Thank you Editor, Glenn Lyvers, for publishing my poem "Still the World.  And, thank you for the kind comments concerning the piece.

Note from Editor:
This poem as a very old feel to it, a lot like Elizabeth Barrett Browning's voice I think, the way the lines undulate but keep that sweet pentameter with rounded sounds and gentle thuds on the stops. Nicely done. We have accepted this submission. You will soon receive a more detailed letter from the editor. Congratulations on your acceptance. It did take a little longer to evaluate all the poems for the issue. There were so many strong poems. We appreciate your patience.

https://strengthtobehuman.podbean.com

Thank you to Editor Kate Alsbury for publishing my poem.

https://jalmurra.wordpress.com/2019/01/22/all-those-chairs-in-the-field-by-linda-imbler-bee-in-purple-delight-by-jayne-marek/





Photo Courtesy of Artist Jayne Marek.  Photo titled 
"Bee in Purple Delight."
Thank you, Jayne!

https://chrisricecooper.blogspot.com/2019/01/61-backstory-of-poem-neptunes-choir-by.html

(see Interview link at sidebar)

Neptune’s Choir

There were hundreds of people singing there,

Voices at the shore.

Then the waves came crashing down

So many songsters drowned,

While seagulls lamented overhead,

Articulating above the water’s flow and ebb,

With shrill voices,

The fearful nature of grief.

Thank you to Elizabeth Gibson of Now/Then for publishing my poem.


http://nowthenmagazine.com/manchester/issue-62/word-life/

THE MAGIC BLANKET

Love covers people as a magic blanket.
It falls into place at the right time,
laying over those who have need
of its enchantment and comfort.
All who feel its warmth
transform,
turning from lonely,
isolated,
sad, cold-hearted sleepers
into wakeful witnesses to life’s joy
by virtue of its miraculous touch.

LINDA IMBLER

Thank you to Editor Lanning Russell for including 5 of my poems in Issue 7 of Event Horizon.



https://eventhorizonmagazinecom.files.wordpress.com/2019/01/issue-7-with-covers.pdf


Here are 2 of the poems:

Valor Unimpeded

Keep your personal vision bright.
Overlook bitter words from jealous hearts 
whose envy seeps from them
like blood into cloth.
Stay cheered and maintain a confident essence. 
Let anger at those begrudging you be removed. 
They, tangled within their webs of esurience, 
their torment must be considerable.
Be heartened forever;
for if not for your own intrepidness,
you could be them.

Royal Salvation

A smiling face,
within these silver walls,
the newly crowned Queen, 
steps from her dais,
exits out the flung open egress, 
glides along lily strewn paths, 
and comes to meet her King.

Together they visit gardens filled with reason, 
both antiquated and fresh,
to salvage hope,
a chance for peace,
before the world could go dark.

Thank you to Editor Jeanette Cheezum for publishing two of my poems in Cavalcade of Stars.

https://cavalcadeofstars.wordpress.com

Her Movie Script

Beyond the heavy wooden door,

my grandmother rocks in her chair.

Her eyes are glued to the opposite wall

where the movie of her life plays out.

If only she could remember

the names of the actors.

Mapping Your Dreams

When told you can’t,

that’s when you surely must.

Each obstacle becomes seemingly

easier to mount,

until all things

are within your grasp,

and you triumph

knowing you can overcome

anything you face.

Live with steely resolve.

Once you’re told you can’t,

then you know you can.

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

https://arielchart.blogspot.com/2019/01/ivory-towers.html?m=1

Ivory Towers

This is not my first burial.

I used to pray

while wearing painted clothes.

Now I don only dull sin cloth.

All my favors devoured

within the walls of desecrated ivory towers.

I

not quite elderly,

yet my youth entirely spent.

A mirrored encounter,

my history sung

within the moth-eaten pages of a diary.

Youthful yesterdays bound for discovery

laid out fine and

set on repeat.

Lessons doomed for duplication

throughout all my ages.

For I have yet to absorb

that when all manner of positive things

are finally fulfilled,

all will be returned to me.

Thank you so much to Credo Espoir for publishing "Cousin May" in Issue 3.

https://issuu.com/credoespoir/docs/credoespoir3

Cousin May

I tell St. Peter at the gate,

one of my major regrets is still not atoned.

Now’s the time to make right.

May’s stumble and fall onto the dirt road,

for two children in a car watching through the window,

became banana peel hilarity.

For the adults present and close,

a great cause for concern, of the bloody nose,

staunched by only the greatest effort.

Within a few months, her angel escorts left with her,

never to let her fall again.

She stepped into eternity,

not ever having said an unpleasant word to any,

nor leveling any accusations to them.

Although she did not learn of our transgression,

I must tell her I'm sorry.

This shall be my testimony

to the spiritual evolution of my soul

from one end of my life to the other.

I ask St. Peter at the gate

to please entreat her to come meet me.

Now’s the time to make it right.

Library

Books I’ve read

have brought me many places;

to far off lands,

or just next-door,

another room in the same house.

So many people I have met.

Some I like, some I hate,

some I knew too well,

many I would love to know better.

I've undertaken well-plotted adventures,

felt the throb of a poet’s heart,

solved deep mysteries,

spent time thinking through another's life,

seeing their end and accepting it.

Well placed words, making me laugh, cry, worry, 

fear, champion or scorn.

The best and worst of life laid out

with ebony on ivory.

©Copyright, 2016, Linda Imbler.  All Rights Reserved.

Truth’s Tale

I’ve told tales, of days of old,

Of kings and heroes, strong and bold,

Of goddesses and wicked things,

Fanciful stories of why whales sing,

Of mountains tall and valleys deep,

What makes man smile, what makes man weep,

But the greatest truth I’ve ever told

Was how speaking truth can make one whole.

©Copyright 2015, Linda Imbler.  All Rights reserved.

Thank you to Remington Review for publishing "Soldier."


https://www.flipsnack.com/Remingtonreview/remington-review-winter-2019.html

Soldier

What he saw,

what he did,

indecent and horrific.

He talks about it

in that circular fashion

that avoids facing reality.

That would break him,

so he skirts around

what was required then to do the job.

What else rent him in two,

that conjunction of love for his brothers

and dehumanizing one’s enemies,

in corresponding time and space.

The doing was easy.

He intellectualized the task.

But the aftermath was not cerebral.

Feeling it was so much worse,

yet not having done it

would have been the real atrocity.

The tearing does not mend.

Repellent memories

overshadow knowledge

of crucial guardianship.

He’ll live out

the rest of his days,

not whole.

Thank you to Editor Zafira Zaman of The Conclusion Magazine for publishing three of my poems in Issue Two.

Walking Alongside My Pen

Blue inked pen

My favorite tool.

I, writing thoughts with cool

meanings unlocked,

senseless garbling overruled.

Mood on the upswing,

old versions slipshod,

new directions taken,

my final declaration.

Best grammar roped in,

bad syntax shaken

words skip down the sidewalk

bypassing all mind blocks.

Maybe I’ll write of sin

or the blessings that have been

with me when

all through

my life I’ve done things that caused shock and

I’ve walked all lines, feet unshod.

Thank you to Editor Glory Sasikala for publishing my poem 
in the December issue of GloMag.

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 to Dustin Pickering and E.M. Wise for publishing three of my poems in this amazing
anthology.  The anthology can be purchased at amazon.com.  Here is one of the poems:

Music of the Spheres
Linda Imbler
When you are passionately musical, 
sound can be ecstacy. Life is holy.

Dissonance is a deep, corporeal gash.

Every piece of sheet music is gem-encrusted, 
a potential or attained nirvana.

Sour notes are tooth jangling and cacaphonic, 
and cause your pores to seal.

But the soothe of mellifluous melody
penetrates like God straight into your bones.

Birth in the Sky

I filled a jar with fireflies,

Punched many holes atop for air,

Kissed each one as I placed inside,

The next morning, they were not there.

They’d slipped through the numerous holes,

And risen as pinpoints of light,

Set between celestial poles,

To join others’ sparkling delight.

Now children's folly tinged with love,

Fills the sky from millions of jars,

Beacons of hope hung up above,

Each child's fancy creating stars.

Follow always these well-lit spheres,

They’ll take you where you wish to be,

Transform your path, help to appear,

Your own amazing destiny.