“If you bruise, you lose!” my brother said.
“Don’t feel bad, you could’ve been dead!”

For some silly reason, it didn’t make me feel better
as my bloodied nose made my shirt get redder

and my two front teeth strewn on the street,
(how can I function without my front teef?)

Touch football games from pole to pole
and an errant pass throw out of control

Not another kid alive would be so dumb
To take a dive to catch one thrown into the gravel.

Sliding face first up the curb, abrasions and all,
It’s amazing I even hung onto the ball.

But with my face battered and my tongue sticking through,
I looked so raccoon with my face black and blue!

© Copyright Walter J. Wojtanik – 2013



He watched the sunset on the horizon
hoping that she might be caught
in that same moment where night
and the remnants of day melt
into hues of muted grays and orange.
The crash of waves mimics the exhalation
of her rapidly beating heart, gasps
of passion rushing and falling;
calling him to resuscitate her.
Nightfall continued and darkness
was the shroud that hid them
upon this shore many times lost,
in the heated rhythm of their lovemaking
taking every last breath from the depths
of the conjoined souls. Every last star
beckoned him and the moon
cast shadows on the memory of her
flesh beneath his own. And he felt her;
she permeated his very being, seeing nothing
but her eyes as beacons in the night.
He reaches to touch her in ways
she had always longed. Her presence
was all this night lacked. Fade to black.

© Copyright Walter J. Wojtanik – 2013

NaPoWriMo 2013 – Day 9 – Noir for the Ninth


Search your heart, feel the hunger within,
survival depends on the means to your end;
the need to extend your hand and touch
another vacant soul for the sole purpose
of conjoining hearts. It starts with hello,
and both go through stages; a game played
with ever-changing rules. A hungry heart
has all the tools to build a relation
in celebration of a wanted love. But boy,
don’t fall for the ploy called “hard to get”.
Set your sights on the target.
Your persistence can soften all resistance.
It’s big game you’re after. The game is love.

© Copyright Walter J. Wojtanik – 2013

From POETIC ASIDES – Day 9 (Hunter/Hunted Poem)