Thank you to David K. Montoya and the editorial staff at The World Of Myth for publishing my poem today.

http://theworldofmyth.com/?fbclid=IwAR1OuMOvCf1bjVPB_X6bsnCRN3reQ8TB3uci-oWQtmzu3UA-EEtZye_X144

Doom and Gloom Upon the Ides

They rendered unto Caesar his dying breath.

Left him without thought, nor eye, nor ear.

You rendered unto me your uncool betrayal.

Left me with neither trust nor peace.

I didn’t hear then that raven’s call, 

the clear warning 

of that dark bird, 

who came as the harbinger of your designs

that snapped my nerves,

laid the weight carried by a Titan’s son

across my chest.

Treachery, deception,

undertaken in that blip of time

that divides the long eternities,

both before and after you.

That now loudly sounding blip I crawl through,

each year on the Ides of March.

Once you send the information to Soma, it is sent to Google.  The book(s) will be automatically uploaded into the Google Play, so you will need to check on Google Play.  Enjoy my book(s)! ❤️

 

 Thank you to Agron Shele of Atunis Galaxy  for publishing 

my two poems today.

https://atunispoetry.com/2020/09/17/poems-by-linda-imbler-usa/

                                                                                    Overlooking The Cliff

The emotional union of land and sea runs deep.

Watch from your height

the early morning fire-mist on the beach

before the sun consents to appear

as a glowing epic.

A constant flood of waves over sand.

A constant sea breeze ruffling hair.

In bright daylight,

over the tricky tor, you’ll spot

fish leaping in a single bound.

They then reverse,

and dive headlong, 

to then rejoin the ocean ceaseless.

If they land wrong they weep,

and all their tribe weeps for them.

Daily, memories sail across

this noble body of water.

And under the waves,

you may imagine 

the attended continuum of life.

As the sun sits and puts up his feet,

the pale-faced moon the twilight brings,

and with it, a different tide.

I see it all,

standing, 

overlooking the cliff.

Life Altering Love

The one truly life-altering thing

that everyone should experience

at least once, is to have someone 

fall in love with them.

Reveling in the huge back-and-forth 

fancy of one to the other.

A completed glimpse 

of the object of one’s affection 

never quite lasting long enough.

The whispering of warm words,

gently echoing,

within the carefully defined universe

both have agreed-upon.

Keeping close with each tender embrace

that gives breath to each tender kiss.

The aspect of modified responses

toward one’s beloved which differs 

from that given to anyone platonic.

A romance based on devotion, trust, and mutual support,

in pallid nighttime, or saturnine midnight.

Love as the discriminating operator 

of every admirer’s heart.

Thank you to Herojit Philem for publishing my two poems in Literary Garland this month.


linda-imbler-lakeside-drive-and-hail-on.html

Lakeside Drive

Part of London has sinned,

at Lakeside Drive.

say some outside of it.

This one street with provincial distinction

in this valuable world.

Inside,

once past the sign, 

resembling carved and engraved bone,

at the entrance,

one can discover that

a lack of reliance on modern technology

will still allow a place

to make great human progress.

Along this wide street,

these residents worship a subroutine,

not of computers, but of a sanctified concord

of declared harmony,

between people, groups, races.

The only apparatus

sustaining their progress,

an expertise of handiness, versatility, respect, and love.

The reversed significance of data processing,

the process of having a pragmatic outlook,

while using both the head and heart.

The denizens on this map

trust no inept theist rabble.

They trust only the preservation

of unchastened optimism,

and the flame of level temperament,

and they balance the optic

as neighbors shaking hand with courtesy.

There’s no fallacious brag about Lakeside Drive.

It simply exists

as a beacon of hope

for a more appropriate now.

Hail On An Old Tin Roof

 I can’t shake 

this prayer recited.

Its song,

its thoughts pound like hail

on an old tin roof.

It becomes a mantra.

I stay awake all night,

for all the thinking,

not even having gray dreams.

Realize,

even hurting,

a poet searches for dreams.

I repeat,

repeat,

repeat

that which I know by heart:

Counting sheep

Listing all the countries of Africa

Reciting poetry.

Static drum rhythm,

hail on an old tin roof.

Thank you to Glory Sasikala at GloMag for publishing my poem today.

FINDING OUR AWAKENING

I pray our solitude

will teach us to listen.

But, the world is so loud,

even now pressed against its own inaction.

We wait to find a hushed rendezvous

in flaming Spring,

hoping there will be no true fail.

And,

we are learning how easy it would be

to end the world.

We are tiring of the long present.

Yet, just when all looks lost,

freedom will open

and be revealed here and there.

We will become glad our bodies could find light

beyond this disease.

And, once we regain all our liberties,

we can drift above the clouds

in this moment of freedom

made by love from heroes.

To sing more,

and talk less,

bringing us all closer to God.

And if we have enjoyed those days of seclusion

in the right way,

we will share memories

20 years from now and beyond,

and do so shamelessly.

https://credoespoir.wordpress.com

LINDA IMBLER'S INSPIRATIONS

Poet Linda Imbler relates the inspirations for her three new poems published in Credo Espoir.

Pure Altruism

“A once lonely old man told me

his old discontent and ruin

had been displaced by something more grand

once he discovered selflessness and benevolence, 

along with true concern for well-being of others.”

This poem expresses the idea that what we send out into the ether comes back to us.  People call this many things: karma (through many religions: Buddhist, Hindu, Jain, etc,) or cause and effect ( Isaac Newton’s third law of motion. This law states that for every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction)  Some just know this as the result of consequences ( that good actions will inevitably have good consequences.)  But, there is a greater good at work, either through religion, science, or simple common sense.  The certainty that doing something for its own sake, without recognition, is a powerful thing, not only for the recipient, but also for the doer. 

I make it a habit of paying the person at the tollbooth additional money when I travel, so that the cost of the travel of the person behind me is lessened.  I have never met anyone in a car following mine, not do I wish for any grand thanks.  I suspect many might pay it forward, but even if they don’t (and I have no idea)  I truly believe I had brightened someone else’s day in some small way.  That is all the thanks I need.  I also make it a habit of saying a small prayer for any persons and family of that person riding in an ambulance, or for firefighters on their way to a fire. Just really small things that I believe will make a difference to someone.

Upon, Above, Among, Under

“Within the woods,

from tall ancients to thin babes,

listen to the soft whisper of leaves trembling on the wind,

or the crunchy fallen ones.”

This is partly a poem about ecology and how we should protect the four elements in our environment with respectful eyes, as well as actions.  It’s also a poem about recognizing where we stand in relation to the cosmos.  It reminds us about heeding our senses and recognizing the beauty of the world within nature.  And, it is a poem about acknowledging that our time here is short and we should make the most of it, and enjoy the bounty of beauty we have been gifted with.  No cautionary tales here. Just a listing of ways in which I have viewed the world and  examples of what is available to others should they choose to examine that which we have received through grace.

When Truth Makes Us Smile

“Let’s help the sun rise,

bringing all honor to shine on the world,”

Words of hope, words of common experience when we fall I love, words of friendship.  Knowing that what we see, hear, touch, and feel inside can be real.  Truth really does make us smile.  When we find truth, we know that our hearts and minds are home and we can take our shoes off, put our feet up on the ottoman, and experience the comfort of contentment.  We no longer quiver with fear or anxiety.  Our lips, almost without knowing it will happen, spread across our face in that friendliest of expressions.  That warm fuzzy feeling in the stomach is not a myth.  Plus, the truth is simple to remember, so it’s easier on the head!

---

Linda Imbler’s poetry collections include five published paperbacks: “Big Questions, Little Sleep,” “Lost and Found,”  “Red Is The Sunrise,” “Bus Lights, Travel Sights,”  and the Second Edition of “Big Questions, Little Sleep.”  Soma Publishing has published her three e-book collections, “The Sea’s Secret Song,”  “Pairings,”which is a a hybrid of short fiction and poetry, and “That Fifth Element.” She is a Pushcart and Best of the Net nominee.  Examples of Linda’s poetry and a listing of publications can be found at lindaspoetryblog.blogspot.com.  In addition to writing, she helps her husband, a Luthier, build acoustic guitars. Linda Imbler believes that poetry has the potential to add to the beauty of the world. We must be strong and fearless in showing humility and kindness.  One thing many fear a lot, but shouldn’t, is being kind and having it seen as a sign of weakness.  It is quite the opposite.

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


https://www.arielchart.com/2020/09/any-rainbows-chromatic-flight.html

Any Rainbow's Chromatic Flight

We watch from within a cafe on a rainy day.

The earlier warm air had spread across a balmy world. 

Now clouds with cold rain gather above,

sunlight goes,

and while what is falling is beautifully hypnotic,

we do not wish to endure

a moldy canvas of land

from too much rain,

or seasickness

from a swelling of the seas,

and the clouds heard our plea

to bathe in the sun.

So Solomon and Aladdin

rode that may colored carpet

across the skies,

and just as the fading water vapor

made it disappear,

that once viewed rainbow produced happiness,

below, 

on a less sodden earth.

 

Poseidon As Percussionist

Poseidon, rising from the depths,

stands tall as percussionist.

He, waving his trident,

and banging the gong

of the hung moon,

in tempo with the last few notes

of tonight’s symphony of the sea.

Thank you to Bear Creek Haiku for publishing my Haiku.


https://bearcreekhaiku.blogspot.com









poet Linda Imbler, Wichita, Kansas...

    sexy midnight

    its shadow covers this land

    Prince wails through speakers.

                  words carried on gentle breeze
          telling all I wish to say
          tales about forgiveness

    say the truth that’s in your heart

    sing it out from between your lips    
    songs never unsung.

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

https://www.arielchart.com/2020/09/at-end-of-world.html

At the End of the World

The crushing knights wore iron fabric,

and sat upon high stallions with clicking lips.

They rode upon torn ships

on a sea of confusion.

They steered their sinking, marbled ferries into oblivion,

this army with no weapons.

They will forever be dead in dreams,

and will convey no more ancient religions.

They left cathedral shells,

spoils of an immense war.

Their absurd heresy,

their breaches recommending funereal forecasts,

now trapped in a web of obscurity.

The ewe withstood the ram,

and the sentient rot

of insurrection and darkness

eventually dissipated.

All that remains is

an intrepid philosopher,

wielding a commonsense impulse, 

standing on an aging banner,

at this,

the end of the world.