Poems
by Linda Imbler

 

Harmonious Curing

 

A reverence for music’s art,

joy and sorrow shared in song,

intimate connections in league with

the preaching of cardinal virtues.

 

Breath caught while making confessions,

quoting passages from tenets,

of famous phrases deeply sighed,

a most truly expressive voice.

 

Universal wisdom tale’s told,

unable to forget the great age,

tradition ascribed inside

a remarkable dulcet elixir.

 

 

 

 

 

New Experience

 

Hip,

with a crack of rhythm and blues,

asking have we ever been.

Hands trained by gods,

to command spangled stars.

Our new experience.

 

Spoken voice so soft,

lyrics sung bold as love,

of cherry houses burning,

and watchtowers.

Our new experience.

 

Head and neck

of psychedelic scarves,

paisley weave drapes thin,

hats that wear like gypsies,

a man stylish and kind.

Our new experience.

 

The voodoo lady

weeps with Joe,

we cry with Mary

beside the fire,

after Jimi excuses himself

to kiss the sky.

His new experience.

 

 

 

 

 

The Power Of Arms

 

Grave

dangers

break all ties.

The age of war

proves too mighty for yesterday’s bridges.

 

 

 

 

 

Wanting The Why

 

Thinking it strange, wanting to hide,

but needing to share blood and desire.

 

No disturbing of routine taken on the wing,

brings me to a great line of reasoning.

 

What testimony of truth emerges in the light?

Betrayal can happen whether I love or despise.

 

So I will do neither and never try,

just do what I need to do in life.

 

To get the eventual answer,

speak only in questions

that make the soul stir.

Speak only in answers,

answers that satisfy,

that make the mind whirl.

 

Asking for proof is essential for life,

but are you asking me why?

 

Checking all the same facts twice,

what can be conceived of by the wise.

 

Spend an afterward to change wrong to right,

spiral in the truth and tie it up tight.

 

Doing better’s hard to do while I’m alive,

a rocky road to travel if I’m to survive.

 

Believing in traditional tales once penned.

They must be carried beyond the wind.

 

To get the eventual answer,

speak only in questions

that make the soul stir.

Speak only in answers,

answers that satisfy,

that make the mind whirl.

 

Asking for proof is essential for life,

but are you asking me why?

 

 

 

 

 

Weird Legends

 

Weird legends

about the interests of beasts,

told on behalf of those

who delight in the tragic,

and speak with confidence

of curiosity carried uneasily.

 

Those with a thirst for blood,

walking under the trees

in a place so appointed,

under a shriveled twilight,

where withered grasses stand, 

their various forms

grouped in a meadow, 

forced to yield their roots

as the earth favorably recieves

the burials.

 

Beasts doing what was promised,

to burn in the labyrinth,

where whirring machines of the soul 

scream from within.

 

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