Evening descends like a hushed silence,
and tranquility is its marker.
Her song is a lilting lullaby
in the shadows of the night.
There’s no threat of violence
as the midnight sky grows much darker.
The constellations fill the sky
contradicting darkness, bringing light.

© Walter J Wojtanik -2019

Offered at:
Poetic Asides: Cyhydedd Naw Ban (Welsh Poetry Form)


dVerse Poets Pub: Quadrille – …and the most beautiful words are…  


A variation of the form written as a companion piece to “Comes the Morning”


…and all at once, the rain had ceased.
The length of sunshine has increased.
When did my daughters grow so quickly?
Why has it left me feeling sickly

when the warmth of Spring emerges?
Comfort in this season’s surges.
Little girls become young women
and all the changes from within –

blossoms having rooted now bloom,
fragrant flowers fill up the room.
Decorating each life they touch,
truly knowing they mean so much.

Life’s bouquet gathered together,
flourishing in all kinds of weather,
Grown in love to know what life means;
ever-growing, evergreen!

© Walter J. Wojtanik




Roses smell sweet, and their beauty
is their sworn duty to nature.
In any nomenclature, their stature blooms
filling every room with their fragrant fare.

Shall I call a woman a rose?
By any other name she would be as
sweet and beautiful, a dutiful inspiration
in any nomenclature. A flower amongst thorns.

Well worn on a well-worn sleeve, she leaves
an impression, that says her heart, the blush
of a rose, has chosen you to be her gardener.
And you are blessed to hold her bloom.

Her perfume, like the rose, flows to your nostrils,
filling you with her heavenly scent, for she was
heaven sent. She was meant to be nurtured
and cared for, and what’s more, to be admired

and loved. Above all else, she will grace your life
brightening your days as long as she stays in view.
Just like roses too, a women is most beautiful.
A woman is a rose. What’s in a name?

© Walter J. Wojtanik – 2017

QKJ #15 – A Plant With Thorns


In the distance, she stands in silhouette,
a profile that could shine over the miles.
From the first glance she steals your breath,
you would swear that death could not leave
your lungs any less capable. You are unable
to move; you are paralyzed by the beauty she exudes.
Your true heart beats erratically, a statically charged
rhythm. Small steps ensue, as you inch ever slowly
hoping to bring your lowly stature within her realm.
She is captain at the helm of your ship, full sail and rudder
at the ready. Slow and steady you proceed, a man dutiful,
dedicated to a love so haltingly beautiful! From the start
she stands in silhouette casting her shadow on your heart!

(C) Copyright Walter J. Wojtanik, 2015

POETIC ASIDES / Robert Lee Brewer – Prompt 323: Hesitation



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



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