TIME AND TIDE WAITS NOT

Time and tide waits not for any man,
both will come of their own will, not yours.
So, pick your spots and stick to the plan.

Take on challenges the best you can,
and waste not your minutes and hours.
Time and tide waits not for any man.

As seeds that are planted in the sand,
we will wither and die like flowers.
So, pick your spots and stick to the plan.

The time that we borrow comes from His hand
doled out through Celestial powers,
Time and tide waits not for any man,

live your lives and make no demands,
this gift washes down in Loving showers,
So, pick your spots and stick to the plan.

Our fates are held within His hands,
go boldly forward; do not cower,
time and tide waits not for any man,
so, pick your spots and stick to the plan.

(C) Walter J. Wojtanik

dVerse Poets Pub – Meeting the Bar: Villanelle

A VILLANELLE TO THE GIRL IN 312

This is forward of me I know, but I pass you every day
and I have been fascinated by the very thought of you.
It seems there are so many thing I’d like to say.

I noticed that you appear to be all work and no play,
and that’s a shame for one with eyes so blue…
this is forward of me I know. But I pass you every day

and your smile always melts me; you make my blues go away.
I don’t even know what you name is, it’s true,
it seems there are so many things I’d like to say.

There is a sadness to you, and I wish there were something today
that I could do for you that would be nice, you’re long overdue.
This is forward of me I know, but I pass you every day

with nary a word spoken. My vocal cords aren’t broken but hey,
I’d like to extend a hand as friends and buy dinner for two,
it seems there are so many things I’d like to say.

It would be really nice to meet you and court you if I may.
We can talk and laugh and hopefully become friends so true.
This is forward of me I know, but I pass you every day,
it seems there are so many things I’d like to say.

(C) Walter J Wojtanik

dVerse Poets Pub – Meeting the Bar: Villanelle

Another Villanelle here: Time and Tide Waits Not

LAND OF TWO TREES

Tall and thickly rooted,
an “orchard” amidst a garden.
The hardened immigrant toils,
muddied soil his base,
and his face is ruddy and worn.
He had been removed
from the home he knew trans-
planted between two trees
shading his vegetable patch.
An apple tree reaching,
arms raised in prayer beseeching
for a fruitful yield. Across the way
plums, purple and regal.
Leathery hands gripping a hoe,
a “Hokka” he calls it, chopping
and tilling clods of dried sod.
Plans for tomatoes, potatoes,
beets and cucumbers
and a number of other plants.
Bandanna flailing raised to brow
mopping the flop-sweat
under the noon day sun, baking.
A curse in his mother tongue,
chopping against bark to free
the mud held tightly. Releasing
his place of birth for a new home!

(C) Walter J. Wojtanik

Poetic Asides Prompt #397: Land of ________

LAND OF SEUSS

why-fit-in-dr-seuss

If I lived in another land, it would be something Seussian,
then I’d have an excuse again for being so strange.
I could rearrange words as if they were furniture,
and I would yearn for sure to hear the who
what Horton heard. It would be absurd I’m sure if
I could bring Thing 1 and Thing 2
into my crew and eschew (or bally-hoo)
any Lorax attacks that smacks of tom-foolery
and wear my drool like it was drool joolery!
That would be way too cool, you see!
(But that’s just me!) I’d enter every poetry slam
equipped with a pan of green eggs
and ham it up with my eyes quite shut
and a pocketful of wockets
(that sounds more Fuddian than Seussian!)
and I’ll be very amussian in my humor rume!
I would make a wish for just two fish,
one red and one blue (I’ve no need
for two blue! Do you?) I think
what I think and I know
what I know and I’m very familiar
with the places I’ll go.
I’m only old once (or maybe twice
if the weather’s not nice)
and have bunches of hunches
about sneetches with leeches
or foxes with sockes (hidden inside
of brightly wrapped boxes.)
So, say what you want and say what you say,
I’d be luckier by far to live right where I are!

© Walter J Wojtanik

 

…BUT MUGLY GOES STRAIGHT TO THE BONE

They called him Jimmy Mudflap,
the lousy greasy comb over did not flatter him.
But he kept his Capo clean. No spatter
from any gatt got on nary a spat
when Jimmy laid out. He hung
close to the wheels with the motor running.
He was gunning for consigliere,
but would settle for some muscle.
In any tussle, Mudflap had it covered.
He was discovered with tire tread
across his head in the Fine China factory.
Jimmy Mudflap sleeps with the dishes!

(C) Walter J Wojtanik

 

SEEN FROM THE THIRD BASE BLEACHERS

Two young boys caps askew, discussing the finer points of the designated hitter, a wad of Fleer’s between their cheeks, a bat over the shoulder of one, glove in tow. A cleanly stitched Spaulding tightly gripped and the other astride his bike, Mickey Mantle in his spokes. Not a common scene today, a refreshing look; a throw back.

A clear spring evening
memories of youth invade
in mental cascade

(C) Walter J. Wojtanik

ADAM WEST

The news hits like a punch to the jaw.
Pow! Wham! Zowie!
Another icon of my youth has gone.
Adam West was the Batman I knew,
I grew up with his campy depiction.
This benediction keeps him ensconced
in my heart and mind for all time.
Godspeed and rest, Adam West!
Pow! Wham! Zowie! R.I.P.!

(C) Walter J. Wojtanik

Poetic Asides – Prompt #396:  Historic Persona

HORACE GREELEY

“Go West young man, Go West!”
Or so they say I said.
First intoned by John Babsone Lane Soule
in 1851. It’s funny that my quote
mirrored John’s in a sense,
but lets dispense with the mystery.
History will show that I had
paraphrased what Soule had said.
I reiterated in this way in 1865:
“Go West, young man,
and grow up with the country.”
I’m giving Soule credit for that verse
because he said it first!

(C) Walter J. Wojtanik

Poetic Asides Prompt # 396: Historical Persona