Bus in Heaven

If you spot the sun from the bus window,

that large sphere is resolutely yellow.

Repentance and forgiveness now aligned.

The blessed dream here,

while the damned languish elsewhere.

There is no end to the soul.

Eden was once within our grasp,

now paradise comes full circle-

The perfect turn.

The elegance of cold skin

and the scent of myrrh

ripe among us.

We may recover that great garden,

yet again.

Linda Imbler

Thank you to Mark Antony Rossi of Ariel Chart for publishing this poem in the July issue.

https://www.arielchart.com/2020/07/hotel-california-and-everywhere-else.html

Hotel California and Everywhere Else

Hotel California and Everywhere Else



At roadside inns, we check in,

then check out.

We spend tired nights

in these public stockades.

The noise trails off around dawn.

Should we remember to leave 

a trail of pills

to find our way out 

once day breaks?

Thank you to Mark Antony Rossi of Ariel Chart for publishing my poem in the July issue.

https://www.arielchart.com/2020/07/the-civility-of-cavett-we-should-emulate.html










The Civility of Cavett We Should Emulate





A man for all seasons.

He had his own reasons

for speaking candidly,

while searching for truth

along with his choice of guests.

Whether John Lennon, or Billy Graham,

or Chief Dan George, 

Dick Cavett could discuss

ideas without bias,

and plead his own position without malice.




He asked many questions

that had no answers,

but he had no agenda,

except to help each guest shine.

He held high etiquette and civility

as his standard.




He strived to endow us 

with understanding of the world

from different points of view.




With a gentle voice,

this gentle teacher

appreciated humor as irony,

rather than something to broadcast

at someone else’s expense.




Shakespeare told us that

the quality of mercy is not strained.

Thank goodness Dick Cavett

had heeded Portia,

so he could host his show with care. 

Trinity

Angels, bearers of light,

too bright, too bright.

Demons of great beauty

and mysterious allure.

My soul, 

whatever graces and deficits it holds, 

is mine.

Published in Ariel Chart last year.

Flaws

Think only good of me.

Forgive the cruel pangs I caused

by my lack of understanding

that one good word costs

no more than one that’s bad.

Pardon my plans never completed.

I had big dreams at times, but then…..

Excuse all the times I was loopy while waking,

when getting up was like crawling out of quicksand.

Let go of the fact

that sometimes I drank too much,

and when I did,

I used my drunken mouth to reveal secrets.

Overlook the predictably exasperating

part of me that seldom told a story

in a linear fashion.

Absolve me for my part 

in the times I lied, the times I should have lied,

not saying what I should have said either time.

Or,

my own singular condemnation of liars,

shouted in my personal dramatic fashion.

Disregard my worrying

far more than merited.

And finally, 

exempt me from the shame

of not realizing

how truly beautiful you were.

Published in GloMag last year.

Exit 4

At Exit 4,

I sensed something beyond

the edge of lush field and farmland.

He stood in boots 

and denim jeans

wearing a short of woven flannel plaid

that draped fine.

A rangy scarecrow

with golden hair

and the face of a god,

at ease with his fate.

The harvest lay,

full upon the land,

as a consequence

of fruitful and energetic growth.

Later, as the sun dipped low,

his features dimmed

until he was not there at all.

But, I learned from him

the most beautiful things are not seen,

but felt when I dream.

Thank you Glory Sasikala for publishing this poem in the April issue of GloMag.




The Monkees are an American rock and pop band originally active between 1966 and 1971, with reunion albums and tours in the decades that followed. Their original line-up consisted of the American actor/musicians Micky Dolenz, Michael Nesmith, and Peter Tork with English actor/singer Davy Jones.

MONKEE MUSIC

One week,

Micky,

even if it

was for Pete’s Sake.

One week,

Peter,

although Auntie Grizelda

cramped our style.

A pair in the throes of song.

Drums, bass, and organ amplifying the sound.

Round it up to eleven,

then count it down to Zilch.

Davy and Mike picking up the slack,

the diminutive Artful Dodger back on stage

and Papa Nez, the tall Texas songwriter

still penning all manner

of great verse and melody.

The Monkees,

virtuosos defined by their own understatement.