Thank you to Editor Onkar Sharma for publishing three of my poems today in Literary Yard. 

https://literaryyard.com/2020/12/27/the-most-beautiful-life-and-other-poems-by-linda-imbler/

The Most Beautiful Life

The only thing needed to improve the world:

To read and reread the book of love,
to remember the most beautiful things we do,
and how we do them in the most beautiful way.

Our full potential is to be found
within messages of hope.
Letting loose our hold
on what makes us weep.

If we properly regard all beating hearts,
that in itself will help us remember goodness,
and enjoy the wonder of life-
we’re alive!

Examining the complexities
within the pages of our story.
Let the heavens delight us,
its manifold audience.

The graces extended one to the other.
Every absolute reflected
from the true mirror of the kindest soul,
as precious as the rarest coin.

Mad Business

The mad business of crowds silenced,
every house seems dark at the door.
Folding flames of candles dissolve,
life choices made in full despair.

The latest death knell has been forged,
the slack coils of un-wrung hands.
The whispering midnight nevermore loud,
life choices made in full despair.

Crash of thunder,
gone in a flash,
life choices made in full despair.

Creepy, crawly prohibitions,
mythical calm lips of the patient.
Unskilled senility
grows around life choices
made in full despair.

The Side of the Road

As suffering is a human need,
I had my own cross to bear.
We never strove to avoid narcissism.
Between us,
power was taken, power was given.

Although an angelic facade I would never have,
the wisdom of your betrayal sickened,
wisdom born from late rumor
(to my ears anyway,)
among references made about the disturbing flame
of your newest attachment.
So my curse on you resolved us,
was delivered, blended with tears of self-pity.
Love became those unsupported muscles that atrophied,
shriveled under the challenge
of active forces spoken then in bitter tones.

Today, on the side of the road,
I feel as a prisoner freed, blinking after solitary,
as I step onto the road to join the ranks
of those marching triumphantly,
with redeveloped brawn,
toward their own alleviation of misery.