The winds change unexpectedly
setting everything in chaos
I toss

and in turn I become airborne.
I will hold no malice or scorn,
I’m worn

from flapping my arms so quickly.
It is a sickly guttural

with which I’m dealing, a feeling
of freedom and some kind of angst.
I wretch,

and if someone would fetch me an
air sick bag, things would go a lot

If music soothes the savage breast
my guess is that primal screaming
will not

cure the flippy stomach I’ve got.
I hate to fly, if you haven’t
guessed it.

Gusts and upheavals, retrievals
of my wits, i have these fits when
I fly.

© Walt Wojtanik – 2012


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

WE WRITE POEMS – Prompt #114: Carved in Stone


The gentle in and out of life,
fills her lungs with each cautious breath,
she lives

each day as if it were her last.
My hard and fast rule, is this:
find bliss

within every waking moment,
the gift of life is heaven sent.
Feel love

in the people that surround you,
return every heartbeat in kind.
My mind

swims out to the choppy waters
filling this torrent of despair.
Who dares

to deny her the love she craves?
Love saves the broken hearted from,


She lives for the moments like this:
a tender kiss and words of love
heart felt.

And we’ll go forward forever.
Never lose sight of the future,
or now!


© Walter J. Wojtanik – 2012


For POETIC BLOOMINGS – Synchronicity form