A Groovy Life
I want a groovy life,
one not filled with ransom demands or imaginary slights,
or plots disguised as needy pleas.
But, one with:
Hope for gifts given freely,
with reciprocity never demanded,
instead, each given according to one’s heart.
Music – pure, innocent
lyrics both beautiful
and deep in their meanings.
A seat from which to watch
the loveliness of nature unfold,
early or late in the day,
letting imagination name the colors.
Lastly, time in which to fulfill these desires.
All I can do is ask.
© Linda Imbler
Beautifully Broken
I dreamt last night,
but never slept,
unfolding my story
as loose images,
without plot,
without resolution,
trancing along to the blur
of the ceiling fan above me.
The woeful shatter
of my soul,
felt and heard,
above the dissonant void
of this room,
as relevant tears.
I, beautifully broken.
© Linda Imbler
Jim
In the beginning,
he could speak in words and esoteric phrases
that explained all our strange days.
Near the end,
as his world spun sideways,
he no longer feared his visage
reflected from the whiskey bottle.
Finally, he morphed into some demented,
frustrated clown
who claimed his name as its own.
In the final few seconds,
those creatures he spoke of so long ago
took him to the desert
and put him on the blue bus.
This is the end.
© Linda Imbler
Silent Meal
Their relationship did not die
with shouts and tears,
but only from the silence
in response to his talk.
Her new-found love
birthed the deafness
which kept her from hearing
his voice and his still-beating heart.
Perhaps when he’s gone,
she can find a heartbeat app
for that phone that so engaged her
while he sat at the table with her, alone.
© Linda Imbler
Walking the Road On the Cool Side of Infinity
He walks along the rim of the highway,
this man with the Gypsy soul.
He trods the vagabond paths.
He hears his feet slap the pavement.
He feels his fingers tap, tap, tap along the side of his leg.
He responds to an inner song that he alone hears.
All his necessities have been expended
and his wallet feels thin.
But this mobile man doesn’t worry.
There will always be another meal
and another small job in the next town.
Endless time is never his enemy.
What would scare most,
(he calls them the ‘jammed-up’ people) thrills him.
These new pleasures make him feel alive.
They help him find joy in all new, foreign places.
This road, which is long, lean, immeasurable and serpentine is his pal.
The snapping of his fingers matches his footfalls.
There’s too much living to do to sit and contemplate the limited ‘back then.’
So he keeps moving within this expanse
to help him forget that empty house,
that empty bed, and that backyard
with the empty sandbox.
Therefore he rambles on and all is well. Cool!
The new town is in sight!
This transformed wanderer believes it’s time
for the next new adventure.
Bring it on!
© Linda Imbler
