Thank you to Nilavro Nill Shoovro and the editorial team at
Our Poetry Archive (OPA) for publishing three of my poems in the June Issue.

https://ourpoetryarchive.blogspot.com/2020/06/linda-imbler.html

Amid Our Covenant 

To Which We Held Firm

Should the distance of death separate us,

Will you remember what I did right?

Forget my many mistakes we discussed.

Can you render trivial our old slights?

Putting what really mattered out of sight,

From time now on I will do this for you,

Offer unto me the same true delight,

Your promise kept each and every night,

When the truth of your feelings will come to light.

A vow made by you to me yesterday

Amid our covenant to which we held firm,

Sworn oaths whispered from Monday to Monday,

Hearts tested much, not to be disallowed,

Let not that distance separate us now.

Commencement Speaker

I noticed the smile,

the gleaming white enameled teeth,

but quickly shifted attention to the eyes.

Zeroed in on their blink rate and hard focus.

I suspected he was speaking what was expected.

As I studied him,

I watched the shift,

eyes opening wide to reveal a pretense of truth

or eyes squinting shut in some concerted effort.

I could note feigned fervor,

with sadness following,

then recovery,

as he bluffed his affectation.

In this place crowded with others,

I watched his vacant eyes look past them,

off in the distance,

remembering a time

when integrity ruled.

And when there was nothing else to recall,

he let his eyes close against those memories,

reopened them,

feigning no hostility,

only aloofness.

Looking out,

seeing the crowd,

his deception intact.

And as the commencement ended,

I watched his lids softly droop,

his lashes moistened.

Proving to me

the absolute truth of his heart and his mind.

Waiting In The Wings (Gnostics)

I want you to introduce me to Sophia.

Let me travel with her to find knowledge and wisdom.

Lift my soul and carry me to the West on your back.

I want to know the secret of the Aeon,

want to feel the flow from God,

want to break free of physical trappings.

I want to let my divine soul

transcend the material world.

I want to keep the lessons of

Cerinthus and wait for the second coming,

when gnosis descends.

But, in the interim,

I must allow

for my own

personal spiritual knowledge

to present itself to me.

A poem from my paperback book, "Bus Lights, Travel Sights."

Available at Amazon.

The Parthenon Comes To The South

A monolithic vestibule

begins the look inside.

Deeper in, within four walls

stands the attested pageant

of Greek myth.

From across the ocean

and into this landlocked stratosphere,

stands the idea of a powerful home,

an astonishing image.

The attempted story of Athena:

She whose hidden rage

came to bear upon Medusa,

whose adverse glances were the undoing of many.

Athena,

upon whose hand stands 

the never pinioned shrillness of Nike.

Athena,

underneath her feet,

the debilitation of the serpent,

and upon her shield,

a portrait of the languid monster.

Modern seeking peasants strive

to mangle the friendly myth.

Athena,

Supernatural.

All her queenly falsehood apparent,

like a mythological cavern,

stands her fateful replica.

Athena, Golden Goddess,

In America reintroduced,

Deconstructed in Greece,

There her audience has decreased.

Thank you to Glory Sasikala of GloMag for publishing my poem in the May 2020 issue.

https://joom.ag/tslC

Finding Our Awakening

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.

Thank you to Jim Lewis Of Verse-Virtual for publishing my tribute poem today.

http://www.verse-virtual.org/2020/June/linda-imbler-2020-june.html

Denver Hard Rock

This eatery has tables,
surrounded by
all manner of rock minutiae,
hanging up
upon zealous walls eager
to show cool.

Hard Rock walls 
are full of pop culture.
An historical diary,
not written on 2-d paper,
but with 3-d ink as records,
guitars and jackets.

The Fab Four’s “Help” sleigh,
pressed against a wall.

Eating at the Hard Rock,
absorbing riffs and licks,
masticating to the British Invasion
and handling the meal
with heavy metal silverware.

©2020 Linda Imbler

From my paperback book, "Bus Lights, Travel Sights"

Finding Helium As You Travel

Perhaps you think I have floated away 

among all these lusters.

Look for me- 

atop the hills of Kentucky,

with mint green grass 

and vivid, violet patches,

below cobalt skies.

Touch my sun-kissed skin-

while standing beside sepia white sandy shores,

bearing baby powder pebbles,

next to turquoise pearl seas,

below cerulean shamrock waves.

Search for my eyes-

across fields of inchworm olive green,

amid plants of purple pizzaz,

and leaves of screamin’ green,

flowers of cotton candy razzamatazz.

Hear my heart beat-

along the trails found on desert sands,

glowing as mango tango, orange maroon,

neon carrot, middle yellow, or bittersweet.

Hunt for my soul-

Within the regal St.Peter’s Church,

set surreptitiously atop

silver, periwinkle glaciers,

reflecting blizzard blue.

Taste my lips-

at the apex of the mountains,

made of eggplant, umber,

and sun-glow rock.

I sit and wait for you.

Dream’s Garden

Dip beneath the whirring birds.
Accept the shine as polished silver
that scatters the light
like woven sunbeams.
Remember your purpose.
You have your house to build.
Learn all that you are capable of,
and remember that worm becomes butterfly.



SPANISH TRANSLATION


El jardín de los sueños

Sumérgete debajo de los pájaros zumbadores.
Acepta el brillo como plata pulida
que dispersa la luz
como rayos de sol tejidos
Recuerda tu propósito.
Tienes tu casa para construir.
Aprende todo de lo que eres capaz,
y recuerda que el gusano se convierte en mariposa.

Thank you to Editor Mysti Milwee of Sequoyah Cherokee River Journal for publishing three of my poems in her second issue.


https://sequoyahcherokeeriverjournal.wordpress.com/2020/05/20/sequoyah-cherokee-river-journal-2/5/

Amid Our Covenant To Which We Held Firm

Should the distance of death separate us,

Will you remember what I did right?

Forget my many mistakes we discussed.

Can you render trivial our old slights?

Putting what really mattered out of sight,

From time now on I will do this for you,

Offer unto me the same true delight,

Your promise kept each and every night,

When the truth of your feelings will come to light.

A vow made by you to me yesterday

Amid our covenant to which we held firm,

Sworn oaths whispered from Monday to Monday,

Hearts tested much, not to be disallowed,

Let not that distance separate us now.

A Fragile Peace

Hearts of glass, items

like glassblowers create.

New sculptures blown,

bubbles popped, armistice frail, for us.

A fragile peace,

with wineglasses as truce,

and the battle turns quiet.

There’s no more brittle bloodshed,

in faint and thin delicacy.

Pray the flimsy, clear sculpture holds,

and thin skin grows thicker with time

Oracles of Apes

We need stories.

Stories about the world:

To provide insight,

To counsel,

That use lies to tell the truth,

but in the process don’t hurt our hearts,

to dream the improbable.

Stories with characters come to life,

that will perpetuate ideas,

and shape the world.

Books as shrines,

carrying tales

which stand the test of all lifetimes.

And the end of every story

will only happen

when the last one to remember it

takes that last breath.