“Drink this!” she said with a smile,
“while I try and squeeze out another quart.”
Her sad cohorts had lost their sight
in a bar fight; it was not their night!

“This is rather sour” one blind man said with a dour look.
“It appears this milk was a ba-a-a-a-ad choice!”
“You are so right!” she said sheepishly.
“Your cow must be sick. And why is its hide as thick

as lambs wool?” asked he. “I guess you’re no fool” she quipped.
From that point on she was tight lipped!
But the blind men could see through her scam,
as they heard her take it on the lamb!

© Walter J. Wojtanik – 2017

QKJ #23 – “The Blind Men and the Milkmaid”



“A strange device for sure!” I thought to myself. What did Wellington call it? A GPS? Unfathomable rot, I think! Here, in Ismay’s behemoth, his “Titanic”… we are traveling at a good clip. The North Atlantic is vast in its openness. It is a rather bit of a nipper, I must admit.

I’ve retired to my cabin for the night. It was a right jolly day, and tomorrow should offer nothing newsworthy, in my estimation. I, Captain Edward John Smith, have grown tired of the sea after all these years. A permanent retirement after this voyage is a grand plan.

But what of this GPS gizmo? Ismay called a global position something-or-other. A navigational chart without maps, sextons or compasses! It could even spot bloody icebergs from a safe distance. “Who needs to be star guided with this marvel of wonder in this yet undiscovered ‘electronic’ age?” Bruce brags. (Ismay calls himself a visionary; I say whack-job!) Well, I’ll play with his new toy on the morrow! Half a cup of tea, and it is lights out for me!

In the need for speed
one loses their perspective,
objective unclear!

© Walter J. Wojtanik – 2017

QKJ #22 – A Common Item


"...A Bad Day Fishing!"
“…A Bad Day Fishing!”

Upon the lake we drop our lines,
and in our boat we are afloat.
A bad day fishing is just fine,
I find I have no need to gloat.

In our boat we are afloat.
The summer sun creeps up the shore.
I find I have no need to gloat.
This lake is full of fish galore.

The summer sun creeps up the shore,
the silence is a welcome sign.
This lake is full of fish galore.
I hope a few of them are mine!

The silence is a welcome sign.
I find my peace while I am fishing.
I hope a few of them are mine,
at least that is what I am wishing!

I find my peace while I am fishing,
a creel of fish and we can eat,
at least that is what I am wishing,
but if it’s empty, I’ll cut bait!

A creel of fish and we can eat,
a bad day fishing is just fine
but if it’s empty, I’ll just wait!
Upon the lake we drop our lines.

© Walter J. Wojtanik – 2017



“Do you know the way to San Jose?”
          “That is a good question that you ask!”
“I’ve been driving all night, but I’ve lost my way!”
          “It surely seems a daunting task.”
“Thank God, I brought a full hip flask.

        “Maybe I could ride with you?”
“The company might be good, that’s true!”
          “I could talk while you would drive”
“And I’d stay awake the whole way through!”
          “A darn good way to stay alive!”


© Walter J Wojtanik – 2017

QKJ #20 – Dialogue

**The form is something I call a “Dialogue Dizain”. Ten line “conversation” between two people. Rhyme scheme: a-b-a-b-b-c-c-d-c-d


If I only thought love was the answer,
If I only thought words were enough,
If I only thought “I’m Sorry” would ease all your pain
I’d say it again, and again, and again.

If I only thought hearts wouldn’t crumble,
If I only thought those tears were the balm.
If I only thought my heart could absorb all your pain
I’d do it again, and again, and again.

If I only thought a mind could find solace,
If I only thought a soul could find peace.
If I only thought a reason could truly explain
I’d tell you again, and again, and again.

If I only thought you knew how I love you,
If I only thought love was enough.
If only I’d tell you again and again,
these moments wouldn’t be so tough.

© Walter J. Wojtanik – 2017

dVerse Poets Pub – MTB: Critique and Craft



Damn if that alarm clock isn’t annoying me,
toying with me to get the hell up!
The beams of light seem too God-blessed bright
and I’d be right to lower the blinds.
Morning comes too soon in my nightly swoon,
and this ribald tune in my head to this dread-
ed rise stays internal. Another infernal taunt
flaunting the daunting day ahead.
It makes me wish I were dead
to the world for another five minutes!
Carpe Diem? My posterior!
I’m not seizing anything until I’m ready!

© Walter J. Wojtanik – 2017

QKJ #19 – Aubade



Another sunrise crests the treetops,
another day to celebrate life
expressed in words and rhymes
and at times, a song or two.
Memories of friends over time
and to whom you had connected offer

a slew of poems to remember them,
to hold them in heart when their presence
starts to fade. A parade of word warriors
seeking to hold the flank and to thank the gods
above for the love and guidance; a space dance
of a free and easy spirit. The music of life plays,
I hear it in every rustled leaf, in the coo
of a newborn infant who can’t help but make it.
I take it as another day of life afforded to me.
I see the new dawning with fresh eyes.
It is wise to greet each brand new day,
breaking your own record; your personal best.
All the rest is gravy!
© Walter J. Wojtanik, 2017
QKJ # 19 – Aubade



What do you want?
What do you want to do?
The clock is ticking,
flicking second off as if
stuck to the fingers
on their precise hands.
Time is fleeting. It is
meeting your deadline before
your time is through.
Enjoy your life, real
or imagined. Planned
or unscripted, uplifted to
the heavens, an offering.
Speak the words you were meant
to say. Love the ones who mean
the most to your existence.
Do not put distance between
any (wo)man and yourself.
Love your (grand)children.
Give of your time, of yourself.
Celebrate your every day!
Do all you can to enhance your life.
And realize there’s nothing better!

(C) Walter J. Wojtanik – 2017

Written to the Poetic Asides prompt #380: Nothing Better



Here lies a man who always knew
what to say when it was needed,
never needing to define his words;
always wishing his words defined him.
Forever hoping to be read,
but eternally silent now.
He’s dead. ~ Walter J. Wojtanik – 2012 (My epitath!)

I died.
It was a slow and painful demise.
It would have been wise to go with the flow
and show I was more than an aromatic alligator
bag full of words. Even a herd of buffalo
would know it would hurt if allowed
to blurt out poetic words. It’s absurd!
Never thought I would swoon on the third
day of a 1974 June. My vision gone too soon.
But you may have guessed, I lied!
I don’t own an alligator bag!

© Walter J. Wojtanik – 2017

QKJ #18 – Whole Cloth


There it sits.
It’s been there all morning.
It appeared without warning
and hasn’t moved since.
Neither have I, for that matter.

Here I sit.
I’ve been looking at it all morning.
I am intrigued by its shape,
but it hasn’t moved.
Maybe I should check it out?

The phone rings.
Distracted, I move to the kitchen
and answer this infernal wall phone.
(Yes, I still have an infernal wall phone!)
I’ve moved; it hasn’t.

Wait! Did it just move?
Maybe it’s a rodent what entered my domain?
I’d go insane if I start spotting droppings
when it “moves!”
Maybe it’s better left forgotten!

But it would be rotten
if it were a living, breathing, moving
thing. It brings me such angst.
I’m against cruelty to such things,
but if it charges at me, so help me…

I slither over to the couch.
I have a different vantage point,
a bit closer to this monster!
It’s been there all morning.

I say to myself,
“Grow a pair, mon frere!
You’re bigger than that… thing!”
You fling the remote its way,
but it just stays put.

What is it?
It does not react when provoked.
You grab a throw pillow to smother,
no other tact will exact what you intend.
You bend closer.

Closer still, as you will it to move.
You behoove it to motivate. It would be great
if it saved you the trouble. “Please scamper…”
Wait a minute! Looks like a sock fell from the hamper.
Thank God it didn’t move!

© Walter J. Wojtanik – 2017

QKJ #17 – Technique