Month: March 2015
THEY PLAYED ON
The fire blazed.
They ran left behind the tackle.
The crowd cheered.
The structure burned.
Second and seven,
heaven knows
if he throws into that coverage
it’s going the other way.
A smoke screen obscuring,
sight lines muddled
and they’re in no huddle.
Fans fanning the flames,
these games are surely a hot ticket!
Kick it and take the three!
Image #3: Mt. Hermon Fire
LA MIA CASA (MY HOME)
LA MIA CASA
Lontano e vicino al cuore,
la famiglia rimane.
Mantengo questa macchia su
quest’anima mia.
Questo mi consola.
Il mio padre.
Il paese di mia madre della madre.
Chiudo i miei occhi e io sono,
la mia casa.
MY HOME
Far away and close at heart,
family remains.
I keep this stain upon
this soul of mine.
I find comfort here.
My father’s place.
The land of my mother’s mother.
I close my eye and I am there,
my home.
Image #2: La Spezia, Italy
IN THE EYE OF THE BEHOLDER
Sweet as pie, the apple of my eyestands with strands of hair
disheveled, level headed
and wise. No head turner,
simmering on the back burner
of life. But someone knows.
She was chosen to grace
this place with all good things within.
It is because of her I wear this grin.
She is my beauty; I behold her!
Image #1: “Apple of My Eye,” by Andrea Kowch
XXIII
Hulking and broken, he sits and stares,
faint flashes of brilliance
invade. Muscles twitch
when he tries to make a fist.
A native son, punch drunk
and sullen, sunken into a state
no brotherly love can placate.
You hate to see him this way,
he should have quit when
he was ahead. Instead, he’s
stumbling and mumbling to himself.
“Adrienne! Adrienne!”
He came back again and again.
The twenty-second reincarnation
of the franchise, you can’t disguise
his heavily swollen eyes.
“Cut me, Mick! Ya gotta cut me!”
© Walter J Wojtanik, 2015
Poetic Asides With Robert Lee Brewer – Prompt #301 – Movie Poems
Movie: “ROCKY” – Sylvester Stallone
ANTICIPATING SPRING
Hidden in forbidden slumber
under the slew of snow and ice.
Merely weeks away the day that Spring
appears we’ll cheer and revel
in celebration, joy will be unbridled
when it decides to come. One-by-one
the days pass, slow not fast
and each in question. Any mention
of flurries and freezing leaves me
cold. I’m getting to old for this.
These are the waitings in which
we’ve been partaking. There’s no
mistaking, Spring is taking
it’s sweet old time!
© Walter J. Wojtanik, 2015
Phoenix Rising Poetry Guild – The Reason For Rhyme: Different Strokes; Different Folks
THROUGH THE EYES OF A POET'S HEART 
Leah Saulnier
perched precariously
carry you a great distance
a chance to spread your wings
and soar into the great blue
but fear getting embedded
in the grass knoll
you have no control of fate
after all if you take the fall
you’re applesauce!
Image #4: “The Amazing Race 3,” by Leah Sauhnier The Painting Maniac