I am an enigma; a legend,
insistent that the season becomes
the most important thing.
It is for the children that I work,
and it seemed that they came
to appreciate this generosity,
which was rather rare.
Up in my spacious
hamlet I plan, amidst the hustle
and bustle (and time to rustle a sugar cookie
or two) with my diminutive minions
to charge through more rapid than eagles.
Rather happy, rarely sappy, I continue to hurl
myself  into this chore clenched fist and more
until I think I will burst.
And when I laugh my belly shakes,
a right jolly old spasm! Bridging the chasm
of disbelief, for a dedicated cause.
There is no mystery here. I am Santa Claus.

© Walter J Wojtanik

dVerse – Meeting The Bar: I am, The First Person Narrative



Five years ago, I penned the lyrics for this song in tribute to the young lives lost at Sandy Hook Elementary on this day in 2012. I re-post this each year on this day in tribute. A melody has been composed but still hasn’t been recorded.

Melody and Lyrics by Walter J. Wojtanik

Hearts of joy,
Playing in this world of love and happenstance.
Little minds,
Wanting just to learn of life’s glad circumstance.
Standing on the brink of years,
Standing tall in spite of fears
with open eyes.
Gentle souls; their mothers’ dears,
rained upon with angels tears,
oh, how they cry,
I’ll tell you why…

Another day,
Never knowing what’s in store, so unprepared.
Not the way
Children’s lives are supposed to be; confused and scared.
No one could have guessed their fate,
Mercy came, but much too late
for little ones.
So much love within their hearts,
Just waiting for their lives to start,
Oh, how we cry,
Tell me why.

The angels cried at Christmas,
Hearken angel voices sing a new refrain.
Now every year at Christmas,
Angel tears will fall again in sorrow’s stain.
Come now Angel, it’s okay,
Let love wipe your tears away
though your smile is gone.
Here now Angel, it’s all right,
Every new star shines so bright,
like your love, your light lives on and on.

Your Momma knows,
Deep within she feels your hand upon her heart.
And Daddy knows,
That even though you’re gone, you’re never far apart.
Babies when you left that day,
Angels now where angels play,
All looking down.
Missing Grandma’s warm embrace,
Grandpa won’t forget your face,
So, dry your eyes.
Please, don’t cry.

The angels cried at Christmas,
listen to the angels sing a new refrain.
Feel our love at Christmas,
Angel tears will flow with love ‘til we meet again.
Come now Angel, it’s okay,
Let love wipe your tears away,
though your smile is gone.
Here now Angel, it’s all right,
Every new star shines so bright,
like your love, your light lives on and on.

The angels cried (please dry your eyes)
The angels cried (a tearful sigh)
The angels cry,
Yes, they cry at Christmas.

© Copyright – Walter J. Wojtanik 2012




The wind blows cold
and whips the frosted breath
across my frozen cheeks.
I stand abreast my steel railed chariot

beneath the Northern Lights,
I listen to the sound of the
antlered behemoths pounding
a rhythm that drives my determination.

My trek begins,
rising to heights that until now were
unreachable. Unfathomable.

The wind no longer burns my face.
It soothes and comforts and fills my heart
with this love I have known my entire life.
With each bound I leave the desire

of all below. Rapid as night
my chore is ventured.
From village to town to city.
Each stop is a step closer

to my final destination.
For deep in the bottom of my bag
is a wisp of a frozen sigh.
It bears the name of you.

I slide down with my treasure in hand,
tip-toeing across the floor
to the side of your bed.
I warm the wisp with

the hotness of my breath.
I place it on your lips.
The warmth of a breath,
a wisp of a sigh.

A kiss from a love so true
brought to you on this Christmas.
I am filled with the joy of the season.
My bag is empty, my journey is done.

I am Santa Claus.

(C) Walter J Wojtanik

– Written on 29 May 2009 for the love of my life, my forever wife, Janice. (Although she’s not fully convinced that I Am Santa Claus.)


thank you
for kissing me in the elevator last night.

two strangers passing as ships
      different floors…
           different mores…

over your shoulder
reaching to press

         your scent: fragrant

lips vagrantly brushing
      eyes searching
           cheeks flushing/blushing

lips meeting fully
     no greeting exchanged.

i didn’t even catch your name!

© Walter J Wojtanik

– The first line was taken from Rod McKuen’s poem, “Another Thank You”
from his collection “Twelve Years of Christmas”

Poetic Asides – Prompt #414: Connection


Looks like my “I AM SANTA CLAUS” project is gaining steam toward completion. The concept of this collection of poetry is a book of poems written from the perspective of Santa Claus (or a “Santa Claus” persona). Each piece contains the line “I am Santa Claus” (usually as the last line of the poem.)

The “tag” line for “I Am Santa Claus” is “We are ALL Santa Claus”. That’s where you, my poetic friends come in. I hope to include a chapter entitled, “We Are ALL Santa Claus!” with poems written by my cohorts. I will also hopefully choose up to fifteen poems for this section. If you are so inclined to contribute to this long awaited effort, send your poems with the subject line “We Are Santa Claus”  to:

Claus.Krangle@ yahoo.com

Be sure to include the “I Am Santa Claus” line in your poem. It could be from your perspective, someone you’ve seen do positive things for others or of course from the eyes of Santa Claus. I will select my favorite poems (up to 15). You will retain the rights to your poems. If selected, you will be asked to provide a brief Bio for this project. Your submission will give me permission to consider your work happily. And remember, “We are ALL Santa Claus!”


We’ll do the same for the thirty-fourth time.
It’s no miracle. We’re at the pinnacle of love.
We’ve gone above and beyond being fond
of one another. You’re a wonderful mother,
an exceptional wife and my life would be
empty without you. So as the season nears,
all our fears and uncertainty will certainly
play second fiddle to the riddle of our life.
So I will give the gift that you’ve opened
every year when Christmas draws near,
and has honored you from then to here.
The present from your past that has lasted
to this present we still share. You’ve never
cared that I re-gift it to you every season.
We no longer wrap it, this gift that
lifts us to newer heights. I keep it here
in my heart, my love for you.
It need not be gaily adorned, it has
been borne (and slightly worn) daily
For the three plus decades we’ve been together.
No bows needed. Not foil paper mired.
No wasted boxes. No tape required.

Walter J. Wojtanik – 2016

Poetic Asides November Chapbook Challenge – Day 25: TAPE


The incendiary incidents escalate, too late
      for Sister Mary Should’ve Told All.
           The snow and ash and shrapnel fall

It’s beginning to look a lot like…
Someone will pay for her insolence,

the innocence assumed will not be exhumed
or extracted. The fact is that death does not allow …peace on earth.

                                     Goodwill… will be buried! It is scary

for the children to see this carnage at such an early age.
           It does not matter. They have no concept of god to which
                     to run.

                          Gunfire mires the remnants of civility
                                           to a smoking heap of nothingness,

As the nun’s hands remain clenched
          unsaid prayers will not help her now.

                                     How can it help anyone?

I’ll be home for… a short while longer if I feel stronger or am ready to die!

                            Deafening explosions erase all memories
of a father’ voice…
           of a mother’s touch…
                     so much fordreaming of a white…

Milkflower petals mimic snowfall. The black dog’s in need of a

                    shroud covering, a blanket to hide all that remains.

Open, he declares.

                              No one dares.
                                         No one cares.

Do not open until…in the air there’s a feeling…

                                                              No one survives!

         And so this is Christmas, and what have you done?

© Walter J. Wojtanik – 2016

for Aubade With Burning City, by Ocean Vuong

Poetic Asides April Poem-A-Day Challenge – Day# 21: “Response or Continued” Poem


OK, so after months of riding the fence and thinking “Do I really want to embark on ANOTHER blog?” I concluded – Why Not? 

Link to Words As Music

WORDS AS MUSIC is a blog specifically for aspiring lyricists needing some tips, nudges, prompts, lessons or just encouragement to continue their craft. I will try to post a “prompt” on Monday. Every OTHER Thursday we will highlight a different musical wordsmith and their music. Lessons will be smattered around whenever the urge takes me there, but I will try to do at least one every ten days. Exercises and assignments will be featured, and there will be a Glossary highlighting the musical terms we use throughout. A different sort of place. Maybe it will work, maybe not. But I’m taking a shot!



“I AM SANTA CLAUS” is not a dead issue. On the contrary, I’m getting ambitious and have recruited (without them knowing) Robert Lee Brewer’s Poetic Asides April P.A.D. prompts  AND those from MIZ QUICKLY’S IMPROMPTU blog to write poems for the book based on these ingenious nudges. I refrained from submitting them to either site, I just felt it would be interesting to complete the series from another batch of fine encouragements.

So, I’ll be a busy little wordy for a while, but don’t worry. I’ll keep you posted on my progress! 



They’ve started already, A steady stream
of sweet visions. My mission is easier
when these dreams begin. We are in
full swing bringing these dreams to fruition.
Rubber balls and baby dolls; games and toys
galore. And the little folk dig in, no joke
to please the girls and boys. Me and the Missus
are filled with bliss for this is what makes us shine.
I fly all night and she’s all right and fine because
I return to her every time. All year I’ve waited
my breath is bated and the work takes on
new meaning. All the planning and scheming
boils down to that one night. What a flight
that will be. Those that could be better than good
are giving a final push. Making my job
a work in flux as lists of names are finalized.
The reminder to be good for goodness sake
Is one that should not be taken lightly,
For this sprightly elf has gotten himself
into groove. It’s time to move to fulfill
the sweetest dreams. It seems we go through this
every year, but that’s why I’m here. I work
to the sound of reindeer pause. That’s my job,
I am Santa Claus!


Poetic Asides November Chapbook Challenge – Day 10 – Something Sweet