Warm breezes waft,
a windward caress on this
night of endless stars.
Flickering pokes into
the shrouded black night,
leaving blurbs of light
to illuminate the sand
and star-crossed lovers,
finding their passion skip
along the rippled glass
in star light’s most fervent dance.

© Walter J. Wojtanik – 2016

Poetic Asides April Poem-A-Day Challenge – Day #22: “STAR ______”
Also presented at dVerse Poet’s Quadrille 8 – “Skip”


Forgotten acquaintances foregoing
fun, fun, fun to head for the warmth of the sun
would be nice, wouldn’t it?

I’ve been busy doin’ nothin’
but thinking about the fairer part
of this sad kokomo I have become.

It was a sin how lady Lynda
found the need to break away and say nothing,
a sorry soul more lost than I had become.

God only knows why I chose to be
the hero and villain in her serial life.
But, would I do it again? You bet I would!

And is it possible to forget Caroline?
No! I was amazed how one woman
could make this place we shared a better

place than was served up on this platter
of life. She would have been a great wife,
But she liked the ocean, she was free flowing and

growing impatient with my muse.
I’m waiting for the day when I can say
I no longer miss her. I would kiss her

in a heartbeat were she here, the dear.
Then there’s the darlin’ Barbara Ann.
When I get around to her, I can hear music.

That’s why God made the radio!
But she was another of those California girls,
free of spirit and on life’s surfing safari

with nary a care in this whole world.
When I said “Don’t worry Baby” she must have
taken it to heart. A wild honey.

I always thought that when I grew up to be a man
who needs a woman, it would work its way around
to happening. I wonder. Please, let me wonder.

So help me, Rhonda. I can never learn not to love.
Isn’t it time I come out from in my room for you?
Don’t fight the sea, sail on, sailor!
This child of winter needs you here with me.


(C) Walter J Wojtanik, 2014

Based on the songs of The Beach Boys



I sit along the shore, mesmerized
by waves in their cyclical samba
rolling and trolling on the lake
of hopeful dreams. Screams of children
playing in the surf, scattering –
chattering in an endless drone
screeches and squeals, peels
of raucous running and splashing,
flashing sunshine from their gleeful
eyes. Skies, blue and reflective
subjected to the whimsy of wide-eyed
wonder under the spell of tides.
There comes a lull, children
amassed like seagulls, charging &
retreating. Bleating like sea birds,
indistinguishable in their spirit.
You can hear it in the children’s joy.

(C) Copyright Walter J Wojtanik – 2014