Thank you to Steve Cawte for publishing three of my poems in Issue 3 of Impspired.

https://impspired.com/2020/01/28/linda-imbler-2/

Shape Shifter

As if a boy with tripping feet,
I fall out of the day,
and into the nightfall,
where shadows tell me secrets.
Thus,
the diminishing veil
of thought to pen
peaks at invisibility.
 
 An emphatic play of syllables begins.
I see them becoming assembled,
gathered,
the same way I should be collecting butterflies, buttons, or coins.
 
 My once inaccessible pen
now smoothly streams.
My mind will break open
against the blank page,
and I’ll find the words flowing
as rivers do,
to where I write words that heal,
words once hidden in my troubled soul.
 
 And so follows,
the flurried edit,
mad digits write with a beat,
as I shape-shift into the continual writer,
writing to the world.

What Words Mean
Great ideas in a single word,
such as the term ‘honor’ heard.
We seek to find this within,
using all our discipline.
We must adjust self-control,
Keeping courage in our souls.
Renown becomes decency.
Fairness pours forth easily.





Flight
I think of myself
as a bird with twigs to save,
for a nest of memories,
for remembrance of labors well done,
and much sweet music played.
 
I have, at times, been queen of all music,
enjoyed the zoom, the sweep , and the rush
of a soft landing after a rough flight.
I never found time for mocking the fates
at the fading view of day,
but made time instead
for singing life in deep-throated tones.
 
With dearest friends, there was never an end
to what we could talk about and learn,
no terminus to listing ways
in which we could leave the world a better place.
So we stayed patient and waited.
We marveled at how quickly time had elapsed
since the last sunset rolled along.
We hypothesized what might erase all our worlds,
and prognosticated when peace would come again.
 
I’ll recall,
when my final dawn sneaks forward,
the many grades and pitfalls
I stumbled through while remaining upright.
I’ll keep walking in shades of beauty,
seeing the twinkling stars play,
fold my frail wings in supplication,
and never cease to pray.
I’ll survive the stormy blasts
to walk beneath the archway of a rainbow,
delighting that I did not fail.
And get there just in time to the wind-kissed sea,
then fly lightly on my way,
as the dim of my eyes arrives.