He sat awake listening to the distant chimes in a forlorn wind,
a cacophony of scattered tones grating on his raw nerves
as the muted sunrise curved in the early morning mist.
The grayness served to mirror a tattered heart;
his vast emotions had skirted the edge of rationale.
Failing to scale the treacherous precipice of love,
there was no one else to blame.
He had drawn the short straw.

© Copyright – Walter J. Wojtanik – 2013


Written for The Sunday Whirl – Wordle #93


One of the pearls of wisdom from the school of hard knocks
says that art for art’s sake is a sticky proposition.
But, you create art for the love of it; it permeates
your skin, infecting every cell and burrowing straight
to the bone. Charge your muse and call upon
the poet gods to spark your filaments with the light
of many great ideas. Clear the air,
and just beware that you don’t soil the linen!

©  Copyright Walter J. Wojtanik – 2013


Written for The Sunday Whirl – Wordle #92


If I were me,
I’d be happy in my station
this close to publication I could taste it,
I wouldn’t waste it… the opportunity that is!
Just the way it is…if I were me.

If I were me,
I’d be less afraid to sing my songs,
you could all hum along if you don’t know
the words. You know how it goes, you’ve heard
it before. We’d do an encore… if I were me.

If I were me,
I’d be the man Mom and Dad had hoped,
I would have coped better with illness and death,
I’d save my breath as far as some people were concerned.
And I’d have learned… if I were me.

If I were me,
my poems would be recited,
I’d still love unrequited and hide it well,
and I’d tell my daughters, they oughta be happy
and steer clear of crappy situations… If I were me,

I’d feel blessed by the friends I’ve made,
have a poet parade and invite the masses,
we’d hold classes on form and encouragement
and take nourishment from our collective muse,
That’s what I’d choose, if I were me!


Branching out, the lone man standing
leaving the demanding world of tumult
and bitter disillusionment. A solitary venture
allowing breath to resuscitate the beast
within; wide awake with clarity, a rarity
of late. A chance to sit and listen to this voice
within. Out of practice, the fire is lacking
and I have been slacking off. Taking a step back;
the giddy dance awaits. Pray that the music continues.

© Copyright Walter J. Wojtanik 2012


Written for The Sunday Whirl – Wordle #90