Thursday, August 31, 2017

Published at

Thank you so much!!!

Creating "the bouncy ball man's bi-polar journey"

A friend asked me to write a poem about him.  He lives within the light and dark of bi-polar.  I chose to portray an unflinching view of the cycle, as I understand it.  The poem is written in manic style, that setting aside of the rules, in this case, the rules of writing conventions (capital letters, punctuation.) I believe this aids to the form of the poem.

The bouncy ball man’s bi-polar journey- a poem by Linda Imbler

the bouncy ball man’s bi-polar journey

unlike the yo-yo
with its advantage
of a straight trajectory

he rises
into the heavens
where he dances unabashed with comets
using astroids as castanets
while his castilian boot heels click across the sky
his silky sable hair being blown
by cosmic wins
his head thrown back
as a gleeful song
rises from his throat
the blessed cold and dark
do not bother him

His descent
takes him past us
and as he passes
he laments the fact
that we don't see him
he thinks

in the depths
the pressure is so onerous
like atlas or the turtle
he struggles to hold up
his own world
the cursed heat of pain and sorrow
subjecting him to
merciless vexing light
and unbroken rage
eventually sets him alight
and as he  burns
what comes from his throat
sounds nothing like song
but as does the phoenix
he will rise from the ashes
again transitioning
once again a passerby
in the land of man
he still laments the fact
that we don't see him
he thinks

but this time he wonders

( Linda Imbler is the Kansas based author of “Big Questions, Little Sleep.” )

Wednesday, August 23, 2017

Hi, Linda!

We are happy to inform you that "Diamonds" has been published on BlogNostics. You can link to it here:

We will be publishing "Egg Man" during the month of September. Thanks again for sending us such high quality work. We hope to see more from you soon!

Kind Regards,

Jessica Brant, Editor

Diamonds by Linda Imbler

Diamonds by Linda Imbler
Diamonds by Linda Imbler

They go beyond skin
deep into the ever black recesses
As they dive
Into that mine
The darkness lit
by the intimate lamps of their smiles
The cut of those smiles
formed by soft mouths
The clarity of the love shining from their eyes
The carat
that weight, just right
matching the shape of his muscles
The throaty sound he makes in anticipation
of finding the motherlode
The sparkle and shimmer
illuminated beads of sweat
on their skin
Like diamonds
Sought after and found.
©Linda Imbler 2017

Monday, August 21, 2017

Creating "The Ma'am in the Moon"

How do you continue to inspire as a teacher after you have stopped working as a teacher?  After your Earth life is done?  Just my take on it.

Extract from "The Ma'am in the Moon"

"May I romp on for all time,
Floating joyfully from peak to peak,
Exploring the nethermost depths of each crater,
Polishing rocks as I go,
My smile paramount to the light given off
By this celestial orb of night,
To be seen by the children of all places,

For these are the souls that must be inspired."

Afterthought for "The Ma'am in the Moon"
Ancient Egyptians believed that upon death
they would be asked two questions
and their answers would determine
whether they could continue their journey in the afterlife.
The first question was, "Did you bring joy?"
The second was, "Did you find joy?”

Leo Buscaglia 

Life is a great sunrise.
I do not see why death should not be an even greater one.

Vladimir Nobokov 

Death-- the last sleep? No the final awakening.

Walter Scott 

This poem may be read in its entirety in "Big Questions, Little Sleep"

Friday, August 18, 2017

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.

Thursday, August 17, 2017

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."

Afterthoughts for "Ascension"

To see a world in a grain of sand and heaven in a wild flower Hold infinity in the palms of your hand and eternity in an hour.

William Blake

I existed from all eternity and, behold, I am here; and I shall exist till the end of time, for my being has no end.

Khalil Gibran

Hesitation before birth. If there is a transmigration of souls then I am not yet on the bottom rung. My life is a hesitation before birth.

 Franz Kafka

Creating "Liar"

You always remember that moment when you discover you can no longer trust a particular

person's word.  What follows is thus:


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.

The poet is a liar who always speaks the truth.

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

Creating "If Only"

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

If Only
As Tantalus pleaded,
All only ever out of reach,
So shall I,
For the alchemy of properly positioned syllables,
The perfect mathematical equation of sounds
Whispered out from a broken heart,
That allows me to have
That one last minute again
Before you take your last breath.

As Garbo bid,
From well lit corners of her stage,
So shall I
To get that perfect retake,
The best possible script written,
Delivered in most dramatic fashion
To re-create the final scene,
To assuage my grief
At the stunning irreversibility
Of your death.

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

Creating "If Only"

Why is there never enough time to say it all?

Afterthoughts for "If Only"

We didn't lose the game; we just ran out of time.

Never regret anything you have done with a sincere affection; nothing is lost that is born of the heart.

We crucify ourselves between two thieves: regret for yesterday and fear of tomorrow.

Wednesday, August 9, 2017

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

Thank you, Editor Lisa Jackson-Hase

If Yellow Sang To Me by Linda Imbler

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.

Monday, August 7, 2017

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                                                                     


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.

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

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