A lighthouse glows from ‘cross a common lake,
Petitioning in interceding prayer
For one who thrashes fierce in tempest’s wake,
Endeavoring to gasp a breath of air.

While silently, still waters seek repose,
uneven tides expose their highs and lows.


Marie Elena  (Get well.)



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


“have a little faith” by Mitch Albom

Adam hid in the Garden of Eden.
Jonah jumped a boat and was swallowed
by a whale. Man likes to run
from God. As soon as I could walk,
I started running. The Big Boss;
the Head Rabbi – if I saw Him coming
down the hallway, I ducked down
a corridor. He was tall and I felt tiny
in His presence. I ran until He couldn’t
see me anymore. We had once been closer,
but I hadn’t really been around Him
in twenty-five years. Man likes to run from God.
But I was headed in the other direction.

Not a cento poem poem culled from Mitch Albom’s “have a little faith”.

Written for WE WRITE POEMS Prompt #109 – Finding Pearls




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?



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

MY GOD, MY GOD (A Kyrielle)

an empty tomb the stone rolled away huge and heavy yet rolled away by ...
Sheer loneliness, epitomized
In One so tortured, scorned, despised
When hanging there upon the tree
Cried “Why hast Thou forsaken Me?”

I loathe my sin that held Him there,
And offer up the sinner’s prayer.
Still, shaken, as I hear His plea,
“God, why hast Thou forsaken Me?”

I’ll not forget His sacrifice;
The blood He shed to pay the price;
Nor how He, when estranged from Thee;
Wailed, “Why hast Thou forsaken Me?”

Behold, this selfless, sinless Lamb
Dismissed the power of I AM.
He emptied Himself willingly,
and He has not forsaken me.

Marie Elena

Eternally grateful to my Redeemer.

Photo Source:


Forty pieces of silver has it’s allure.
For sure, it could have bought enough
to feed a few and briefly ease their suffering.
But what you were offering was worth so much more.
I see that now. Too late, too late.
You always talked about your Father’s will,
but nobody asked me what I wanted.
I wanted to stay and finish my meal.
I wanted to die in the oldness of my age.
I wanted you to be my Brother throughout.
And what I’ve found out won’t change things.
Instead, we fought. I abandoned you.
I betrayed you. Sold you for some pocket change.
And in the end, you were beaten and broken.
Without words spoken, our eyes met and
every opportunity for a second chance
died, nailed to that tree. But I did not see.
Not then; not now. Blood money leaves
a nasty stain on beloved hearts.
I would have changed if I could,
but my fate was predicated,
and vermin like me are easily convinced.
In the end, we’re all left hanging.
Does forgiveness come at the end of one’s rope?