Unfurled, my canvas tightens,
taut and rigid in the strength
of a gale force wind. Beginning
and ending with the gusts
prevailing, sailing into the waters,
uncharted and unsure. It is purely
the epitome of self-sufficiency;
this proficiency so star-guided
provides me with the direction I crave.
In it, I am saved, a navigator of
life’s currents. Wave after wave,
I am coaxed toward shore, for sure
more open waters await me.
My sole journey continues undeterred.
(c) Walter J Wojtanik – 2020


When love speaks, it speaks softly.
Aspiring to lofty things, of how hearts sing
in a harmony that warms and soothes.
It moves them to a pinnacle
that other cynical people cannot attain.

When love speaks, it speaks softly.
A language that needs not word,
nor intention. Or any mention of past
indiscretions. Love expresses in a way
that says all it ever needs in a breathless sigh.

When love speaks, it speaks softly,
o’er the expanse of time, o’er the length
of distant miles. O’er fathoms of seas and lakes
it takes a tender thought to conjoin two souls
across a heartfelt connection in loving perfection.

When love speaks, it speaks softly,
When love speaks, it is heard loudly.
When love speaks, knowing hearts believe.
When love speaks, nothing else needs to be said
when love speaks.

© Walter J. Wojtanik – 2013

A reprise of a poem I had written in response to Marie Elena Good’s poem, “Love Speaks”. It fit the Day 23 prompt at Poetic Asides November Chapbook Challenge – WHEN_____, so I’m sharing it again. I miss Marie!


She flashed a life briefly
chiefly to reassure
that her ability to rebound
from profound sadness
would quell the madness
of his intense expression.
Each session of their tryst
would make her eyes mist over,
and before she was covered
in clover, she would know
where their hearts were buried.
She remains to be carried
in the hollow of his chest,
the best place she could be.
She possessed it; caressed it,
claimed it, marking the spot.

© Copyright Walter J. Wojtanik – 2013

Presented at Poets United – Poetry Pantry #159


Somewhere beyond the sea,
horizons stretch offering vistas
of opportunity; a chance to enhance
the lives we’ve chosen.
Frozen in time, preserved,
it serves to remind ourselves
that we find ourselves
on the right course.
We become a force of nature,
and of a stature to make a splash,
somewhere beyond the sea.

© Copyright Walter J. Wojtanik – 2013

Suggested by POETIC ASIDES Day 20 – (A “Beyond” Poem)


He watched the sunset on the horizon
hoping that she might be caught
in that same moment where night
and the remnants of day melt
into hues of muted grays and orange.
The crash of waves mimics the exhalation
of her rapidly beating heart, gasps
of passion rushing and falling;
calling him to resuscitate her.
Nightfall continued and darkness
was the shroud that hid them
upon this shore many times lost,
in the heated rhythm of their lovemaking
taking every last breath from the depths
of the conjoined souls. Every last star
beckoned him and the moon
cast shadows on the memory of her
flesh beneath his own. And he felt her;
she permeated his very being, seeing nothing
but her eyes as beacons in the night.
He reaches to touch her in ways
she had always longed. Her presence
was all this night lacked. Fade to black.

© Copyright Walter J. Wojtanik – 2013

NaPoWriMo 2013 – Day 9 – Noir for the Ninth


Despite limited time and capabilities (and posting one and ONLY one Chant poem) I was able to place it in the Top 10 in the Writer’s Asides Chant Poem Challenge.

Congratulations again to Taylor Graham for taking the Top Spot

  1. Whose Move, by Taylor Graham
  2. This is being alive, by Barbara Young
  3. The end of the world is near, by Jacqueline Hallenbeck
  4. And She Dances, by Linda Hofke
  5. Pocket Garden, by Rachel Hoyt
  6. Frankenstein, by Bruce Niedt
  7. All Will Become Dust, by TJ Hoyt
  8. Time and Tide, by Walt Wojtanik
  9. The Secret Song of Simon, by Susan Budig
  10. See how far we’ve come!, by Michele Brenton

My entry:


The wind whips up across the lake,
time and tide waits for no man.

Churning waters in its wake,
time and tide waits for no man.

I stand at shore side gazing out,
time and tide waits for no man.

Questioning this life of doubt,
time and tide waits for no man.

Sunset settles long past rising,
time and tide waits for no man.

Hopes and dreams on new horizons,
time and tide waits for no man.

Copyright © Walter J. Wojtanik 2012


On the edge of reason, we watched and waited.
We hated being helpless, and I guess
we hated being the target of hate.
Many were functioning as they normally had,
but then every man, woman, mom and dad
had much to explain to minds that could not
comprehend. It had sent a strong message,
that we should be ever-vigilant and can’t
let down our guard. It is hard to preach trust
when the thrust of such extreme proportion
penetrates our collective spirit. They thought
they’d split it in two. It is true that we fight
amongst each other, like any “sister” and “brother”
but let another interfere and we’ll be here united
to fight it tooth and nail. We had stumbled, but did not fail.
May God continue to Bless America!

© – Walter J. Wojtanik – 2012


The Sunday Whirl – Wordle # 68

It cuts to the bone, marrow dripping,
mixing with every drop of blood purged
from a heart so battered; worn. This
link of passion sets sail on our seas of love.

An uncharted course, not knowing
what was in store for young lovers
with dreams to raise anchor and navigate life,
leaving the past in their wake

and their future dreams on distant horizons.
The turbulent churn tosses and the vessel will pitch,
sending hearts to the rail to purge insecurity and fear
and setting feet firmly of the deck of heart’s desires.

From stem to stern, their pulses quicken,
a feeling that will sink, motionless and still
finding a harbor loving and longing;
a port most welcoming and wanting.

All seas crest with gentle waves to soothe
battered and time-worn hearts; homeward bound.

© Walter J. Wojtanik – 2012

For THE SUNDAY WHIRL – Wordle #68


I had the extreme pleasure of being interviewed by Claudette Young on her webspace, CLAUDSY’S BLOG. In it we discuss life, poetry and other journeys into worded wonder. Thanks Claudette for this opportunity.

FEBRUARY 5, 1930

A daughter born; a daughter torn.
Life coming and going in an instant.
One daughter coming into the world;
my mother born into the “comfort”
of their hearth and home,
two doors down from where her grandmother
had passed away on the same day.
A sadness unparalleled, a living hell.
My mother, the infant cleaved to
my grandmother’s breast in the upper window,
watching my Great-grandmother’s funeral
process past them in silence to the church
up the street. Victory and defeat fleeting.
A daughter born; a daughter torn.
Life coming and going in an instant.