Toy Soldiers

My father made them when he was a boy. 

Made them from liquid lead poured into molds. 

My brother and I played with them frequently 

for years as we planned our war strategies and our futures. 

They were as much a part of our childhood 

as any other toys we had. 

How brave they were! 

We used to imagine the lives that they led, 

their names, where they had come from. 

We gave them personalities 

based on the people we'd met or observed. 

So much that we knew about life 

was assigned to those toy soldiers.

Like all good soldiers, 

they sacrificed themselves for our sake, 

as they melted in the house fire of 1979. 

They took our place 

to burn while the rest of us were away. 

I'm glad we saluted them, 

and thanked them for their service 

while we had the chance.

 

 

Had a great 2 hours this afternoon reading some of my poetry and listening to some excellent poetry read by some really super talented poets.  Thank you Glenn Lyvers for another fun opportunity.  See you next month!!

The Write Light

I am the writer of my days, within my room.

In the thinnest rays of light, beginning the task is very difficult,

my pencil dull with lead soft, my strokes wobbly and staggered,

the paper becomes the Master and I am too disabled to even apprentice.

I am tentative and fearful of error, but I race thoughts to sheet,

what nib I have left must do, 

I use shorthand, dabs of words, so very hit or miss.

Some days jagged shards lie atop tear-stained paper,

I struggle to structure all phrases just right,

to rise above near darkness which threatens to leave the page blank,

but I can't decide what to scrawl down to capture the rhythm.

In this deep gloom I feel, but don’t see.

During all strongly lit hours in this hushed room,

my slant’s more upright and sure with bold even strokes from a vigorous hand.

I am wielding a solid, sharp point to match the acuity of my thoughts,

clarity achieved with minimal missteps, my creation completed without stutters or stops,

violent but safe.

What words matter I’m able to find, rationality controlling emotion,

I am comfortable now with emotion taking persuasive centerstage.

Once indistinct passages take prominent form, my message is well defined and clear,

The process can be quick or slow, but it must be true.

Give me the right tools and the write light.

© Imbler, 2019

 

The Just Men

The moon continues, so still.

Even during those fires in the air,

the recently passed hungry, deep conflagrations,

her beams rose and fell 

with the days and the nights.

And in all gardens,

once meek plants and roses

grow where thorns have congregated,

and where honey bees still sing.

And beyond the rivers, cliffs, and tombs,

awakened bones stand tall,

and all just men

walk in mild humility

where lions once roamed.

They meet the beasts at the den,

where once a vale of death was certain.

And, there will be no false starts this time.

©Imbler, 2020

 A big thank you to ILA Magazine for publishing my poem this month.

AT THE VERY EDGE OF COURAGE

​

​

Develop the daring of a lion
and the intrepidity of an adventurer.
Create a reservoir of mettle and pluck.
Increase fortitude as you preserve
through the murkiest dark along
any highway of people.


For who else should you depend on when things collapse?
How will you record your own history,
even as you walk into the present,
still unknown at that moment?
 

Run or be run over?
We must speak of the third option:
stand strong and carry as much as you can,
and lay out your energies for others' sake.


Do all this while attaining your own ideal,
for the worst of humanity does not understand
that one must make a difference in a good way,
and the best are too busy loving others to judge.

 Publication Updates:

"The Fairy and the Frog" is in the illustration process.  Six year old Caroline will work at her pace to get the drawings done, and that works for me!

Spica's Frequency is being put together.  I am deciding on the order for the poems, and continuing to work on my illustrations for the second part of this newest poetry collection.  An early winter release is the goal.

Thank you, Herojit Philem!

Ambrosial Literary Garland | Vol. I | Issue 9 | April 2021

All Roads Lead To Your Enlightenment Linda Imbler

On each road, even the less travelled, intersecting paths exist,
meeting your trail from the left or the right. At these intersections, you might face others 

who can help you gather your thoughts, show you respectable new ways

to roll these new understandings into a cohesive whole. Passersby who may help you develop
more positive thoughts,
experience new reactions.

These roads offer a form of time travel,
to remind you of past success,
complete your awareness of the be-here-now present,
and offer recognizable hope for the future.
Paths, focused in their intent,
that bring clear messages you can carry with you on your journey.