Fast-Forward 50 Years
High-heeled beauties
laid down the law
with a painted mouth’s command.
Brazilian rosewood shaped the guitar,
its frets freshly set or filed.
Fairy dreams within the beautiful
presence
of black lace and boas mixed
with floppy or boater hats.
Fast-forward 50 years,
heads lacking hats,
a sadder slack,
too many faces lost
by the absence of the holy man.
Guitar strings worn
and all dreams spent.
Ashes, ashes,
we’re all falling down.
Things Restored
Things restored
by treasonous enchantment,
frightening detachment,
faith falls down from the rocks.
Called sincere but mistaken,
bound by a single oath,
measured by a kiss.
Take the dearest person you know by
the hand,
with a growing sentiment discoverable
by reason.
As magnets attract iron
upon the face of heaven,
a place to pass the night,
going forward from that site,
any healing arts,
now let’s go,
dwelling in high towers
to make no replay,
long before the sun rises.
Long Lost Clouds
Distant Eden affected,
forecasting sin original,
aloof message detected,
woefully inadequate.
For creations long admired,
an absorbing interest,
a hasty grave is required.
A varied collection
of forgotten thoughts have perished,
Favourably received,
marvellous deeds cherished.
No more passing of years.
No more serious conflict.
No more cycles of doubt.
No more intimidation through brawn.
No more climatic events.
No more being on equal terms.
No more lacking prestige.
No more cravenly weak style.
No more planned compromise.
A heavy downpour
of a vintage remedy,
blended and spilled.
A temporary expansion
of the discoverable,
from the sky,
returned to the land.
Tired Farewell
Unreliable heroes and enfeebled giants,
bad-blooded sons of kings,
wintergreen scented rogues and
bareheaded fools,
a continuous procession of
vagabonds in pursuit of time,
which has left them in
deferential sobriety.
An overwhelming anomaly
to occur in so short a time.
There’s more than a truce with the
booze.
Alcohol perfumed fervour has cooled.
Wild gestures
from high-strung Bohemians
have been toned down.
Giving signals of spiritual
deliverance.
Preaching the gospel of a new, drier
religion.
Ivy Twined
Interludes of peace amid snatches of
war,
time devoted to proper unity,
merchant ships shattered in great
battles lost,
ballads written of epic grand moments.
Great truths turned like a Rubik’s
cube,
perceive missing pieces,
a scoff, a jeer, ridden by fears,
a more deadly blow, sinking low.
Silent stanzas lay beside choruses of
detonation.
Aired loyalties do little more than
boast,
all good deeds being about stunning
effects,
a perfect form seeds the foundation of
the world,
joyous living grows the wonder of
life.
Silent stanzas lay beside choruses
of detonation.
Lines sharply drawn fade in the zest
of vision,
the year ticks off the close of
adversity’s fight,
a brilliant swell of humility in life,
comes to the place where unsettled
auras rest.
Silent stanzas lay beside choruses
of detonation.
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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