My heart envisions what my eyes refuse to see. ~Poet Walter J Wojtanik
She has spread her cheer every year
for twenty-seven. Pure heaven with
her heavily dimpled smile.
One of the sunshines of my life
and she, the sunflower of same.
Her name is Andrea, and her bloom
brightens every garden
she sees fit to visit.
(C) Walter J Wojtanik – 2020
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
Tall and thickly rooted,
an “orchard” amidst a garden.
The hardened immigrant toils,
muddied soil his base,
and his face is ruddy and worn.
He had been removed
from the home he knew trans-
planted between two trees
shading his vegetable patch.
An apple tree reaching,
arms raised in prayer beseeching
for a fruitful yield. Across the way
plums, purple and regal.
Leathery hands gripping a hoe,
a “Hokka” he calls it, chopping
and tilling clods of dried sod.
Plans for tomatoes, potatoes,
beets and cucumbers
and a number of other plants.
Bandanna flailing raised to brow
mopping the flop-sweat
under the noon day sun, baking.
A curse in his mother tongue,
chopping against bark to free
the mud held tightly. Releasing
his place of birth for a new home!
(C) Walter J. Wojtanik
Poetic Asides Prompt #397: Land of ________
I had the extreme pleasure of being interviewed by Claudette Young on her webspace, CLAUDSY’S BLOG. In it we discuss life, poetry and other journeys into worded wonder. Thanks Claudette for this opportunity.
http://claudsy.wordpress.com/2012/05/07/interview-with-poet-walt-wojtanik
Attracted by lingering memories,
or drawn by a heart felt compassion,
we come together to fashion our thoughts
into some semblance of conformity.
The enormity of that which we wish to convey
touches the hearts and souls of other such
thinkers planting their seeds to flourish;
in poetic bloom we are nourished.
One to another we join; all invited and welcomed.
A home for such ideas in the garden of thought.
A place of such communion does exist. The venue is called POETIC BLOOMINGS and it is a garden of poetic expression shared by many. All are welcomed and encouraged to write.
Open to all poets of every skill level and age. All that is required in the garden is to have fun and stop to smell the poetic roses!
This poem was written to the prompt: Community over at WE WRITE POEMS. Thanks to Marian Veverka for the inspiration.
My heart envisions what my eyes refuse to see. ~Poet Walter J Wojtanik
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From my muse to your eyes.
THROUGH THE EYES OF A POET'S HEART 
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