ELEGY TO A DEAD MUSE

I mourn the death of words,
last gasps of a once hearty muse.
Of late it refuses to feel inspired
having been mired in grief and despair.

It is there that she lays,
splayed in her former glory,
a story retold more times than it should.
But, I cannot dismiss it as good.

I do not find comfort there where
she once played, things said linger
and reverberate and as of late
leaves me with these stingers where my heart bleeds.

It needs release, but please, let these sessions
end with my true expression, and not the depression
that has laced her loss. The cost keeps mounting
as I am left counting the corpses and divorcing

myself from all former numbers. My mind staggers.
It lumbers, a drunkard inebriate and confused
feeling used and abused and choosing to dispatch
each night until well past mourning slumbers. My words

have hung themselves out to dry, and try
as I might they just don’t feel right.
Words, last gasps of a once hearty muse
remain mired in grief and despair.
She’s no longer there!

© Walter J. Wojtanik

Poetic Asides 2017 April PAD – Day 18: Life / Death Poem

WONDERFUL

You want to pull up stakes and make
a beeline out of dodge, but the old codger
has a score to settle; he tests your resolve
as your spirits wander. Under watchful eyes
your wish for non-existence is granted
and every man, woman and Zuzu is lesser
for it. Your brother dies, as do the guys
on his ship. You weren’t there to save them.
Your mother sees another boarder,
not a son at all. You fall from her grace; losing face.
A bad Martini drives you to drink and in the Nick of time,
a strange angel gets his wings on your dime!
You think you’ve wasted your life with so much to give.
This is the place to be, and the people you need to touch.
Is that asking too much of life?

(C) Walter J. Wojtanik

Life / Death Poem

DON’T CLOSE YOUR EYES

The day lasts long after your light dies
as grains of slumber entice your sleep,
but fight the urge, don’t close your eyes.

Our lives are rife with hellos and goodbyes,
and offers of friendships that we keep.
The day lasts long after your light dies,

and friends remember how you were wise
beyond your years, and your loss they will weep.
But fight the urge, don’t close your eyes.

The end of life’s long day is smattered with highs
and depths of despair that run deep.
The day lasts long after your light dies.

And those left behind will want to wail and cry
as remnants of you lie fast asleep,
but fight the urge. Don’t close your eyes

lest you be forgotten and your glad surprise
fades, as into lost memory you seep.
The day lasts long after your light dies
but fight the urge, don’t close your eyes.

(C) Walter J. Wojtanik

Death Poem

THE MAN CAN’T HELP IT

He considered it a bitter pill, not to be swallowed or spit out; it was meant for Randall Williams to keep to himself never to be consumed. The man knew their fates were doomed from the start. Life’s puzzle was missing pieces, but it had enough to offer the promise of not allowing it to go South. He knew hope springs eternal, but the fierce competitive nature of this man possessed didn’t allow for promises or hope. From the moment Williams had stepped off of the train, he had heard the cries and seen the tears from the dust encrusted eyes of the children left to wander in this desert. The winds were gusting violently; they knew nothing of filters for protection. All the town folk of Waverly knew was that death was slowly filling their lungs, leaving them nothing but an excuse to die. This was worse than any prison sentence. Dr. Randall William was some angel of mercy! He couldn’t even help them. This was his hell!

His futility
was not a utility
he could offer them!

(C) Walter J. Wojtanik

Life/Death Poem