UNITED

On the edge of reason, we watched and waited.

We hated being helpless, and I guess

we hated being the target of hate.

Many were functioning as they normally had,

but then every man, woman, mom and dad

had much to explain to minds that could not

comprehend. It had sent a strong message,

that we should be ever-vigilant and can’t

let down our guard. It is hard to preach trust

when the thrust of such extreme proportion

penetrates our collective spirit. They thought

they’d split it in two. It is true that we fight

amongst each other, like any “sister” and “brother”

but let another interfere and we’ll be here united

to fight it tooth and nail. We had stumbled, but did not fail.

May God continue to Bless America!

© – Walter J. Wojtanik – 2012

SHE SLEEPS

She sleeps restlessly. For I can see her from my chair across the room. Legs elevated, laptop computer perched precariously across my knees. I am in pensive thought in an attempt to create new worlds and word plays, but staring at the huddled humanity sprawled out on the couch. Finding comfort in any reclined position comes at great effort. She heals slowly.

But I can hear her snore, the muffled rasp in every labored exhalation. She denies such absurdity. She’s never snored a day in her life. I believe her. It is Janice’s nights that usually have me taking notice. For this afternoon however, she has earned her reward, noisy as it is.

My nights remain sleepless, hopelessly unfulfilled. But it’s no longer killing me. These waking moments hold such promise. Watching her sleep soothes my sensibilities. It is a burden off my chest and maybe my best sleep will come knowing she rests.

So we have come to a complementary understanding. She sleeps in welcomed rest; I breathe a little easier. And I sit, praying for a reversal of form.

EERILY SILENT, ACROSS THE LAKE

Since its inception three years ago, ACROSS THE LAKE, EERILY has been the home for poetic nurturing and witty banter for two wayward poets trying to find their muse. Many words and emotions have been bandied about, many joys and tragedies were shared and in the process, two total strangers have become great friends and poetic compatriots…and they still NEVER have met.

But things change. Situations dictate a re-prioritizing of time and talent. And it is sadly that, MARIE ELENA GOOD and I have decided to discontinue ACROSS THE LAKE, EERILY.
Unfortunately, there were too few hours in the day to accomodate all the projects we have under way. It is time to pursue other adventures.

The joint assembly at POETIC BLOOMINGS will remain intact. This was a bigger labor of love in our poetic minds because it included all of the friends, who like MARIE ELENA and I, have found great comfort and support in each others collective muse. Thus, it was the logical choice to be left untouched.

MARIE will continue to contribute her poetry throughout the blogisphere, advance her Children’s Literature writing and be in a front row seat to watch her little ball of sunshine, Sophie, illuminate the world.

I will also continue my postings at the various site I have adopted as “homes away from home” foisting my poetics and flash fiction on the suspecting public whenever I can. Music is always a great love as is the theater and my desire to complete my musical AND my screenplay (we all have screenplays!) can only benefit from this respite. Collections of poetry are in stages of assembly and my blogs THROUGH THE EYES OF A POET’S HEART and I AM SANTA CLAUS will be keeping me off of the highways. My association at FLASHY FICTION will also be unchanged. I only pray for the time to allow me to live to see it all through. So far, so Good. So, this is not goodbye by a long shot. It’s a “Until we get a chance…”

(However, I will be keeping this sight, renamed EERILY SILENT, ACROSS THE LAKE for the assembly of similar poems and stories in keeping with MARIE and my objective, the influence of this rather special neck of the woods in which we live. Who knows, maybe …)

So, for the time being, this will be the end of a great first step into the world of our own creation. Poetry lives on long after we’ve stopped writing. “Say Goodnight, Gracie!”

 

Walt

 

Goodnight, Gracie.

 

FADE TO BLACK

A scene from a movie screen,
cinemascope and technicolor,
surround sound and dolby
in an Imax theater. Larger
than life. The embraces look
bigger. The exchanges look
bigger. The problems look
bigger. Our hero solves the world
in an hour and forty-seven
ticks of the clock. Stock footage,
A kiss for luck and goodbye,
he lets out a regretful sigh,
and she starts to cry. Other
adventures await and it’s great
we had that time to spend.
But in the end, my horse plods off
into the sunset. A figure in
silhouette. Fade to black…

 

Walt

WHAT I LOVE ABOUT MARIE ELENA

A writer. A comrade. A poet.
A friend and confidant.
Always there with the words I need,
or the support I want.
Star-crossed rhymers, meeting at a time
where neither was sure that poetry would cure
all that ailed our aching hearts,
but finding a nugget of truth
in the gems we penned and shared one April.
A genuine thrill to see she was reading me,
and me she. You see, right out we had doubts
that our muses could fit the bill. And still
we have times where that self-doubt flourishes
and nourishes our retreat from our precious poetry.
But it was she that brought me into focus,
this blooming crocus in Spring’s early journey
into rhymed reason. The right season to bloom.
Soon, we discovered that our commonality lay
in the mass of murkiness that masquerades as
a Great Lake, eerie in it’s coincidence.
In every incident, our stories intertwined,
one mind writing two different points of view.
Between me and you, she saved me as a poet
and a person, pulling as I said, from the gates
of a hellacious place in my life. Battling
a wife, and disease and the loss of a friend so dear,
she was always “here”. With a worded smile,
a comforting haiku hand on my shoulder,
and help lifting all boulders from said same.
In a name, “the best friend I’ve never met”,
you can bet I have been blessed. As you can see,
what’s not to love about our Marie?

Walt

THE CALL

“Dad’s got cancer.”
Words as lifeless as I felt at that moment.
My sister, Daddy’s baby girl, her voice
shaken from its confidence.
And I in exile deteriorating in my own
self-absorbtion, choking on words so harsh.
And words so healing; a feeling of redemption
in my reply. Wiping an eye or two,
and through with my vitriol; back in control
of the emotions so frayed. Four months
were all that were afforded me. It awarded
me a chance to reconcile for the while he had.
Two Walts contrasted; reunited while Dad lasted.

 

Walt

CARRIER

BRANDON

 

Did you sense the man you were

(are)

While across forever far

Terra firma, oceans

(moons)

Unshakable, as danger looms

While I, my son, sensed fear

(untold)

Watching as events unfold

Embedded press on site

(war)

Terror pressed into the fore

Marie Elena

Dedicated to my son, who would vehemently disagree with the sentiment expressed above.  Man?  Not at the time (with which he would agree), but most certainly a man now. 

I love you, Brandon.  I love that your laughter fills the room (the city?).  I love that you encourage loved ones.  I love that you fiercely love family, regardless of shortcomings (and sometimes outright stupidity) on all our parts.  I’m thankful for the man you have become, and are fighting for.

GATHERING (A Sonnet)

Though through the years the setting may have changed

Though some have passed from this life to beyond

May no one feel the sting of heart, estranged

May nothing shake the core of family’s bond.

 

Though seasons ebb and flow, to make life brief

And unapologetically steal health,

May none of us abandon our belief

In strength of kin – as therein lies our wealth.

 

For in God’s providence, He sets our path.

He knows our every thought, our own regrets.

And even though at times we show our wrath,

May we forgive, as Christ forgives our debts.

 

All praise to God for blessings He bestows,

An ever-present help amidst life’s woes.

Marie Elena

“FREEDOM FROM WANT”

Mr. Rockwell

Captured the ultimate

Family Thanksgiving.

Our family.

With you.

One year ago today

My cell rang.

I held my breath,

Fearing yours had ceased.

It had.

No longer free from want,

We achingly yearn

For your smile,

Your laugh,

Your presence.

Thanksgiving Day

Your beautiful daughters

Will light your funeral candle.

Our centerpiece,

Your light.

Thankful loss is not eternal,

Marie Elena

BECOMING MY FATHER

My elbows hurt. Years of swinging
a heavy framing hammer takes its toll.
Just like my father, the first thing to go.
To extol the virtues of hard work
hardly works for one bred and raised
into it. A good fit for a blue-collar guy.
Big plans and ideas; a mental diarrhea
that clouds the here and now. How did
I not see it before? Sure, I’m enough
of my own man to matter, and still
enough of my old man to not care.
Where do I draw the line? It is a fine line
at that, and that begins the tale. The travails
of this life, rife with pitfalls and victories
are visited upon the son; the one most like
the man he aspired to be. My shuffle is
more deliberate. My vision waning.
My voice, still strong on paper dissipates
like vapor when I speak. I seek approval
to verify my insecurities. The purity of
thought and deed in need of a boost. No better
place to roost than in his shoes. These blues
sound better with a strong drumbeat; a sweet
syncopation to drive this transformation homeward.
The signs are tell-tale. The change is nearly complete.
I mailed my registration to AARP today.
All for a six-dollar savings on a safe driving course,
to get me a ten percent discount on insurance rates.
I am becoming my Father. My elbows hurt.

 

Walt