Silvery pizzicato, strings in vibration, a concerto composed with the chill of viola trills. A hibernation beneath the blank cover shrouding the silence in winter’s prelude. It exudes a gentle whisper. Over near the rivulet, crystals form, there is no warmth to keep her dance nimble. This symbols her station encased, faces rosy and ruddy, frosted and firm.

Wind blown and silent
whispers falling on deaf ears
fears of winter’s blast

(C) Walter J. Wojtanik – 2017

dVerse Poets Pub – Haibun Monday–Shimo No Koe–First Frost’s Voice


I walk along the shoreline. Evening has lowered her veil showing her sumptuous soft features laced by her endearing charms. Darkness sweeps the horizon as if her arms had become heavy and fall slowly to her side. I slide my hand into hers when she would allow it and we steal soft whispers and the most delicious tender kisses, a bliss unknown to us so far. And as the stars find their spaces,
our faces are graced by a glow so bright it can be seen for miles and miles of smiles of a summer night!

waves washing away
the harshness of  summer days
as the night smiles

© Walter J. Wojtanik

dVerse Poets Pub – Haibun #40: Summer


Two young boys caps askew, discussing the finer points of the designated hitter, a wad of Fleer’s between their cheeks, a bat over the shoulder of one, glove in tow. A cleanly stitched Spaulding tightly gripped and the other astride his bike, Mickey Mantle in his spokes. Not a common scene today, a refreshing look; a throw back.

A clear spring evening
memories of youth invade
in mental cascade

(C) Walter J. Wojtanik


I found my true voice years ago, an accidental discovery due to a poetic heart and musical bent. Beatles, Chicago and ol’ Blue Eyes. I could harmonize to “Love Me Do”, and “Do-Be-Do-Be-Do” like The Chairman. Unfortunately, I could never nail the trumpet trills or trombone slides. On occasion, I would display my vocals while in flight on the Thruway with my rendition of “Come Fly With Me”, or breaking my vocal cords with a Helter-Skelter scream. I always dreamed of being up on stage, but at this stage of life, I’d be happy to just keep on driving. Lead vocals not included!

silence falls and breaks
calls to pierce the solitude
songbirds find their voice

(C) Walter J. Wojtanik

dVerse Poets Pub – Haibun Monday: Tramps Like Us…



A splendid little ristorante just outside of Buffalo, the ambiance was quaint and classy, the wait staff was quite pretty. The owner was a local legend, a friend to all who paid a call for the best Italian fare in town. Ilio DiPaolo, a wrestling god before all the theatrics, had such class. (He fed the masses with his fantastic recipes.) All the patrons knew him, or did when they were through, he would stop at every table and shake a hand or share a laugh and a smile. The gentle giant had such style. His Abruzzo charm and air was always his personality. But the reality is that Ilio now is sadly gone, a victim of his fate But his family still carries on the tradition. And Ilio watches over all from his portrait on the wall. This Greco-Roman warrior, to the very end a philanthropist and wrestler, restaurateur and friend.

Never judge a man
until you can shake his hand.
Greet a gentle soul!

© Walter J. Wojtanik – 2017

QKJ #27 – Your Favorite Restaurant



“Life is about not knowing, having to change, taking the moment and making the best of it, without knowing what’s going to happen next. Delicious ambiguity.” ~Gilda Radner

All we learn, we learn by doing. We try and fail and try again. each attempt at failing falling a little better than before. The more we try and fail, the better we become at succeeding. Or failing. We start out as a blank page. Pure and pristine. And we mean to do our best, but until we learn the hard way, we will stay blank.

Thank God I would learn to fill each line with something. Anything! Each clean leaf a failure waiting to happen. But it also holds potential! And as I continue to grow as a man and a poet, I gain more and score points of experience, for it is in experience that I flourish. It nourishes this resolve and feeds my desire and persuades my waiting to achieve whatever I believe I can!

Always do something
even if for the first time.
gain experience

© Walter J. Wojtanik – 2017

dVerse Poets Pub – Haibun Monday #29



“A strange device for sure!” I thought to myself. What did Wellington call it? A GPS? Unfathomable rot, I think! Here, in Ismay’s behemoth, his “Titanic”… we are traveling at a good clip. The North Atlantic is vast in its openness. It is a rather bit of a nipper, I must admit.

I’ve retired to my cabin for the night. It was a right jolly day, and tomorrow should offer nothing newsworthy, in my estimation. I, Captain Edward John Smith, have grown tired of the sea after all these years. A permanent retirement after this voyage is a grand plan.

But what of this GPS gizmo? Ismay called a global position something-or-other. A navigational chart without maps, sextons or compasses! It could even spot bloody icebergs from a safe distance. “Who needs to be star guided with this marvel of wonder in this yet undiscovered ‘electronic’ age?” Bruce brags. (Ismay calls himself a visionary; I say whack-job!) Well, I’ll play with his new toy on the morrow! Half a cup of tea, and it is lights out for me!

In the need for speed
one loses their perspective,
objective unclear!

© Walter J. Wojtanik – 2017

QKJ #22 – A Common Item


I touch both sides, reaching, spanning. Fanning out, an arbiter from here to there. You grace me when you cross me, but do not be cross when you cross me. I am here so you can go to there. It is always greener on either side where I reside. I am your bridge.

A graceful arch goes
across the chasm of life,
we traverse our time

© Walter J. Wojtanik – 2016

dVerse Poets Pub – Haibun Monday #24: Bridge


Smooth sailing on an azure lake, tides and time waiting for no one reason to change the course we manipulate. We are the captains of logic, charting the stars for the safe route home. But as the swell begins to toss your weary hull, an instance comes to fore that all that seems tranquil, is now turbulent and unrelenting, preventing you from the completion of your journey. In your thinking you order the lifeboats, not giving up the ship, and not going down with out a fight, tonight and every night. You stand determined, hand on the rudder and tacking a hard starboard course angling directly into the storm that batters your horizon. Catching your sail, it turns you to your heart’s safe harbor, a lifeline tethered and strong, sailing right along to the sanctuary of your soul.

rolling and churning
turbulent waters seek peace
adrift in the storm

© Walter J. Wojtanik – 2016

dVerse Poets Pub – Haibun Monday: Winds of Change



I return with regularity. To empty my mind; to achieve clarity. And it is a rarity that I can attain both. But along this shoreline, life reveals itself. It pulls memories from my mental shelves and splays them before me in these azure skies. Sights for my weary eyes, it is no surprise that I return. These thoughts inspire by my mind’s mire!

I find a place, a space where I can plant myself. And vacate the moment, searching the horizon for some semblance of beauty that reminds me of you. The sky is blue. But, it is not maudlin, nor melancholy. Brilliant and bright and jolly, cloud pocked and wholly enveloping. And portraits of you start developing in my heart.

seagulls take their terns
we are birds of a feather
we soar to the clouds



© Walter J. Wojtanik – 2016

dVerse poets pub – Haibun Monday: The Sky IS the Limit