Wild moon
A fusion of
the goals of youth, deeply affected,
always too impatient to wait for the
end,
the goals of age, to establish a
dynasty
by way of modest victory,
the aims of the dead ones,
the potent wishes to return home again
and forget what they have undergone.
A symbol avenged,
a lonely hero’s pain,
diminished when the work is done.
All sacred stones,
tumbling down,
carrying a taste for the sensual,
and the memory
of the oldest names ever known.
A caught butterfly,
or unbroken chains hold fast,
offer little distinction.
The universe restructures,
after many delays,
disruptive breath,
a voice departed,
removed from
the natural shape
of a box of former misfortunes,
injuries once found in disguise.
Counterfeited Glory
We should harbour no ill opinion
of poorly chosen heroes,
but need to weigh the significance
of their contributions,
realizing we only know a limited
number
of their secrets,
if any at all,
as they strut,
faking the importance of their
exaggerated astonishing splendour,
striking poses in an attempt to demand
an awe they say should be lasting.
Bestowing our flattery
upon the peacock proud
to whom we impart
vacuous praise.
Keeping our fawning
in steady grand proportions.
Counterfeited glory,
in accordance with their wishes.
Defanged Pain
The most bountiful fount
after a cosey rain,
after the landscape wept.
A weary multitude,
tired but fortunate,
under the sky’s network.
Knowing what to do,
as memories snap into place,
as whims are flung aside.
The staunch upholders
of defanged pain.
Death On The Run
Death should have been more careful
choosing who to take.
The shake, rattle, and roll of my
serpent’s spiral,
uncoiling, laying open my wrath,
like a snake with dragons’ flair.
He can only swim by torch
because the world’s gone dark.
Even the stars withdrew,
when they heard
my never before imagined ear-splitting
hiss.
But it will do him no good.
There’s froth on the sea by such fury,
creating a blistering flow.
He becomes caught in my blaze to be
swept away.
He’ll try to hide behind the thunder.
He’ll try to creep under
the amplified stroke of my lightning.
He’ll pray to be rescued
from my twisting stare.
He sits cowering, trembling,
trying to imagine a place through
which to escape.
He’ll long to discover a new orbit
where I cannot pursue him.
But, I found him anyway.
Because I made huge billows of dark
clouds,
turning them pale like those he made
dead,
and exposing his location.
I clawed fragments of thread
from his stealthy black-cowled robe,
now a torn thing,
melted the straps he put on the
living,
turned his concocted schemes
into a sizzling pan of burnt dreams.
Death has spent his last cold-lipped
kiss.
He’s never coming back.
Fate of the Devil’s Victory
The hideous fruit of
unadorned palaces,
victory’s consequence as ashes strewn.
Squat manors of immense size
that cannot satisfy.
Old and squalid open temples,
once considered all that was desired.
Looming dangers,
hanging over the edge of the abyss.
Who could possible flourish
at the table of those bearing cruelty?
Who could patiently endure
sitting at the knees of those so
strange,
of the horrible, coarse, and
grotesque?
Who could give devotion to
those who foster the true cause of
grief?
A fantasy of imagined bliss,
caught in the hollow of a rock,
in an age-old attempt
to fulfil the myth
that to overcome evil
it will take the most amiable peace.
Linda Imbler is an internationally
published poet, an avid reader, classical guitar player, and a practitioner of
both Yoga and Tai Chi. In, addition, she
helps her husband, a Luthier, build acoustic guitars. She lives in Wichita, Kansas, U.S.A. where
she enjoys her 200-gallon saltwater reef tank wherein resides her 24 year old
yellow tang. Linda’s
poetry collections include eight published paperbacks: Big Questions, Little
Sleep First Edition, Big
Questions, Little Sleep Second
Edition;
Lost and Found; Red Is The Sunrise; Bus Lights; Travel Sight; Spica’s
Frequency; Doubt and Truth; and A Mad Dance. Soma Publishing has published her four e-book
collections, The Sea’s Secret Song; Pairings, a hybrid of short
fiction and poetry; That Fifth Element; and Per Quindecim.
Examples of Linda’s
poetry and a listing of publications can be found at lindaspoetryblog.blogspot.com. Linda has been nominated for a Pushcart Prize
and six Best Of The Nets.
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