A huge thank you to Editor Amit Parmessur and his team from The Pangolin Review for publishing my Trio of Triolets.

https://thepangolinreview.wixsite.com/mypoetrysite/issue-6-sep-8-2018

Big Questions, Little Sleep

Not plates nor tools nor art from walls 
Would I choose to remember you.
Please just come back and keep it all,
Not plates nor tools nor art from walls. 
Your Will on which your name is scrawled, 
Someone remove it from my view.
Not plates nor tools nor art from walls 
Would I choose to remember you.

Lost and Found

Looking for marks upon the doors. 
Old Herod strove to find one blessed. 
The drowned of Katrina searched for. 
Looking for marks upon the doors. 
Pharoah sought out those he abhorred. 
What tragedy this represents.
Looking for marks upon the doors. 
Old Herod strove to find one blessed.

The Sea’s Secret Song

Forgive your foes and give them grace, 
Show them your happy heart with smiles. 
Among your friends give them a place. 
Forgive your foes and give them grace. 
Gift unto them goodwill of face
That they may sit with you awhile.

Forgive your foes and give them grace, 
Show them your happy heart with smiles.

A big thank you to Editor Mark Antony Rossi for publishing this poem in Ariel Chart.

Incendiary

Barbie dolls and G.I. Joe’s,

Matchbox cars, colorful Legos,

all lost to a house going up in flames.

 

Please don't light the match.

 

She has always taken the blame,

protected the childrens’ lives.

Oh, boy, here’s today’s surprise.

An empty box (ing), no ribbon tied.

I know what's mine.

 

Please don't light the match.

 

He has gaslighted to best effect.

All decisions in his hands.

He criticizes, puts her down.

Her alibis now running dry.

She’s too busy,

there’s so much to do, 

so she can't see you,

must not answer that phone.

 

Please don't light the match.

 

Stay in this house alone,

keep the peace for them.

Too late, she's found that

nerve in her that twangs

after he last harangues.

Being ignored would've been so great.

 

Please don't light the match.

 

Too late, better this way,

hold the kids and watch it catch.

Linda Imbler is the author of the incredible poetry book "The Sea's Secret Song" and can be purchased at http://www.somapublishing.com

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

Quaking

 

While the earth shook, 

they cringed amid the tremors.

Those unnatural shudderings, growling

forth from a place beyond reason

that threatened to kill peace.

Loud bellowing

meant to tremble land.

 

All at once,

the earth gave up her bark,

retreated,

took her quaking to another place.

 

Within their still haven,

now hushed and without quiver,

they exhale tension, 

feel that sense of serenity

as they replace shattered bits of raw nerves

with quiet, unmarred calm.

 

Linda Imbler is the author of the incredible poetry book "The Sea's Secret Song" and can be purchased at http://www.somapublishing.com

A big thank you to Editor Mark Antony Rossi of Ariel Chart for publishing my poem.


http://arielchart.blogspot.com/2018/09/the-last-time-i-played-mother-may-i.html

The Last Time I Played ‘Mother, May I?’

To her, 

all may apply, 

but only the loftiest will be chosen.

A collection, 

if you will,

 

of those whose heads

 

can scrape the bottom

 

of the high seat of judgement 

as they pass underneath. 

I saw the photograph, 

was initially bewildered by the stern face. 

But a chuckle 

became a giggle

 became a guffaw

and irreverence never felt so damned good.

Linda Imbler is the author of the incredible poetry book "The Sea's Secret Song" and can be purchased at http://www.somapublishing.com

Thank you very much to Editor Lanning Russell of Event Horizon for publishing my 5 poems.

https://eventhorizonmagazinecom.files.wordpress.com/2018/09/free-pdf-download-issue-51.pdf

A Street Prayer

I lay this rose
above you.
I leave my prayer
for you.
I ask the angels
to guide you.
I will write
all manner of pen
that those who threaten
your brothers and sisters
will choose
to lay down
their weapons
and take up
the arms of righteousness,
and find valiant deeds
better suited to their days
than blind hatred
of different colored scarves and shirts.

Tilting
He carries oblique remarks upon the canvas of his lips.
He paints them as disordered fact. 
He paints them as distorted fact.

He slants the truth; as reckless as concert crowds
after the last note is played.

To meet the artist as a truthful man has long been my wish.

If art is meant to be beautiful, let it dwell safely in his mouth.

A Groovy Life

I want a groovy life,
one not filled with ransom demands or imaginary slights, 
or plots disguised as needy pleas.

But, one with:
Hope for gifts given freely,
with reciprocity never demanded,
instead, each given according to one’s heart. Music - pure, innocent
lyrics both beautiful
and deep in their meanings.
A seat from which to watch
the loveliness of nature unfold,
early or late in the day,
letting imagination name the colors.

Lastly, time in which to fulfill these desires. 
All I can do is ask.

Gunnar, the Rooster

The boastful braggart
looking for triumph.
Mr. Big Talk preening so loudly, 
singing his own praises,
shooting off his mouth
with swank and swagger.
He gained attention, but lost respect, 
what else did he really expect?

Welcome Mat

I came to see you,
at the place where you stay, 
but you did not talk to me.

If I have done something to upset you, I am sorry.
Or maybe it's because of the six foot distance between us.

The next time I arrive,
perhaps you can greet me,
as a moaning sigh on the wind,
or the howl of a distant dog,
or a fence rattling in the background.

Or even as a flitting butterfly, 
newly escaped from the cocoon.

The next time I arrive,
please, lay out your welcome mat,
and I promise to wipe the sin from my feet 
before we close the gap.

Thank you very much to Editor Kate Garrett for publishing my poem "Madame Lenormand" in Three Drops From A Cauldron.


https://threedropspoetry.co.uk/2018/08/25/three-drops-from-a-cauldron-issue-23/

Madame Lenormand

Madame Lenormand,

netting over her face,

wearing cashmere and lace.

She carries her amber globe,

her Ouija,

and her apothecary jars

of arsenic, hemlock, and belladonna.

All the ingredients for the ‘Widow’s Kiss’,

concocted,

and placed in a poison ring.

Each of three services provided for a price.

Each woman choosing her need

from Madame Lenormand.

THE LINK BELOW WILL TAKE YOU TO A DROPBOX SITE WHERE YOU CAN VIEW A VIDEO CREATED BY TIM SANDERS,  A WONDERFUL MUSICIAN AND PRODUCER.  IT IS A READING OF MY POEM "GUITAR."  THIS POEM HAS BEEN NOMINATED FOR A BEST OF THE NET AWARD FOR 2018 BY THE PANGOLIN REVIEW.

I APPRECIATE YOUR WATCHING IT!



https://www.dropbox.com/s/sbt4ydwe3srdo0z/guitar%20final%20video.mp4?dl=0