A twiglet is a short phrase. Or a word. Its aim is to “prompt” a flow. A thought. A memory. If something comes to mind, write. A polished piece isn’t the goal; creativity is. Leave a link, if you’d like your work read, but comments should not be expected. Twiglets are posted on Tuesdays.

Words rumble like an avalanche of thought. Warn the villagers!

WJW – 2018



Left behind.
After all that have gone before.
A box.
No one left to claim the contents,
so it becomes mine.

Scraps and relics of foregone places,
tug on my mind for the slightest traces
of remembrance.
Remnants of vaguely familiar people
who caused me to be.
Reminders of the way
things came about in my history.

The past revisited
in fond recollection.
I study the faces
and strain for a mention
of a name. Many are unknown
and will remain so.
But, in the myriad of this photographic
patchwork I find a common thread,
which binds this present
to those long agos.

This sepia tone
is the trigger that fires these synaptic
glimpses at who I have become
and of the people who “brought” me to this place.

Sepia is the color of memory.

(C) Walter J Wojtanik – 2017

Poetic Asides – 2017 November Chapbook Challenge – Day 30: Back in the Day


The days dwindle down,
and this half smile/half frown
has been lacing my face of late.
It is great that I get to escort my girl
down the aisle to change her world
and that of her chosen mister.
Her sister stands as matron of honor,
and on her sleeve she wears the heart
of her mother where no other can reside.
Me and the bride, side by side for a brief while
longer. The emotions get stronger and the frown
is internal, this infernal feeling that she is stealing away
to play wife to the joy of her life. But that smile
takes over as I hand her over knowing her young man
made the right choice and the voice in my head
says what I need it to say. “She’s on her way!”
Way to go, Dad!

(C) Walter J Wojtanik – 2017

Poetic Asides – 2017 November Chapbook Challenge – Day 27: _____ OF _____


There’s a wedding soon and we’re excited,
all the required functions are in place.
A daughter bride, I find it hard to hide
the pride I have for her. For sure she will
grace the life of her fine young man.
A lad of a Canadian clan and his tartan
is true. We view him as a wonderful addition
to our crew. By year’s end we will have
made familial friends across the Provinces,
from Ontario to Alberta, the Great White North
and her glories, our stories will compliment
each other. New found sisters and brothers
joined for a cause to much applause.
We can’t wait. It’ll be great. And so it goes.
The family grows.

(C) Walter J Wojtanik – 2017

Poetic Asides – 2017 November Chapbook Challenge – Day 21: Construction/Deconstruction


Monday comes.
mess of morose,
a strong dose of reality.
A new week begins
draped in mundane banality.

Tuesday’s child
is neither wild or mild,
she wears a slightly devious smile.
It supersedes her previous smile.

Wednesday is a bump in the road,
a hump on a toad,
half the load of a full ride.
Tucked inside between
beginning and end.

Thor’s day.
Bring the hammer down.

Friday Fish Fries
a Buffalo staple,
brought to the table
with slaw, and macaroni,
fries and a slice of rye.
Oh my!

Saturday’s a happy dance,
a chance to catch up
with things left hanging.
Banging away
in the workshop shed.
Peg board hooks and hangers,
Wallbanger is no stranger
than usual.

Sunday & I slip away,
no more work,
not much play.
Looking for just a quiet day,
not waiting for Godot,
no way!
A song of praise
for the past seven days.

© Walter J. Wojtanik – 2017

Poetic Asides – 2017 November Chapbook Challenge – Day 7: Week/Weak


Deez guys is putrid,
deez guys is bums,
deez guys ain’t got no brains, dey’s so dumb.

Deez guys got no class,
deez guys don’t know nuttin’,
deez guys ain’t got no lip dey should button.

Deez guy think dey’s funny,
deez guys don’t look tough,
deez guys jus’ don’t know when enuff is enuff.

Deez guys ain’t got no jobs,
deez guys jus’ hang in mobs,
deez guys is indubitably big fat slobs.

Deez guy don’t talk good,
dey’s got made up names.
Deez guys got the hots for dem lower east side dames.

Deez guys could dress up
but a woid to the wise.
If dey looks any better, it’s just a disguise.

(C) Walter J. Wojtanik

Poetic Asides – 2017 November Chapbook Challenge – Day 2: Disguise



By what eternal streams
doth thou seek thy rest?
By whose marker
doth thou keep time?
On mornings bright,
after long dark nights,
shalt thou find repose?
If thou hast chose to sleep
where He who giveth such rest
hast determined, wilst thou
yearn to slumber there in peace
amongst the heavenly chorus.
I pray thee rest in thus ways,
in verdant pastures,
near eternal streams
to dream in wistful dreams forever.

© Walter J. Wojtanik – 2017

The last line from “To One In Paradise” by Edgar Allan Poe

Written for Poems of Garden Gnomes prompt: End of the Line


Awards and background information,
and contact information for contacts; affiliations.
Memberships are credentials of experience; an
expert in the field of media. Marketplace credibility of
media appearances, connections.

Personal anecdote platform. Professional organizations
and the promotion of proven track records.
Public speaking and published works,
a publishing experience showing demand for their book,
a writing track record.

(C) Walter J. Wojtanik – 2017

Poetic Asides – Prompt #411 – Information


Do you take everything for granted?
And does your truth live within you?
Are questions that are never asked
ever answered?
Is it right to set your own standards?
Or should you demand to know how to go?
Is the road less traveled a good choice?
Does your voice ever come unraveled?
Do you allow no to be a solution?
Can roadblocks bring you to some conclusion?

(C) Copyright Walter J Wojtanik – 2017

dVerse Poets Pub – Poetics: The Answer is 42


Our hearts go out to the victims of destruction
knowing reconstruction will be long and hard.
Our hearts are heavy for the losses they encounter.

We can offer our thoughts and prayers
We can give financial assistance.
but no amount of resistance will let us

ever forget, we are all in God’s hands

(C) Walter J. Wojtanik – 2017

Poems of Garden Gnomes – Form Friday: Sevenling