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