MAYBE I’M AMAZED

I heard it again on the radio.
From long ago, it was our song.
And I heard it yesterday. Is it wrong
to make me think of you, your loving glow.
There’s no pretending my heart would know
and is starting to feel you through this song.
I heard it again.

Why do I marvel when your spirit shows?
When I hear it would I keep love as strong?
Maybe I’m amazed you’re here all along
when I honor you as my words flow?
I heard it again.

© Waltetr J. Wojtanik – 2017

Rondine (Form) as presented by Robert Lee Brewer at Poetic Asides

 

BOOK SALE

booksaleStacks and stacks
of books without racks,
hard covered and paperbacks.

Their conditions are fine
all titled on their spines,
(But none of them are mine.)

Grand adventures to set sail,
grand words without fail,
it looks like they’re all for sale.

There’s romance novels and reference tomes,
historical tales of where the buffalo roam,
some hysterical farce, try taking one home.

Get a book, by hook or by crook,
Get a great deal, come take a look!
It’s a steal, come buy a book!

© Walter J. Wojtanik – 2017

Quickly – Quickly, Simply

NO ONE KNOWS

He has returned to the scene; they always return.
Incognito means ball cap drawn and cheap sunglasses
hiding calculating eyes. He’s cold, duffle bag in tow –
unsure how many heads it would hold, but eager to learn.

Nope, no one knows.

That one is Billy. I assume so because his name is repeated;
his mother’s screech is invasive. Jeans torn at the knees,
he pulls chewing gum from hidden places, saying curse words
to the old man “shushing” in the library. Glue for Lepages.

Nope, no one knows.

She is afraid of the world, a vicious orb and its people,
she cowers below the steeple that towers above the sanctuary.
It is a scary place that she possesses, and she obsesses
over forgotten loves and suitors, a mental computer of regret.

Nope, no one knows.

He stands outside the cemetery gate and waits his call to join her.
His pains are hidden and he has forbidden anyone to mention
her dementia. He will not answer questions about his cancer.
He merely waits. He is not a miscreant or transient. He is only lonely.

Nope, no one knows.

The shelter is busy tonight. No one delights in their predicament.
Meals offered while they last and a fast respite from their despair.
They go there for warmth. They come seeking comfort,
neither a lasting gift, just a momentary lift from their sad existence.

Nope, no one knows.

Just an observer, that’s all I’ve become. In the doorway shadow,
out of the downpour. Tabulating cars/buses; trusses on the “El”;
going to hell for my misguided thoughts. I ought to get work. Just a jerk
feeling a draft below, not knowing my fly’s undone. I’m cold too!

Nope, no one knows.

© Walter J. Wojtanik – 2017

Poetic Asides Prompt #384 : Nope

HEARTS AT SEA

Two hearts afloat upon love’s endless sea,
bobbing free in currents of emotion.
There is no lake or ocean can compare
to the freedom there. Two hearts float in love.

Above is an endless sky full of stars.
Hearts navigate by their chart position,
a condition driven by the love shared.
They are spared rough tides; they ride the current.

The rough torrent cannot put them under,
it’s a wonder love keeps their heads above
water. They ought to thank their lucky stars,
they are adrift uplifting each other.

Hearts at sea are free to be. Their journey
can lead them to distant shores and much more!

(C) Walter J Wojtanik – 2017

PRAYERS FOR THE FALLEN

tribute

Prayers for the fallen soldiers,
men and women who had dared
and had dreamed
and bled,
and were left for dead.
(They) Faced the fire of hell
in every battle and storm.
(They) Carved their fingernails into stone
and opened the doors of  freedom,
each body returning in brown boxes.
(They) Sadly, rarely made the papers.
God rest the fallen heroes!

© Walter J. Wojtanik – 2017wordle286

Wordle #285

LONE OAK

I stand in singularity, high
upon the hill of dreams
and it seems I have taken root.
I stretch and reach,
breeching the skies, an attempt
to touch each cloud that passes by.
To catch birds is frantic flight as they fly
to destinations I will never know.
I grow where my seed had fallen,
in sullen solitude, my mood reflecting
the greyness of a day less bright.
Right here, I am infinity,
lost in the divinity of creation.
Life is elation, a celebration
of all we have been given.
Upon my mount I pose standing,
demanding nothing but a sunlit day,
and a place to display my girth
A lone oak, majestic upon this earth!

© Walter J. Wojtanik – 2017

THE WAY IT WAS

It can’t be the way it was.
Everything changes.
Life rearranges and what once was
Is no more. It can’t be
that way you remember,
from January to December
things have taken a turn
and as much as you yearn
for familiarity, your clarity
has been skewed. When viewed
with discerning eyes, the whys
and wherefores matter no more.
You can see it can’t be
no matter how hard you wish,
your dish has a different flavor
and everything that was once savored
is left to decay in a way that says
your train has departed.
You have left the station hard hearted
and you have started to long
for the long ago with the so and sos
with whom you had grown accustomed.
But, it can’t be the way it was.
Everything changes!

© Walter J. Wojtanik – 2017

Poetic Asides Prompt # 383 – “It Can’t Be”

HOMESTEAD DREAMS

An unfamiliar place with no trace
of anything you can recall.
So many thoughts and ideas
given birth as your mind unearths
sorrow with little hope for a tomorrow.
Webs cobbled in fine silk
milking memories from misty midnight menageries.
Windows to the world, a soulless place
replacing what once was held dear,
here where love blossomed
and sons and daughters grew in tune.
Airy, left in decay – a shell of better days
confiscated youth ripped from our hearts
by upstart degenerates and renegades
where as children we once played.
Zombied now and denigrated
waiting for a wrecking ball or overhaul.
In dreams you find your mind returning,
yearning for what once was your domain.
You can certainly go home again,
but why would you want to?

© Walter J. Wojtanik – 2017

Quickly – But It Seemed So Real

REFRESHING: A CONTRAPUNTAL POEM

STIRRING MUSIC

Her music stirs my senses,
a lightning bolt to shake me
waking me from my malaise and breaking me
away from this crazy despair.
I find her there, and I have this need to listen,
though I am not required to pay her heed.
she has written lyric and book and I pine to read.

REFRESH

A new start to an old beginning,
the winning formula has been improved.
When moved to resurrect a suspect muse,
I choose to use whatever is available,
turning the sail into her wind to begin again!
She is all that I have come to believe!
Everything she whispers is refreshing; a true blessing.

REFRESHING

Her music stirs my senses,
a new start to an old beginning,
a lightning bolt to shake me,
the winning formula has been improved,
waking me from my malaise and breaking me.
When moved to resurrect a suspect muse
and away from this crazy despair,
I choose to use whatever is available,
I find her there, and I have this need to listen,
turning the sail into her wind to begin again,
though I am not required to pay her heed.
She is all that I have come to believe,
she has written lyric and book and I pine to read
Everything she whispers is refreshing; a true blessing!

(C) Walter J. Wojtanik – 2017

Contrapuntal Poem as highlighted by Robert Lee Brewer