THROUGH THE WEEK WEAKLY

I.
Monday comes.
Wretched,
wicked
mess of morose,
a strong dose of reality.
A new week begins
draped in mundane banality.

II.
Tuesday’s child
is neither wild or mild,
she wears a slightly devious smile.
It supersedes her previous smile.

III.
Wednesday is a bump in the road,
a hump on a toad,
half the load of a full ride.
Tucked inside between
beginning and end.

IV.
Thursday.
Thor’s day.
Bring the hammer down.

V.
Friday Fish Fries
a Buffalo staple,
brought to the table
with slaw, and macaroni,
fries and a slice of rye.
Oh my!

VI.
Saturday’s a happy dance,
a chance to catch up
with things left hanging.
Banging away
in the workshop shed.
Peg board hooks and hangers,
Wallbanger is no stranger
than usual.

VII.
Sunday & I slip away,
no more work,
not much play.
Looking for just a quiet day,
not waiting for Godot,
no way!
A song of praise
for the past seven days.

© Walter J. Wojtanik – 2017

Poetic Asides – 2017 November Chapbook Challenge – Day 7: Week/Weak

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DEEZ GUYS

Deez guys is putrid,
deez guys is bums,
deez guys ain’t got no brains, dey’s so dumb.

Deez guys got no class,
deez guys don’t know nuttin’,
deez guys ain’t got no lip dey should button.

Deez guy think dey’s funny,
deez guys don’t look tough,
deez guys jus’ don’t know when enuff is enuff.

Deez guys ain’t got no jobs,
deez guys jus’ hang in mobs,
deez guys is indubitably big fat slobs.

Deez guy don’t talk good,
dey’s got made up names.
Deez guys got the hots for dem lower east side dames.

Deez guys could dress up
but a woid to the wise.
If dey looks any better, it’s just a disguise.

(C) Walter J. Wojtanik

Poetic Asides – 2017 November Chapbook Challenge – Day 2: Disguise

A POEM STARTING WITH AN END LINE FROM SHEL SILVERSTEIN

It’s rather dark in here,
but don’t go toward the light.
It would be a bright thing
at the end of the hall,
but, just feel along the wall
and you find your way.
And if along the way you feel
something soft and gooey,
or misty and booey, run like hell.
Ghosts and goblins love when it’s dark.
It’s their “Home Field Advantage.”

(C) Walter J. Wojtanik – 2017

The last line from “It’s Dark In Here” by Shel Silverstein

A POEM STARTING WITH A LAST LINE FROM E.A. POE

WISTFUL REST

By what eternal streams
doth thou seek thy rest?
By whose marker
doth thou keep time?
On mornings bright,
after long dark nights,
shalt thou find repose?
If thou hast chose to sleep
where He who giveth such rest
hast determined, wilst thou
yearn to slumber there in peace
amongst the heavenly chorus.
I pray thee rest in thus ways,
in verdant pastures,
near eternal streams
to dream in wistful dreams forever.

© Walter J. Wojtanik – 2017

The last line from “To One In Paradise” by Edgar Allan Poe

Written for Poems of Garden Gnomes prompt: End of the Line

I BELIEVE. YOU?

I believe that rain will fill the clouds
and will fall to make everything look new.
I believe that flowers will grow
because that rain came to nourish their thirst,
I believe in the promise of every new day
and the way my heart starts with the sunrise.
I believe in the darkest night and the brilliant
show of a candle’s warm glow,
I believe in everyone who becomes lost
will find their own right way someday.
I believe in the power of lighting,
it is not so frightening if you respect it.
and it is reflected in the power of love.
I believe in the strength of a baby’s laugh
and it is true I believe you and in you.
I believe in the magnitude of the smallest prayer
and that it is heard somewhere out there,
I believe that He who always was and will be
will see and hear it through a thought, or a sigh,
or a whisper of sheer hopelessness.
I guess I believe in everything
there is to believe in for that’s where I begin.
I believe. You?

© Walter J. Wojtanik – 2017

Poetic Asides – Prompt #415 – I BelieveYou

Offered at dVerse Poets Pub – OLN #206

 

MY KNEES “R” SHOT

I come and go,
refusing to go Moe Slowly
as opposed to Miz Quickly (or dead).
I’ll opt instead to wax poetic,
wax my moustache
(no Brazilian bikini wax for me)
and return when this briar patch
reopens for word play. To this day
it’s one of the few I’ll return to,
to celebrate you with the folded
ears and wondrous wit.
If this is it, it was fun.
If it’s not done, it was still a blast
and I pledge to come back every last
reincarnation of Quickly nation
wherever in tarnation that might be
(I believe it’s somewhere in Tennessee)
I’d be relieved if you’d drop a line
(or a word here or there)
to say all is okay and when ready
to resume, presume I’ll be there!

© Walter J. Wojtanik

Quickly – Take A Knee

 

APPLE CIDER

Aromatic and sweet,
Purely a treat when
Pumpkins are prevalent.
Liquid love in abundance
Every sip makes taste buds dance.

Crushed and filtered,
In quarts or gallons,
Doughnuts come in tandem
Even apple pies will suffice,
Respite ripe for the pickin’.

(C) Walter J. Wojtanik – 2017

dVerse Poets Pub – Tuesday Poetics: The Smell of Chrysanthemums

LYRIC WATER REJOICES AT SEASIDE

The happy dead are in its voice, majestic poet! Might I be as full of song. Melodies of seafarers past haunt each true and measured step.
Lilting, ever-lifting; an offering from the weary mariner to Neptune’s ear. Accompanied in breath and beat repeats the symphonic sound of a lunar baton. Maestro of the night, unwavering. Building to crescendo, euphonious. Tympani, cacophonous crash; an introduction to the score so written. And hidden within languishes water’s rhythmic cadence, lyrical expressions of heart and soul, left to wash away traces of the moment. Never ending refrain, sing again!

crash of waves resound
long after sun seeks her rest
water quells her thirst

© Walter J. Wojtanik – 2017

**Inspired by “On Seeing A Train Start For the Seaside” by English poet, Norman Rowland Gale

dVerse Poets Pub – Haibun Monday: Water

DEAR JOHN (YOU’RE NO LONGER WANTED)

You’ve been dispatched,
snatched from the jaws of romantic victory.
But you could see the writing on the wall,
you’ve taken a fall most precarious,
and she was serious with her missive.
You’ve been dismissed,
given the big kiss-off. You scoff
but know your indignation was born
of your stagnation. You floundered,
rounded third and were thrown out at home.
You saw it coming, it had been drumming
on your nerves and that curve ball blew past you.
You’re finished. You’re through. She’s moved on,
so should you! Send packing, lacking any reason.
Her love’s been recanted, dear John.
You’re no longer wanted.
Hit the road, Jack!

© Walter J. Wojtanik – 2017

Quickly – Make it easy on yourself

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