ARMS REACH OUT

Feel the arms that reach out,
they are searching for you.
Here when the day is through
and summer nights hold us close.

No distance can separate, no matter
how late into the evening we stand,
one woman, one man and a grand view
of this night for two.

Summer breeze soothing, smoothing,
from over the lake and making shadows
and silhouettes dance in the moonlight.
I feel fine as long as it shines!

© Walter J. Wojtanik – 2016

POETIC BLOOMINGS “An Entertaining Summer” – Day #1: Summer Breeze

NEAR THE ERIE TRACK (The House With None of Us In It)

I do not venture there anymore.
The old homestead near the Erie track
stands in an unrecognizable state.
The tales I’ve been told of our old house are tragic.

The house is empty, a haunted house bears more life.
The sharp contrast cuts like a serrated knife,
shredded, tattered edges and shards of memory
laid to waste and leaving a bitter taste in our mouths.

Generations stacked three high would cry
a collective tear if they went near the Erie track.
In fact, many more would shed when the fact enters their heads
that there’s nobody in the house worth a mention.

I cringe with a strain; a tension winding my spring
until I release and cease to be rational.
A right and traditional home; a suitable sanctuary,
it is scary how quickly it has fallen. It is hard

to imagine a manicured yard and bountiful garden left barren,
I wouldn’t care if the years of my making weren’t taking
their toll on my memory. There is nary a day that goes by
that I do not try to recall her as our domain. All that’s left is pain.

Indeed, she offered us all that a house should, it was good
that warmth and shelter were felt in her embrace.
We played no part in her disgrace; this place is no longer
ours to concern over. We’ve grown stronger in our absence.

I do not venture there anymore. That place,
that house with none of us in it. I do not look back.

Written in response to:

“The House With Nobody In It” by Joyce Kilmer

 

***This poem was featured in my first poetry chapbook, WOOD – poems written for a carpenter father and A Wood Street homestead. More stories of her abandonment cause me to revisit it here!

MODERN DON JUAN

I’ve been searching through blue days,
black nights. I’m looking for someone to love.
You are my one desire. Love me.

Mailman, bring me no more blues!
Bring me words of love, everyday.
And take your time, that’ll be the day

I make demands but if there’s a chance,
I’ll not fade away. Listen to me,
think it over as I rave on.

Me, a modern Don Juan? Oh boy,
yet I find great joy in being infected with love.
You’re the girl on my mind in this fool’s paradise,

it’s nice early in the morning, when without warning
my heartbeat skips a bit. Maybe baby it’s true
love’s way to say “Now we’re one!”

It’s so easy to get lost in your affection,
this beautiful affliction. No more lonesome tears,
I’ve had it up to here with crying, waiting… hoping.

That makes it tough, a rough road to hoe.
But, love is strange and you’re the one.
Don’t leave your brown-eyed handsome man wishing.

Tell me what to do.
Tell me how it’s so easy.
Well…it doesn’t matter anymore, all right? Just love me.

(C) Walter J Wojtanik, 2014

Based on the songs of Buddy Holly

POETIC ASIDES NOVEMBER CHAPBOOK CHALLENGE – DAY 17: AFFLICTION POEM

SWEET BLUE MADAM

Let me explain it to you, Lorelei.
I’m just an average guy.
A blue collar man working
long nights. Sure, I can be a
renegade at times, but I’m not
the angry young man! If you believe
that, you’re fooling yourself.
I haven’t slept since your “Dear John”
letter. It’s better if I get this off my chest.
Your beauty had me snow blind,
I’m seeing Miss America when I look
your way. I could sing for the day
I first saw you! It might have been
love at first sight; it might have been
the grand illusion. Either way, I’ve believed.
You lit up my world and curled me
around your finger. And your heart lingers.
Show me the way. I have too much time
on my hands and these are the times
it takes love. Let you and me just be!
Come sail away, or kiss (your ass) me goodbye.

(C) Walter J Wojtanik, 2014

Based on the songs of STYX

POETIC ASIDES NOVEMBER CHAPBOOK CHALLENGE – DAY 16: EXPLANATORY POEM

LACKAWANNA STEEL

Lackawanna was home long before I knew I’d roam,
and find another place that fills this space in my heart,
From my start I was forged in Lackawanna Steel; a real
sense of structure and foundation built upon the
rigid girders of steel. Bethlehem Steel gave us all we had,
or all that Dad earned to set us up to succeed.
He worked hard and lived harder with liquor the answer,
and a demise from cancer. The plant had long since closed,
and I suppose it was just as well. The swell of steel workers
had found a similar fate, much too late to save them.
But this steel town outside of Buffalo, found itself
deeply seeded in each native son’s hearts. From the start
they were all “Men of Steel” good to feel at home
just south of where the Buffalo roam!

Poetic Asides November Chapbook Challenge – Day 27 – A Local Poem

PONDERED MESSAGES WHISPERED

In dreams our nights take comfort and rest easily
while hours of knowing nothing overtake whispered sighs.
In that, I appreciate more such opportunities,
invitations never linger. Over virtually everything,
words insert themselves happily,
pondering and understanding, leaving a mark,
when answers never known enlighten nightly!

 

Poetic Asides November Chapbook Challenge – Day 21 – Hidden Message

FAILING IN LOVE

Life throws you curves which swerve
out of your strike zone leaving you
alone in a crowded room. Your doom
was feeling love was something
you could grow into. But you two
feel obligated, not celebrated in the
traditions of bliss, every Judas kiss
turns your head instead of turning
your heart. You start to feel your
footing giving way and the day
you no longer do, will be your last clue.
You yell and fight all night still standing,
no soft landing to be had. Is it bad?
When you never fall, does love fail?

 

Poetic Asides November Chapbook Challenge – Day 19 – Love/Anti-love

PERFECT MORNING WAKING

Sun’s first appearance precedes her by an hour.
She is a precious flower; she lingers in slumber,
languishing in the blankets; she purrs catlike
much like the feline entwined against her leg.
She begs for five more minutes; more time
to give her dreams closure. She knows comfort
from the warmth of your soul, she knows peace
in the calm of your voice. She knows that you
offer all her heart has longed for. You are her
first morning revelation; her epiphany!
As sleep is lifted she is gifted with
a tender kiss, loves blessed bliss. Her eyes
butterfly and awaken. You have taken her
soul and mated it with your own. Just as you
have known. Love has opened both of your eyes!

Poetic Asides November Chapbook Challenge – Day 19 – Love/Anti-Love

EARTH, WIND AND FIRE

EARTH

She is of the earth, grounded
and hearty, a solid foundation
in which to build a life. No upheavals,
a relief to have belief behind you.
She will remind you that the salt of the earth
has great worth to season your lives.
Pure, Majestic, Well-weathered –
tethered to each other standing on
Terra Firma. You yearn to get your
hands dirty; she is of the earth!

WIND

She speaks.
Her words waft like
a gentle breeze blowing
the hair from my face.

Soft kisses blow across my forehead.
She is the wind: Persistent, Mercurial, Warm.
She speaks.

FIRE

The ember glows, left to smolder,
fending the colder temperatures off
and setting off a blaze of uncontrollable
ferocity. The seeds of love become
as volatile. From the first smiled hello
until you are both consumed by its pyre,
love is a fire. It is consuming yet not
destructive, it is instructive and nurturing.
Love will penetrate you and warm your
insides until you are ablaze with her.
You can be sure if you play with fire,
you’re going to get burned.
At least you surely hope so!

Poetic Asides November Chapbook Challenge – Day 17 – Elements

THE ETERNAL OPTIMIST

Glass half empty is not in his thinking,
For thinking of what is lost to us, is a lost cause.
He pauses to reassess, and the best case scenario
Is a lot less scary with his thoughts facing forward.
He is a stalwart staring his fears down and frown-
Ing at they who lament the hole they’re in.
He begins each day accepting that he is loved.
He knows that all the morning brings will
Have him singing by the end of day. And to say
There’s not enough in his glass would decry
His lack of class and decorum. Life bores him to tears.
But here, the glass is ALL WAYS filled to the brim.
Someone just decided to use too big of a glass!