Linda Imbler

Linda Imbler is the author of four poetry collections published at Amazon.  Soma Publishing published two of her poetry books and one poetry-short fiction hybrid.  She began writing in earnest five years ago.  In addition to putting pen and paper to inventive use, Linda is an avid reader. This writer, yoga practitioner, and classical guitar player lives in Wichita, Kansas with her husband, Mike the Luthier, several quite intelligent saltwater fish, and an ever-growing family of gorgeous guitars.  She’s been nominated for a Pushcart Prize and several Best of the Net awards. Learn more at

Tower of Babel Redefined

Know the confusion of voices, know the jumbling,
spoken to you in a daze of uncertainty.
Heed the babel that stands as sound with no tower,
the chaos of speech swaying to and fro.
Know the mix-up of words spoken at odds,
when no words seem to match reality.
Know the vocalizations that spin around
inside your head, looking for a landing.
Know the disconcert of messages never
ceasing, that you strive to understand.
Know the baffled feeling of indecision
when confronted with too many choices.
No need to interpret a foreign language;
they’re only the commands of your own conscience. 

Sad Calypso in Her Watery Realm

The sodden crooning of her siren’s voice
Called many sailors from once sturdy ships.
The outstretched arms of a fair Nereid,
She used during the Grecian period.
She welcomed them and plied them with sweet drink.
She smiled and showed them so much merriment.
This woman who hid within the vast sea,
She was so jealous of Penelope,
And so she plotted, concealed, then deceived.
Hermes was sent with an urgent message
From her father Zeus, the god of the sky.
He said release the man Odysseus
And, daughter, stop being so obsessive.
But what woman has not acted the same,
For a single man one time in her life,
Keeping her hope of love by some design?

The Roller Coaster of Being Human

The taste of eggs and oranges,
cinnamon scented tea,
eating crow,
bitter tears, and soap.
The smell of campfires,
melting snow, and the ocean,
the scent after a light rain on a warm day,
crowded buses,
alcohol on angry breath,
and sulfur fumes.
The sound of favorite radio songs,
friendly dogs, and baseball games,
harsh words spoken between two people,
cracking ice under one’s feet while standing on a pond,
a room being locked from the other side,
a small lie which keeps growing with each repeat.
The sight of a lit front porch,
shadows in front of you on pavement,
the first tooth gap of your child,
the one whom you love,
a huge spider web seen within the gloom,
a strange car in your driveway.
The feel of cool grass under bare feet,
a happy horoscope, and the tickle of your lover’s hair,
when nothing seems true,
seeing a party invitation for your friends, but not you,
a lost ring or plane ticket.
Ups and downs, round and round
shedding tears to appreciate smiles,
our puppet strings pulled this way and that.
It takes both sides to balance the marionette,
and make us into real boys.


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