Linda

POETRY IS WHAT THE SOULS OF THE ANCIENTS SPEAK TO THOSE STILL SEEKING WHAT IS MOST BEAUTIFUL IN THE WORLD. FROM: LINDA

Monday, March 11, 2024

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

https://www.arielchart.com/2024/03/reconstructed-newsreels.html







Reconstructed Newsreels


 

Your progression of thoughts,

herky-jerky,

like old movie reels played.

A shabby, cramped newsstand,

next to a hosting train station.

Newspapers delivering reports,

using wrecked grammar,

as quickly as flood waters rise.

Not dispatching

the past or the future,

but only what hums right now.

 

A collective desolation,

strange, yet familiar.

You know in your head

the sweet arms of happiness,

or the sparkling beauty

of dew encrusted grass,

as your fellow man intended.

 

Tragedies proclaimed,

about others who struggle

no less than you.

 

Hold your familiars close,

and grow them 

in greater numbers,

and know

that you

can change

each day’s headlines

if you stand

side by side

with all the others

Whose warm hearts 

 do not register controversy.

 


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

https://www.arielchart.com/2024/03/imagination-on-land-and-sea.html





Imagination on Land and Sea

Imagination floats on streams of new questions,

whose shores lie against

lands of soft sounds 

beyond dawn’s song,

where many smiles bring solace.

 

We count each lovely small pool and pond, 

breathe into the noon,

find ourselves upon

a towering hill,

where we call away sadness,

then descend and 

walk along roads where all is well,

through towns full of dark,

but we focus on

streams of stars switched on,

remembering the best of those we love,

and dreaming how to keep them close.

Saturday, March 9, 2024

 







 





























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


https://www.arielchart.com/2024/03/the-fluency-of-unmuffled-words.html







The Fluency of Unmuffled Words


 

Like chrysalism,

that amniotic tranquility felt indoors 

during the eerie tension of a t-storm,

 

ugly words become

muffled words, 

like upstairs arguments, 

or those in a next-door hotel room or apartment

because even white noise is never silent.

 

There are not enough words for

what we really need to communicate to each other,

amid the great profusion of claps

that could potentially break fragile thoughts.

 

Know that as we repaint the air 

with the true colors of tenderness,

we will recover the smooth form of our nerves 

after the release of anxiety,

will rebuild the once waning strength of our angst.

 

And the fluency of our unmuffled words

will help us both

love the beauty and/of the dark.


Tuesday, February 27, 2024

 Thank you very much to the entire editorial staff at Mad Swirl for publishing my poem.

https://madswirl.com/author/limbler/


No More Reversions Into Fear

featured in the poetry forum February 15, 2024

Multi-toned families of Earth,
those who face significant challenges
by compressing anxiety,
heroes of a century
sharing the burden and the load of determination,
Having sufficient means
to possess real power.

Time goes on.
The picture is reversed.
The darkening of skies clears.
The worship of beauty returns.
There is abundant kinship
of the mystically faithful.
Lassitude diminishes.
The pursuit of destruction
dissolves at every turn.

The baffling problem
of curved exits is solved,
and the distinctive ranks of higher ideas
are replenished with experiences
worthy of attention.

Friday, February 9, 2024

 Thank you to Mark Antony Rossi of Ariel Chart for publishing my three poems in the February issue.






The Treasure Chest That Is Key West


 

Duval Street,

along which Papa dragged his

six-toed cats’ water-bowl one drunken night,

to a house with a library and typewriter, 

pecking out memories of mountains, war, and Africa.

 

An open sky with lots of sun,

soft afternoon rains to ease the heat,

and under both a treasure trove 

of things to see, eat, and do.

 

Glass bottomed boats, 

hovering above coral reefs located miles off shore,

leaving room for Captains’ wheels,

parasail harnesses, snorkles and scubas,

all sharing clear waters with giant sea turtles,

beyond sandy beaches, and southernmost tips. 

It’s not crowded here because the sea is so vast.

 

The best Key Lime pie (buy it at the kiosk in the Post Office, believe it or not!)

The My Blue Heaven lunchtime menu,

and other eateries serving yellowfin tuna, or cuban sandwiches.

Don’t forget Pepe’s with a full course Thanksgiving dinner every Thursday.

 

Trolleys, bicycles, motorbikes for travel,

or the joy of walking on just your own two feet

Viewing along the way skeletons dressed in leather in motorcycle shops,

sponges and statues on display,

and numerous densely populated bars full of nautical and seaworthy folk.

 

A daily sundown carnival with cat acrobats, magic,

massages, and stunning sunsets painted into a darkening sky.

 

Evening ghost walks, passing raised crypts in the cemetery,

a strange doll with supposedly malevolent powers,

sure to keep you awake while you ponder leaving the lights on.

 

A place to treasure, a valuable place,

dig deep and uncover all her jewels,

and when you leave her,

let all your memories be your bounty. 










Weights and Measures


 

A larger work,

having greater parts

soon disavowed,

all accounts

condensed

within the text.

The writers’ rules

able to resist

rambling,

penning

derivations,

of near virtual private thoughts,

abridged,

using symbols,

linear,

trying to beg meaning from brevity,

deliberating over copy,

compact language,

phrasing,

power increased,

in vain hopes

only the most succinct is recorded.









We All Love The Dead


 

We all love the dead.

Thats why we go to funerals,

keep them in urns,

attend seances,

send prayers,

write tributes,

talk about them endlessly.

 

To wonderful friends 

who lend a sympathetic, patient ear

in the days following

a loss:

Thank you 

for helping those left behind

compose the poetry of the world.