yourself while enhancing vanity.
A crazy scheme, 
being a stern upholder of precision where you are concerned
while fostering your luxury at every turn.
So short sighted,
hanging on,
losing impact,
fulfillment demanded, not satisfied,
a desire to control it all taking its toll.

Article © Linda Imbler. All rights reserved.
Published on 2025-06-30

Thank you to Editor Mark Antony Rossi for

publishing my poem in Ariel Chart.

Cabal

bypublished Ariel Chart•June 24, 2025

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Cabal

 

Buy a round of the steeped drink of crazy, wild hooch

or champagne flutes filled to near the brim.

 

Enjoy merry adventures

where one might imagine crazy patterns.

 

Puff up your mind and follow along.

 

All patrons have an alcoholic neural network that reveals a hidden truth, 

that enters the blood in the veins.

 

But here, let reality come to a halt.

Please, no more real life

in this venue

where barstool people chatter foolishly about all the pretty things,

or the highlights of recent events.

 

Strong drink’s promise that one can follow into the light from darkness, 

letting us hang fire, 

because here,

you can sit back and take your time.

Thank you to Editor Mark Antony Rossi for 

publishing my poem in Ariel Chart.

I Found Religion When I Was Too Old to Sin

bypublished Ariel Chart•June 27, 2025

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  I Found Religion When I Was Too Old To Sin

 

 

I did not foresee my denunciation of sin.

I would always put debauchery and vice first.

I am now at the opposite extreme.

 

Although it happened in small steps,

my new ideology was 

driven by some powerful reasons:

First signs of flagging strength,

while mounting stairs fearing the treachery of the stair tread and risers,

having a limited ability to bend

because of the ever-closing viselike circle of aches and pains,

the irony of trying to listen with deaf ears.

 

Many decades were brought to bear on increasing my power 

to go forward without disillusionment.

It’s easier now to be comfortable with the nature of decisions;

to dance or not, talk or not, begin or not.

I can now reveal the full glory of the world of my own free will,

offering a sympathetic turn where needed,

with equal doses of forgiveness marked for the future,

having dropped what has now become too much to carry,

coming closer to those rivers I never thought I would cross.

 

A relief really.

Embracing my spiritual self

knowing better than to stretch my limits,

learning to define the realm of acceptable.

 

My miserable wandering coming to the end,

while sensing the presence of those waiting for me

where new boundaries exist.

Thank you to Editor Mark Antony Rossi 

for publishing my poem in Ariel Chart.

Indignation About Your Body Politic

bypublished Ariel Chart•June 26, 2025

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 Indignation About Your Body Politic

 

 Empires dissolve as loyalties turn,

kingdoms reduced to drab and joyless,

the vague and soulless

filling any vacant throne.

 

It may be a shock,

but there’s a well-hidden pitfall

that always follows the same pattern,

that of the premeditated snub

after the mold breaks.

It remakes with a changed shape,

and you feel the rebuff

when you are no longer the newest,

the best, the most desired,

when there’s an utter failure 

of your kinsmen to crown you.

 

All your psychological mumblings lack complexity;

they only suggest revolting comparisons,

from the cheap and ordinary to what’s producing the most appeal.

You feel your lofty ambitions surpass the ordinary,

but they only provide dogmatic aggravation

to those with whom you are in contact.     

You, standing alone, now a mere foolish ornament.

 

I hope when we meet again

you will have found a happy way forward.