3 poems by Linda Imbler

Linda Imbler is the author of the published poetry collection “Big Questions, Little Sleep.” Her work has appeared in numerous journals. Linda’s creative process and a current, complete listing of sites which have or will publish her work can be found at lindaspoetryblog.blogspot.com. This writer, yoga practitioner, and classical guitar player lives in Wichita, Kansas.






Tall tales
woven around you
that protect.
If you fall the landing will be soft
as each new myth saves
injury like bubble wrap.
All accounts create
your perfect world.
Absolved of all your crimes,
due to scribes in the press.



Last Train

The railroad tracks sound as the rattle of bones.
Do we dare clip-clop over the bones of our kin?
That stretch of track that only the ticketed may ride,
Yellow lanterned men at the sides,


Like Charon with his lamp
Leading us across the Rubicon,

Or a reflection off St. Michael’s sword.

There’s a station up ahead,
We’ll know in a minute.




The whales returned our legacy,
after each had lost at least one child
to the shallow zone,
where the young ones drowned
and internal organs collapsed.

Returned all
that never should have been
scattered deep
on sea beds in the first place:
car engines,
the remains of buckets,
shrimp fishing nets,
Waste, plastic and steel.

They carried all
up from the depths,
and placed upon
our shores our shame
and the evidence
of the greed of our kind.

So, where do we go from here?