ALL TOGETHER AGAIN

This poem was written shortly after attending my 35th Reunion for the Lackawanna High School Class of ’74. In was an epiphany of sorts and brought may open ends together. And refreshed others. With our 40th right around the corner, I though it fitting to re-post this.

ALL TOGETHER NOW

Score and fifteen etched the faces,
some coming from most distant places,
just to bring the circle closed.

Youthful memories to the fore
for men and women who before
were classmates on the brink of aging.

Over time we’ve gotten older,
mellow now, where once were bolder,
with wisdom lacing our decisions.

Parents now, some grandkids too,
and pride in everything they do,
at this stage of life we share.

And share we did, through the ages,
faces posed on all the pages,
come to life to touch our histories.

Recognition brings a smile,
sadly thinking all the while,
“What the heck is that guy’s name?”

Grouped together with familiarity,
cliques of old held high hilarity,
now accepting, all were welcomed.

And me, a bookish nebish then,
stood abreast with these old friends,
who remembered me with some affection.

Why do situations pose,
a change of manner, do you suppose
I could have been a different man?

For back in High School where life bloomed,
blossoms of beauty in every room,
the directions chosen were our own.

Some, the choices were not theirs,
and death had sadly nested there
to take old comrades from this earth.

Surely in spirit they raised a glass,
to celebrate this reunited mass,
the storied Class of Seventy-Four.

I regret to say, through faults of mine,
I met old classmates for the first time,
thirty-five years past the bar.

The smiles and hugs will surely linger,
and I can count on just one finger
the seconds I’ll hesitate when forty calls.

Long live Lackawanna High School Class of 1974!

HOMELAND SECURITY

Lackawanna, the land I love.
Generations sought sanctuary,
and nary a day goes by that I don’t miss
the comfort of her embrace.
This home, this place, my founding,
my grounding was assured in her arms.
Safety was her offering, love was her
constant. A space on Wood Street
that was home base until Dad’s passing.
I long for her walls to enclose me,
I remember every inch of her footprint.
I carry a bit of her with me.
i carry it in my heart.

(C) Copyright Walter J Wojtanik – 2014

POETIC ASIDES 2014 APRIL P.A.D. – Day 12: CITY

THIS IS THE CITY

The skyline reaches,
upwardly mobile sight lines
and sign of neon and chrome
in canyons of brick and mortar.
The natives are restless,
there’s much to do in much less time.
Hustles and bustles and
urban rustlers gathering,
shoved by the maddening crowd
loud distractions detract
from the solace you seek.
Not quite for the meek.
No city for timidity!

 

© Copyright Walter J Wojtanik – 2014
POETIC ASIDES APRIL P.A.D. – DAY 12: CITY

EMERALD CITY

A merry land is OZ.
The promise of new tomorrows,
where sorrows are forgotten,
if you can get past the rotten stench
of wicked ambition, a condition
full of hot air. Sailing in on a Gale
and dropping in is a bitch
if you land on a witch.
Little ones come out of the woodwork…
and flowering bushes and the rushes.
All roads of gold lead to green,
Scenery opulent and absurd,
blackbirds are undeterred
by straw headed men,
rusted hunks are left for junk
and the meek of the jungle
tremble and bungle through life.
Sunlight in the land of good and evil,
a fight to retrieve head and heart
and “braverism”. Home is merely
a click away. Or two. Or three.
There’s no place like it.
It doesn’t take a wizard to figure that out!

 

© Copyright Walter J Wojtanik – 2014
POETIC ASIDES APRIL P.A.D. – DAY 12: CITY

MAUMEE

Maumee, Ohio.
Never been there.
Never met her.
Never heard of her,
before poetry placed her in my heart.
From the start, she became a place
that held a face most familiar.
Never seen her.
Never met her.
Won’t forget her influence
and support. A poetic cohort.
She knows my skeletons
by name. All the same,
Maumee, how I love ya, how I love ya!

 

© Copyright Walter J Wojtanik – 2014
POETIC ASIDES APRIL P.A.D. – DAY 12: CITY

IGOLOMIA

East-by-Northeast of Krakow,
I look back now and it is a speck
in the vastness of creation.
Elation springs from her soil,
a land to offer a man who would
be a friend and mentor, a guardian
and “father” in all avenues but name.
My grandfather, a gentleman of the soil,
he would toil all his life to provide
what his heart felt was needed.
Not greedy, or needy, a rich man
with a wealth of love given generously.
A little village in Poland’s southern
spaces, A place where I find a connection.

 

© Copyright Walter J Wojtanik – 2014
POETIC ASIDES APRIL P.A.D. – DAY 12: CITY

HOMELAND SECURITY

Lackawanna, the land I love.
Generations sought sanctuary,
and nary a day goes by that I don’t miss
the comfort of her embrace.
This home, this place, my founding,
my grounding was assured in her arms.
Safety was her offering, love was her
constant. A space on Wood Street
that was home base until Dad’s passing.
I long for her walls to enclose me,
I remember every inch of her footprint.
I carry a bit of her with me.
i carry it in my heart.

 

© Copyright Walter J Wojtanik – 2014
POETIC ASIDES APRIL P.A.D. – DAY 12: CITY

BLASDELL, N.Y.

A stones throw away from home,
a burb of a burb, westward.
It was there that she dwelled
and a walk in any weather
would get her within reach.
Near the beach of our Great Lake stake,
it would take a lifetime to forget.
A first love; a true love
in its infancy where intimacy
was a hand hold and a smile.
All the while we grew together,
an Auburn she and bespectacled me.
Friends who spent nearly thirty-five years,
amidst joys and tears, in love
until the ultimate parting.
My first muse, I choose to revisit often.
Writing to soften the pain, I return again
and again. Blasdell, the Lake and her!

 

© Copyright Walter J Wojtanik – 2014
POETIC ASIDES APRIL P.A.D. – DAY 12: CITY