Thank you to Glory Sasikala of GloMag for publishing 'Dread" in the December issue.

https://view.joomag.com/glomag-glomagdecember2019/0321156001577443685?short

Thank you to Jay Faulkner of With Painted Words for publishing my poem.


https://www.withpaintedwords.com/view_submission.php?news_id=1393

The Hunter of Words

I was never a predator

until I discovered the prey of books.

Like the last call at the bar,

I tell myself I must finish

the current chapter

before closing the cover’s door.

My reader’s attitude never grows jaded.

Every re-read of Pinter’s Betrayal

is more bitter than before.

Each revisit to Narnia,

a fresh slice of Heaven’s sweet pastry.

For too soon the pulse of life is stilled,

And while, many say that at worst,

death is a nothingness.

I disagree.

At worst, it’s a place without books.

Frozen Face by Linda Imbler

Thank you to John Patrick Robbins of The Rye Whiskey Review for publishing my poem.

https://ryethewhiskeyreview.blogspot.com/2019/12/frozen-face-by-linda-imbler.html?m=1

Frozen Face by Linda Imbler

To me:
Have you ever considered Botox?

Let me put it this way.
When I was a kid,
my mother used to tell me,
“your face is going to freeze like that!”
Back then,
I figured this was just
sloppy thinking on her part.

But, nowadays,
I realize there is a way
to prove that she knew
what she was talking about.

So, needle me all you want
about my opinion.
On second thought,
I’ll pass on the needles.

Thank you to James Diaz of Anti-Heroin Chic for choosing me as Featured Poet for the Peace, Kindness, and Sensitivity Issue.  I am deeply honored to be part of such a wonderful site.

http://heroinchic.weebly.com/issues.html





Advice One Can Use

What’s one piece of advice I’d offer
a newborn babe?  As you grow  and
as you live, find the joy in all things
and point it out, helping others see
it.  For there is so much
to celebrate in life and your happy
heart tends to rub off on people
who are not you.  The best things about
this approach will be the spreading of bliss.
The snowball effect of such emotion
tends to perpetuate
itself endlessly.  So, smile big, let your
eyes crinkle up grand.

Say thank you,
no matter how small the gesture.
Applaud warmly others’ wins. 
Train your mind to recall words which benefit your neighbor’s heart.
Words that cover all manner of kindness and love.
Think of a Christmas tree with bright green
needles upon which hang all pretty lights.  Now,
imagine the world covered with a lexical
bed of soft needles which do not poke. 

A bed soft enough for a baby.





A Message From Mom

Angels walk on Earth in guise of mortal manifestation.
A painted rock with one word, love,
written on it and placed strategically inside
a zoo rock garden
by a kindly woman.
Found by a recently motherless boy.
His thought,
my mother left this for me.
Through heat of summer
or chill of winter,
children will remind us 
that those who left us leave messages,
if only we act with the eyes and ears
of our early years,
and we look and we listen with the hearts
of the innocent.







The Gifting
​
Forgive your foes and give them grace,
Show them your happy heart with smiles.
Among your friends give them a place.
Forgive your foes and give them grace.
Gift unto them goodwill of face
That they may sit with you awhile.
Forgive your foes and give them grace,Show them your happy heart with smiles.

​

https://thedopefienddaily.blogspot.com

Thank you to John Patrick Robbins at The Dope Fiend Daily 
E-Zine for publishing this poem.

https://thedopefienddaily.blogspot.com

I’ll Carry Your Ghost. By Linda Imbler

I shall open all envelopes of complaint,

accept denunciation

by those passionate

in their stinging rebukes.

I’ll take the blame

for your past actions

having caused the current reproach.

I shall pocket your thirty pieces of silver

because you left me

in command of the purse strings.

My contribution,

however unknown to me at the time,

and however undeserved

demands I must now own your shadow.

You had so many rooms

with tightly locked doors,

but the key is now in my possession.

I’ll wipe down your walls,

and let my mind gather the webs and mold.

We have the blessing or the curse 

of the invisible thread.

I’ll not fight the old,

will work to construct the new,

and, in the process, protect your legacy.

And, when I am done making your excuses,

I will find time to finally make things right.

Thank you to E.S. (Earl) Wynn of Leaves of Ink for publishing my poem today.

http://www.leaves-of-ink.com

Putting Me Together

Monday, December 9, 2019 | Filed under Linda Imbler

People I’ve known,
their faces remembered
only in deepest dreams,
a highway of human automobiles
speeding through my mind

Emotional yo-yos of memories
bounce like balls on a court.
Bringing smiles or tears,
but all have taught me something

The jigsaw puzzle of my life,
pieces falling into place,
and as the last part snaps in,
I will see the complete me,
ready to recall each moment
as something which helped build me.

Thank you to Mark Antony Rossi of Ariel Chart for publishing my poem today.

https://arielchart.blogspot.com/2019/12/a-bluebird-sadly-flown-tribute-to-pop.html

A Bluebird Sadly Flown (A Tribute To a Pop Muse)

Mark Sy PaulDecember 05, 2019

A Bluebird Sadly Flown

(A Tribute To A Pop Muse)

Edie,

Born into a cage.

A bird wearing a feathered veil,

Never pursuing tranquility.

A rolling stone of a woman,

sculptured in art and tailspins.

Publicly body untamed,

A Privately tortured mind,

A break, a collapse,

At times,

Her Cracks displayed to all,

Coming unglued.

All her bluebirds finally came to roost.

Such a shame she never learned

how to land.

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

https://arielchart.blogspot.com/2019/12/a-parade-for-idol.html

A Parade for An Idol

Mark Sy PaulDecember 03, 2019

A Parade for An Idol

Beautiful in his time,

seductive then as now.

His beat we will follow.

His words our motto.

We’ll stay in the parade,

carry his balloons.

I am surprised and honored to have been chosen as Author of the Month for the Setu Bilingual Journal on December 1, 2019.
Thank you so very much.

https://www.setumag.com/2019/11/poetry-linda-imbler.html

Here is one of the four poems featured:

Spectrum Of Mood

Light switch

Happy bright

Pale cold sunset

Behind a curtain of lies

Heavy mind

Hatred’s backbite

Deepest, darkest night

Chant the sun to rise

Mocking sunbeams

Wasted dreams

Writers’ blasphemes

Frozen poets’ screams

Keats is dead

No longer read

Quills’ feathers’ spread

Inky blackness bled

Quiver of the balance

Ramped up talents

Meet mood’s challenge

Drunk from hope’s chalice

Light switch

Happy bright…..

My mother taught me to judge others by the content of their character, just like the Good Reverend.
This is an actual photo of me with my baby doll.

This is a Good Thing

The little white Texas toddler

Bathes her black baby doll

With her mother's help.

She changes the baby’s clothes

By herself,

Bestowing kisses and hugs

On the doll, a gift,

And her mother says

This,

Is a good thing.

The young white six-year-old

Plays with the black girl,

Her same age,

Sharing her toys,

Knowing the other 

Has few,

And her mother says

This,

Is a good thing.

The 13-year-old white girl

And her mother wait,

Standing behind the black man,

Getting a drink

From the same common water fountain,

And her mother says

This,

Is a good thing.

The 18-year-old white college girl

Gets a summer phone call

From her black friend

And classmate, Patsy,

During vacation.

They talk for a long time

With frequent giggles.

Patsy is smart, beautiful

And so very funny,

And her mother says

This,

Is a good thing.

Fifty years on,

I still have the photo.

Of these events,

I still have my memories of them.

And I say

This,

Is a good thing.

Thank you to Marzia Dezzi and the Editorial Staff at Otherwise Engaged: A Literary and Arts Journal for publishing my two poems in their winter issue.

Winter Warriors

I have examined the night sky.

Seen appear the moon, stars, and meteors.

During winter’s freeze,

Orion, lost in Crete, stands tall,

his belt tight, against his waist,

hosting the seven sisters , glowing, - Pleiades, bright.

And to the North we view Perseus, 

holding Medusa’s head.

Taurus, the heavenly bull shines out.

Winter’s warriors,

guarding the sky,

large and luminous.

keeping individual watch within their own stars;

giant hunter, the solid horned one, and the helmed

slayer of myths.

Gathering strength, Earth’s dauntless protectors, 

working as a stellar team.

The Temple At Twilight

The temple at twilight,

soft the evening presses in.

No squeeze, just gentle pressure.

The susurration of the fountain

heard with open ears.

The shimmer of light

from candles’ glow,

seen with open eyes.

That soft embrace felt,

with an open heart,

as a hug given tenderly

by all the angels you can name.

Thank you to Editors Stacia Lynn Reynolds and Nilavro Nill Shoovro of Our Poetry Archive (OPA) for publishing my three poems in the December Issue.

https://ourpoetryarchive.blogspot.com/2019/12/linda-imbler.html

Ada’s Shoes

Ada learned when young

to feel the music of love.

She memorized, when a child,

the sequences and patterns of steps toward forgiveness.

She discovered, as a teen, the connections

made between dancing and dreaming.

She became very adept at both.

She knows how to dance the moment

with angels as partners.

Dancing her own dance

as tap or two-step.

Sharing her dance

as waltz or tango.

Learning the dance of another,

the sways, the paces,

the turns and bends.

She keeps her dance floor large.

No narrow vision, no narrow-mindedness.

She keeps her dance card full

of lots of friends,

and a smile for everyone.

These shoes,

never to be filled by another,

unless one follows the exact path

she followed, to obtain

the best of what the cosmos has to offer.

Middle

Stand right in the middle.

Too much to the left,

Too much to the right,

And they’ll walk past you.

They’ll never hear your words.

You’re unseen.

Uncomfortable drama.

The Lateness Of The Hour

Had I known what to seek as a child,

I would have learned

an extraordinary amount

so much earlier.

I would have applied it

all throughout my life.

Many opportunities passed

to use that knowledge.

But I am not the only one

to fail to harness human thought.

Heed my words as I explain where I went wrong.

We search to find

only those who understand us,

instead of seeking comprehension

of all other things.

If my legacy is told at all,

I wish for it to be thus.