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

https://www.arielchart.com/2022/12/better-late-while-devils-waiting.html

Better Late While the Devil’s Waiting

 

There’s a hole in the ozone

 

He figures that is his best ingress.

His decree was meticulously planned.  

He was seeking vigor,

hoping your heritage would be left behind. 

 

Your faith being strong.

Your occupation is worship.

That gives a better case to be made 

for you to travel on foot - 

away.

 

Sharply pointed grains of sand

bleed your soles.

You meander over rugged topography,

as he begs you to follow his caprice.

 

Answer quickly out of the whirlwind,

or not at all.

And with every resolve,

avoid any lengthy debate.

 

Follow that Messianic voice never lost,

be intrigued by love.

Do not languish here.

The egress leading to salvation is just beyond.

 

So curious is he

about your lack of sycophancy,

he sinks crestfallen into a dark place.

 

Your final stage of escape 

from his command

now well secured.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Thank you to Ariel Chart for publishing this poem.

The Lost Twilight Mind of the Androids From Neptune

Aliens loom past foolish paralysis,

with a complicated neuron network,

and massive brain weight.

They decline the dotted appearance of gaunt birds

as they ride across the skies.

No thermonuclear nitwits these,

they would use a dreary mysticism

to convince us we are intended to serve them.

They grow closer out of nightfall’s musk and gloom.

Dimness becomes half light,

to sunrise,

to vibrant glow as noon shines.

With peculiarly arranged letters of their names,

androids start canvassing, 

asking do we stay or do we go?

We must pinpoint the nexus

that will weave our fates.

Create a rewarding union,

as they campaign against 

an expiring spectrum of isolation from us.

 

Thank you to Ariel Chart for publishing this poem

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THANK YOU TO SAM FARRAR FOR THIS PUBLICATION!

https://www.greeninkpoetry.co.uk/poetry-submissions-all/linda-imbler-lumen?fbclid=IwAR3flUu1OszyL0N94RXwUgBENaeCTy-YQie_F_6aVQfbq4ZQ_SvKbDkhhSI

Linda Imbler: “Lumen”

Collection 13b

Oct 13

Feel the flame in your bones,

a miracle invited,

When seeking light.

learn ancestry without greed.

Study where the voyage takes you.

The simplicity of

your soul will become

celestial bliss.

 

 

Coming soon on e-book from Soma Publishing

 

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

If I Would Have Known

  

If I would have known:

 what deserved attention,

and what was nothing more than

that which didn’t matter.

 that diverse illusions

hung upon 100 columns,

and an outbreak of fancy visions

were ramped up upon the face of many hills.

 that a pretender on a throne

could be abetted by priests

with kindred ambition

and similar creed.

 that the restraints of men

are short-term tasks imposed,

and that there is a hell

that does not last forever.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 Thank you to Mark Antony Rossi for publishing my poem 

in the September issue of Ariel Chart.

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

 

Thank you to The World of Myth Magazine 

for publishing my poem.

 

 Thank you to Strider Marcus Jones for publishing my five poems in Lothlorien Poetry Journal

https://lothlorienpoetryjournal.blogspot.com/2022/07/five-poems-by-linda-imbler.html

We Are

Anxious, fearful, defeated,

we wish not for an overabundance of anguish,

nor an excessive stench of misery.

Some prefer the occasional mood of shadows, 

desire the episodic morbid fears of a lone man,

with lips trapped by no defense 

until the silent come forth.

We hold eloquent reverence for truth,

orderly, dignified, impressive,

but we are imperfect in candor.

We are perfect when we weep.

--------------------------------------------

Learning To Breathe Courageously

Troubles,

waking,

breathing all that’s clear

helps some.

Be careful 

around falling pillars.

Let phantoms remain silent.

May your temples’ walls,

stand unbruised,

as you choose to empty

that land of ruins.

And plant burnished bronzes

among the orchids,

that bees will seduce,

and let all mirrors reflect their own truths.

------------------------------------

Future Numbed

Past midnight’s second, 

a flash of relentless fever,

a broken pill and promise.

A transformed life’s design,

once with a vehement bent-now ineffable,

now grown small,

monotonous.

Gold and silver heartstrings stilled.

This morning, 

a blank horoscope.

-----------------------------------------------------

Fallen

All cooperative confederations tuned to collusion.

The throne’s succession,

waxed and waned power.

The power to cement a legacy,

fading out.

Nothing here now rooted in victory.

Nothing to now invigorate the spirit.

A masterful design torn.

Fading in,

only a certain resemblance

to what scars the land.

A once functioning temple shattered,

fallen like the tower of Mordor.

Complicity secreted behind the veil of the scepter,

now held by dispensable hands.

---------------------------------------------

In The Midnight Of Time

Freezing steel,

feel its depth,

standing upon

a shaky world

that senses less each year.

Gravediggers dig shallower,

and owls hoot more quietly,

and gazelles run slower.

The moon shines more dully,

although with still noticeable grace.

Death is used as a cover,

to excuse our lack of forgiveness,

to make things less strange,

and let flesh rest,

to mend its own seams.

To let lips rest,

from telling stories,

or casting spells.

To allow eyes, 

to focus elsewhere,

to seek ancient lands

where freezing steel is unknown.

And a steadier world prevails.