HAVE YOU NO EYES?

The soul has no windows,
as far as I can see.
But the truth has a heart,
and getting to the heart of the truth
takes a lot of belief
and a leap of faith.
Your ears will hear
what your eyes will not receive.
Do not trust your eyes,
for you realize that the soul
of a person rests in the eyes of truth.
Why didn’t I see that before?

© Walter J. Wojtanik

Poetic Asides with Robert Lee Brewer Prompt #477 – “Leap of Faith” Poem

I BELIEVE. YOU?

I believe that rain will fill the clouds
and will fall to make everything look new.
I believe that flowers will grow
because that rain came to nourish their thirst,
I believe in the promise of every new day
and the way my heart starts with the sunrise.
I believe in the darkest night and the brilliant
show of a candle’s warm glow,
I believe in everyone who becomes lost
will find their own right way someday.
I believe in the power of lighting,
it is not so frightening if you respect it.
and it is reflected in the power of love.
I believe in the strength of a baby’s laugh
and it is true I believe you and in you.
I believe in the magnitude of the smallest prayer
and that it is heard somewhere out there,
I believe that He who always was and will be
will see and hear it through a thought, or a sigh,
or a whisper of sheer hopelessness.
I guess I believe in everything
there is to believe in for that’s where I begin.
I believe. You?

© Walter J. Wojtanik – 2017

Poetic Asides – Prompt #415 – I BelieveYou

Offered at dVerse Poets Pub – OLN #206

 

AN ISSUE OF INITIATIVE

Project Technology” was intended to merge

people in unity; to sing the mantra of life.

Inquisitive minds always have the urge to question

this stellar commitment of delicious harmony.

We tolerate those who would leave the smudge of indifference,

but we activate our inherent need to make a difference.

© Copyright Walter J. Wojtanik – 2013

103

THE SUNDAY WHIRL – Wordle #103

WISDOM FROM BEYOND

Our old house,
empty then after Dad’s passing.
We were on a quest to get the place
ship-shape before its much put off disposal.
A brother still in residence,
an upper apartment meant to hold him over
between divorce and reconciliation (both came),
with everything including faulty kitchen drain
(which in illness Dad never got around to mending).
I became the pretending plumber; my brother,
an apprentice, snaking the pipe every which way but clear,
when I hear “under the stairs!”. My brother fully unaware
as I stare incredulously at his claim of silence.
“I heard you say ‘under the stairs’” I insisted,
but he resisted the notion with negative nods.
Mere moments brought a familiar sound,
“Under the stairs” it would resound, catching me
off guard and slightly perturbed. It disturbed me more
when my brother was sure he hadn’t uttered a word.
My faculties were not on Spring Break, my wits
were full about me. I was left thinking “Had I been drinking?”
But I would swear on a stack of pancakes
that what had me quaking in my shoes was more
of “Boo’s” than booze. “Under the stairs” once again.
I shout, “WHAT! WHAT”S UNDER THE STAIRS?”
Surely, a younger sibling witnessing the dismantling
of his older brother’s rocker would be more concerned.
But he yearned for the ‘project’ to be over.
I descend the ladder and end up under the stairs
amidst the cobwebs and dust balls there.
All these years since, I no longer wince
at the sound of my Father’s voice directing me,
his heavy metal plumbers snake wedged under the riser.
A wiser man would have snikcered at my flicker
of insanity. But all of humanity would crave for
that sound one last time to etch firmly in mind.
My Father continues to keep watch;
me still listening for the wisdom in his whisper.

A SORTA SANTA SESTINA

November’s early chill does not sway this warm heart
from the task at hand. Kind of a dress rehearsal, sort of a role
reversal from the other ten months of the year.
Around here, hustle and bustle are the norm and true to form, I see red
and green. A controlled chaos, laced with love
and a true sense of the spirit that fills me. Christmas spirit.

That is not to say we are not thankful, because Thanksgiving Day is where that spirit
really shines. A gathering of family in celebration of that relation fills my heart
because it is the essence of the long holiday season born of love.
And let’s not kid ourselves. We are nothing without it. When I roll
out my list for the second time, I am reminded that within each heart, red
and full of life, lives a passion that lasts throughout the year.

And it shouldn’t be only one day a year.
It should be a daily diversion to pass on that spirit
in every word ever written or read
on the subject of our fellow men and women. It does my heart
good to know that the initiation of these feelings comes from the role
I play everyday. It’s not to say I take the credit, it just comes back to the love.

Many people ask, “What is love?”
It may be a forgotten art, but it is never lost if you yearn
to give of yourself. Of this gift, you have full control.
For keeping the smallest spark of this spirit
will go a long way in igniting your heart.
The first step is the start of a life’s journey; immortality in red.

It is not so much the color of the heart, but red
is the hue of the blood that courses within us all, a sign of life; a life of love.
So as I near the start of my work, I can feel my heart
expand in proportion to the sense of wonder this time of year
places in a young child’s heart, and the sense of spirit
that comes with the territory. I fill this role

the best I can. I am “The Man”. That’s how I roll!
So before I don the jingle bells and that suit, bright red,
I will bow my head and ask that I never lose this spirit.
As I hear, it gets harder to come by these days. But I love
the challenge. I’m sort of in my element this time of year.
As the big day draws near, it will fill my heart.

It warms me completely. It is the role I take on gladly.
For no matter how badly things go each year, I will be here dressed in red
full of love and holiday spirit. After all, I am Santa Claus…sort of.

…AND THE FLAG WAS STILL THERE

A principle was attacked amidst
tears and destruction; a surreal snapshot
of a day worth forgetting. But no one did.
How do you forget the sight; the sound?
How do you forget the faces; the screams?
How do you diminish the sacrifice?
The word ‘impossible’ was tailor made
for this moment in time. Despair and
disbelief would be usurped by anger
and determination to not allow those who
put it all on the line, go quietly into that good night.
It became a fight to rise each day to face
the insurmountable task one brick at a time.
As many bricks as there were tears shed.
As many shards of glass as there were screams
of torment and terror. But the greatest error
made by a faceless ideology was assuming
we were broken and defeated. But the foresight
of three brothers of the fraternity most depleted
showed we were not defeated. Through the rubble
it stood in defiance. A naked flagpole planted
among the girders and debris. A symbol; our banner
raised high. A declaration loud and clear.
We are still here. We will not go gently.
Together we stand, a shield for liberty.
You took your shot and failed. An American Tale…
and the flag was still there! America had been blessed.

THE POETRY IN MY MUSIC #2

Waking up from the dream, there is only one way to go about it.  OPEN MY EYES is the next song I’ll highlight here. We can walk around in this life with our eyes closed to the beauty around us. And until we open our eyes and really see, we miss out on a lot. The lyrics are below. 

OPEN MY EYES

Melody and Lyrics by Walter J. Wojtanik – © 2005

Longer than lifetime, you’ve lived in my soul
Here deep inside me I’m blessed by your charms
With you in my arms, I’m feeling alive
And when you hold me, I lose all control

And when I see you, you OPEN MY EYES
Being around you fills me with desire
I’m caught in the fire that burns in your heart
and through your eyes I can see to your soul.

But when I OPEN MY EYES
And see how things could be, how they used to be again
I feel you open up your heart
Making a brand new start, we’ll never part again
OPEN UP MY EYES and make me see

Closer to heaven, my angel and I
That’s how it feels with you in my heart
Right from the start, you’ve taken me in
And when you’re near me, we’re sharing our love

And when I see you, you OPEN MY EYES,
When I hear you, you’re just like a song
Your music and words are the sweetest I’ve heard
And when I sing you, you fill me with love

But when I OPEN MY EYES
And wipe the sleep away, to a bright new day with you
It really comes as no surprise
That even when you’re not here, you’re always near to me
Please OPEN MY EYES and make me see…you.

And so when I kiss you, I OPEN MY EYES
I don’t want to miss that look on your face
I’m lost in your heart, and I’m deep in your soul
And when you love me, you OPEN MY EYES
And when you Kiss me, you OPEN MY EYES.

OPEN MY EYES!

ECCLESIASTES

Inquisitive and questioning,
the whys and what fors
come to the fore to satify
a muddled soul. All control
once thought to be ours,
becomes clearer the nearer
we come to believing.
Not as decieving as expected,
for it has been perfected
since the world was new.
And you, seekers of a truth
you can accept, expect it
to fall into you laps like manna.
But, to everything under heaven,
there is purpose, and the worst
we can do is think in terms of now.
In its time and season, everything
for a reason. A time to live and die.
A time to laugh and cry.
A time to reap and sow, don’t you know?
When the time is right, you will in turn.