John Joseph was seen near the twin towers
when last he spoke to the waiter.
Ratlike he walks; there is her ink
on his inept heart. The town’s newest thespian
was shaken; the weakest titan worn,
they let these jerks rejoin the war.
What’s a joker to think?
No network wrote their tales,
Joseph the janitor takes a slow sweep
and the rest join in his trek to the top.
He wasn’t the one to stop, shake, joke or jest.
This poet knelt in pain,
he was written to his knees.
There were no pleas spoken.

© Copyright Walter J. Wojtanik – 2013

Written to prompt for NaPoWriMo 2013 – Day 24: Words in words

Every word in this poem was culled from my name,


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s