I've been missing the boat of late, it never fails. When I'm ready to set sail, my muse alludes me. It precludes me from completing poetic thoughts once terrific, posted in prolific parries and thrust onto an "adoring" public. Sometimes words would hang thick screaming for meaning. Sometimes, they would thinly drip saccarine and overtly sweet, replete with emotive jabs of wit. Whatever had gotten writ in these states all come to relate to what churns my inner core. You can be sure I could do better, be a go-getter again. As long as my poetic friend (the one I'm destined to never meet), is there to complete the circle, I will always come around to write, even if it takes me all night. (C) Walter J Wojtanik - 2023
VISIONS
My memory still sees you there
in the shadows,
You are a mirage of my mind,
a kind I know.
It seems I never let you go,
you never leave.
My vision does not fail me.
I see; believe.
So, I hold you in my sad heart.
I’m reminded,
no matter where your heart will be,
I will find it.
© Walter J Wojtanik – 2019
***
ON THE BIRTH OF SOMETHING SO BEAUTIFUL
The bond we’ve made was instant
and permanent, this haggard poet gent
and you, my darling granddaughter.
I sparkle when I am in your light,
a bright beacon in a world in need
of your luminescence. I get the chance
to hold you close. You look intently
as I gently tell you how much you’ve
given in the short time we’ve been together.
Your skin is so soft, mine the coarseness of leather
yet we complement each other sweetly.
Wrapped neatly in a swaddle, you flutter
and coo, you blink and explore, and what’s more
you smile, a contented little lass
(proving it’s not gas), and I melt.
I haven’t felt this joy since your mother
and aunt were born. But on this morn,
it is you, Brooklyn, who has brought beauty
into this tired life. You’ve so much to learn,
and I yearn to teach you all I can. Until then,
I will revel in something so beautiful!
© Walter J Wojtanik – 2019
LOST AND MIRED
I had lost my way. Mired in a jungle of thought, I found myself drifting away from my base – away from my mind’s center. Words, once an ally, have taken umbrage against a senseless ramble I had assumed. There’s no counting for intent, this descent was rapid. I could not stop my fall. When it began, I don’t recall… wrong, maybe I do. I think it started when I presumed people wanted to hear what I had to say. I wrote in a poetic way, a rapid-fire muse that would refuse to rest. It had gotten tired and old. I started to hate the direction I was headed, which was no direction at all. I had lost my way. Mumbling to myself, I found this quote, “You will love again the stranger who was yourself”. I started finding myself by loving who I was.
© Walter J Wojtanik – 2019
LOVE SONG
Find pleasure
in every timely measure.
It’s what every song should bring.
Sing
so sweetly,
express your heart completely.
You can never sing the wrong
song
(C) Walter J Wojtanik – 2019
Poetic Asides Friday Form: Deibide Baise Fri Toin
A GRAND RE-OPENING
She did not come to my doorstep,
there was no notification that she was lacking.
All I knew was that we had performed together
admirably, and we knew we could do it again.
I never met her, this friend,
but I always knew in the end we’d still be a great pair.
Here she was, sweet as a ripe pear,
encouraging and nurturing, a light step
and a sledgehammer heart. A friend
indeed when a friend was lacking.
“I miss the process. Can we try it again?”
she messaged asking if we could still work together.
It surely didn’t take much for me to get her
enthused, for we DID make a great pair.
I have no qualms of firing those synapses again.
A garden themed poetic place where we step
in tune with other like minds, not lacking
the ability to find the words to pose. Widespread friends
who, when the day ends
feel better for the time together.
No heart leaves lacking;
a community beyond compare.
And from that very first step
it felt good to walk the garden again.
What did we think we’d gain
by bringing all these friends
to tread here in lockstep?
It becomes a reunion, coming to gather,
to be inspired, to cajole and share.
But mostly because we also needed the backing
of those who both of our lives were lacking.
So here we are again,
Marie and Walt, a somewhat storied pair,
very acquainted friends
who’ve never spent time together,
reveling in every calculated step.
Reconnecting has put the pep in our step that was lacking,
poetic pals together again,
with all our worldly and wordy friends beyond compare!
© Walter J Wojtanik – 2018
TIME TO TEND
She and a friend she’d never seen
used to tend a garden – serene
and seemingly ceaseless.
Meandering beauty gleaned
from home, and continents afar –
grand cognizance of sand to star,
and all that lay between.
There came a time, what needed tending
sadly meant the swift suspending
of this space the tenders prized –
teemed with blooms that mesmerized.
Sorrow burrowed ‘neath the furrowed fields.
Gone, fresh blossoms. No new yields.
Seasons rose, and seasons fell.
A new day dawned and she, compelled
by want and bond, returned to see
once-planted seeds still bloom, carefree.
Her heart looked east, and there he was,
with tools and seeds and garden gloves.
He glanced, and flashed that knowing grin,
tendered a spade, and said, “Let’s dig in!”
And they both saw that it was fate,
as they unlatched the garden gate.
© Marie Elena Good
SHE LOOKED TO THE EAST
Something she had felt for a long time
suddenly went absent. A void that could not
be filled as easily as she imagined.
She continued to decipher what was lacking.
Her husband was still and perpetually
the man of her dreams. He filled the seams.
Her children remain her pride. They fill her
with joy. Her granddaughters are her heart
and soul. Her parents have left their mark
and continue to influence her every moment
having given her the tools to lead a Good life.
Her Lord and Savior is her life preserver.
He keeps her afloat. So where should she
pilot her boat and find that piece
of the peace she seeks. She peeks to that place
to the East and yearns for a return
to its soothing caress offered by the words
that were less due to her absence as well.
She could tell, it was time.
Her cohort could resort to returning too!
And so they did, eerily comfortable
in the smooth transition to their new position.
Walt
TRIOLET FROM ACROSS THE EERIE BAY
We’d love to meet you too someday,
oh you, best friend we’ve never met.
I’m sure we’ll have a lot to say,
We’d love to meet you too someday.
We could talk of life and our wordplay,
A day we’ll ne’er forget!
We’d love to meet you too someday,
oh you, best friend we’ve never met.
2017 November Chapbook Challenge – Day 6: Praise
Response to you!
IT WAS SUMMER
Pool days, Daze of youth.
To tell the truth I miss that time.
I felt fine; felt alive, running with good friends,
relaxing on the shore late nights by the lake.
Memories take me back. It was summer.
Bare feet or flip-flops, we were non-stop,
under blue skies. We had our fun
where the green grass was emerald,
and the sweet tea was refreshing.
Life was hot! It was summer.
Star gazing as moonflakes shimmer
on the rippling surge of Erie’s offering.
Near the bonfires of passing time,
feeling as if I’m on permanent vacation.
This was my station. It was summer.
Neighbor kids had lemonade stands,
red solo cups filled with sunshine
elixir, a mixture of tart and sweet.
A nice retreat from the heat in the shade,
this day was made for it. It was summer.
Late lightning and thunderstorms,
fireworks of nature’s provision,
star-crossed hearts start each evening
with the hope of true love to coming to call.
All was all right at night! It was summer.
Backyard barbeques, sweet peaches
and watermelon. People sellin’ their stuff
as yard sales pop up along the street.
Mr. Frosty’s ring jingle made you tingle
for ice cream. A young man’s dream. It was summer.
Pool days, daze of youth.
To tell the truth I miss those times,
I felt fine. Mom and Dad were still alive.
Life was perfect despite our flaws,
all for the cause of family. It was summer.
© Walter J. Wojtanik – 2016
Added words: Lake, moonflakes, heat, shade
Written to Poetic Bloomings “An Entertaining Summer” – Day 22: WORDS, WORDS, SUMMER WORDS
Across The Lake, Eerily 