My older brother Paul and I would spent our time, taking hours to scribble and draw and doodle. I drew more than he scribbled, his artistic talent would come in wood (yes, another carpenter!) My skills came in the arts: music and sketching and writing and all that these disciplines would entail.

Never fail, on rainy days we’d wile away the day with page and pencil hoping to fill the blankness with something worth displaying on the refrigerator door. Our younger siblings thought we were bores. They just wanted to play! The youngest of the brood would complain “Paulie and Wally doodle all day!” She didn’t know why our mother always laughed at that!

Memories we share
stay etched in our hearts and minds.
We find comfort there.


DoodleI sit old school,
pencil in hand and a grand idea
for a poem or verse and I
nurse this thought thinking of a title.
Words, words, words,
No trace of anything I’d written,
thinking, thinking, thinking about drinking…
Sweeping line like an ess curve, a swerve
to the right and back right smack where
the first rhyme should be. I see a place
in my head. Instead I sketch branches
a chance to free this vision, a poor decision
on my part. My heart wanders, it squanders
every viable verb for a series of “V” shaped birds.
Words, words, a box in three dimensions off
to the right of the curve. The swerve. Erase.
To many distractions. Factions of my brain gone
on hiatus. This poem/sketch will hate us
in the morning… a tree. A series of evergreen
cravats distant filler… a mill wheel beside the 3-D
box.  A cabin… perhaps a writing escape… The image
intoxicates, it waits for words, words. WORDS!
A barren stump, empty branches,
it enhances the landscape. I escape my poetic inklings,
curvy doodles like cooked noodles on the plate…
It’s getting late. I should either sign this or sign off.
Word, word, SCRITCH, SCRATCH, erase…

© Walter J. Wojtanik – 2016

Poetic Asides April Poem-A-Day Challenge 2016 Day 8: “Doodle”