She stands
heart full of fire.
Consumed by her soul’s desire,
for she knows steps she has taken
could be so mistaken.

She walks.
Passions inflamed.
She wants his muse to notice.
Sharing the desire to dance
if they just took the chance.

She basks
in the sun’s warmth.
She stops, feeling its embrace
like his arms over the miles.
She stands there and smiles.

She knows
passions can burn.
She wants to feel all she can,
no promise or demand, just heat;
an all-consuming love.

She sighs.
She wants this more
than anything else she knows.
He continues to grow on her,
touching every moment.

She steps,
moving closer;
feeling alive with passion,
his words entice her to want more;
lead her to their dance floor.

She feels
alive and well
desired. Fired by him
who writes love as he writes his heart,
letting the journey start.

© Walter J Wojtanik – 2016

POETIC ASIDES – Wednesday Prompt #348:”When Everything Stops”


He stood on the front porch with morning as a new promise.
The mist of dew’s bated breath hung above the grass
as sips of his molten brew stimulated his heart.

This was the part that took the most out of him,
for he knew the feeling that was still asleep
and could not be awakened or aroused easily.

Looking out, he saw the tendrils of light lifting
over the distant ridge, a bridge between dreams
and heartbreak – and he aches a little with each

rise of his chest. He was a mess, and he knew it.
If he could eschew these thoughts he would,
but he also knew it would do no good.

The brilliance of the emerging sun possessed him
as much as her bright light held his passion.
It would keep from crashing down around him

and the memory of her flame fortified
the fire that burned warmly in his heart.
It wasn’t much, but it was a start.

The birds too were awakening, and there was no mistaking
their song. It was a strong prelude on this multi-hued
morn. It was born of love and hope, and he could cope

with whatever the day wrought. It ought to be good.
He would sip again and savor the flavor of lips
once pressed against this same cup, an interruption

most welcomed and desired. Again it stoked the fire.
A deep breath filled his lungs and he held it in,
recalling the scent of her as the same fresh

and exhilarating sniff. It was as if she was standing there
against his scarred shoulder, drawing her strength
from his worn and tired physique. But his psyche

needed mending because it was sending these signals
of glad sadness. An unbalanced madness festered
in love and disdain, an old refrain they had reconciled

years earlier. And in it, he just got more assured.
It was pure, these feelings, melancholy as they were,
for it was her who had saved him. It was her whim that

resurrected him; it protected him in ways he thought
no one ever could or would, but she did.
She hid it well, much the same as the rabbits that pocked

the field across the way when they came out to play.
Their furry tenderness blended in well to stave off this hell
that festered and pestered his heart. She loved their

timidity and guarded adventurism, they explored
the way her heart had searched for its mate.
Guarded and tentative, a preventative to heartache

and breakage. She had staked everything by offering
her smiles and womanly wiles to his dark and brooding
moods. She became the sunshine that bathed his face

and lifted his spirits, and her voice as he’d hear it
in the trill of the sparrows at play. It was their Anniversary day. A day when distant hearts are perfected

and reflect on lasting connections offered in breaths and sighs,
sunlit skies. Birds heard in the songs that lived within.
That silly grin when the bunnies leaped and danced,

and she had pranced through his life unabashed
and confident. She knew what it meant to be loved.
Cup nearly drained and a faint sound approaching

encroaching on this solitude, but not intruding.
He heard the door’s creaking yawn and his eyes were drawn
to the vision that graced him. Her face was angelic,

her blonde hair thick and disheveled; a devilish look in her eye.
She offered another shot from the bottom of the pot;
a new cup with a bright red heart right below where

his lips kissed. In the morning mist they were complete.
She had re-awakened to his new day. He had nothing left to say
but a deep “good morning” and he watched her yawning arms

stretch to hug the world. His girl never strayed. She stayed.
Reminders notwithstanding, she had been quietly demanding
his attention, not to mention his love, for above all else, he did.

He loved her more each day.
And today was their Anniversary day!

© Walter J. Wojtanik – 2016

Poetic Asides April Poem-A-Day Challenge – Day 26: “Love Poem”


Patiently she waits.
She knows I planned on going out;
I do every year. And it is here
that she waits. Her eyes still
twinkle after all this time
and I’m sure her smile will await me,
when I’m done globe trotting.
It’s not suspicion that keeps her
planted by the hearth; where else on earth
would she rather be? It keeps her as warm
as a big cozy hug, toasting her frigid toes
and melting her heart for my return.
The logs burn, and I yearn for my traveling
to cease and desist this all night party.
This North Pole girl is hearty; she loves the cold
and this Jolly Old Man, doing all she can
to keep me in this Christmas game.
She’s my missus; she call me Mr. “C”.
But to me, she gives my heart pause.
And it’s all because…I am Santa Claus.


Monday comes along, rainy.
Gloomy and overcast and all past
indiscretions overwhelm. At the helm
of the mastship, safely docked
in the harbor secure and warm, nestled.
Settled in from a long night’s journey
and yearning for a good and proper
good morning. No storm warning
is signaled, for danger does not prevail.
I set sail in your tranquil waters,
making my own waves come alive.
Passions churning, turning for port
time and again. Wrapped in the comfort
of a loving shore. The more the ship rocks
the more at peace we become.
The hum of the waters lapping,
the white caps rolling, rolling.
The wave crests. The ship finally rests.
Safe in the love of a good and gentle
woman, our day begins. Monday comes
along, rainy. Gloomy and overcast but
it does not cast a pall on the morning.
Loving each morning; every good morning.
No need for warning; the days begin.


Your pencil remains
pointed and true.
It is you who wields
in defense of others;
a true and trusted love.
A friend in the human scheme,
your words mean more
with each re-telling.
I am buying what you are selling.
You will be missed and
we are diminished for it.
For it is truly a sin:
when we give in, the terrorist wins!

***For my “hometown Home Girl” – you are loved!


Snuggled, huddled close,
Existing for this moment.
In an instance, the insistence
of my heart becomes
the only motivation I need.
It is indeed, and you are close
and wanted. Pulling you closer
still, my will takes over,
and desire is the fire that
smolders, but never burns.
My lips yearn for your flavor,
my eyes for your vision.
There is no division of a love shared.
My hand in your hair and soft caresses
brings your face thisclose and most
of our time is taken up in the moment.
It takes us, and surrounds us.
It becomes us and seasons us.
It devours our passion and regurgitates
even more passion. All consuming and
fulfilling. From moment to moment.
Until the next moment arrives.



You were the one my heart had known,
now this emptiness is painful.
And all compassion I had shown
had made this task more disdainful.

These days do pass in bitter dreams,
my soul is tearing at the seams,
And you still live here in my heart
forever pierced by Cupid’s dart.


This is my first foray into adding sound to my blog. One of the many forms my poetry takes is as lyrics to my music. Admittedly, my voice isn’t what it used to be (whose is really?). But the message comes through. I chose A DREAM FOR MY HEART as my first submission because we all have dreams we hold close, and whether we achieve them or not, we still strive for that blessed someday. The lyrics are posted. Click on the title for the audio link.


Melody and Lyrics by Walter J. Wojtanik – © 2006

I open my eyes to the challenge of life in this crazy world,
And I take on the task, seeking things that I lack, to carry me through.
So I keep my feet moving (never getting me there)
It just seems that people do nothing but stare
And I stay in one place looking up in the air
Searching for signs to clear up my mind, I wish for a dream.

It wasn’t so long that the sound of my song was light-hearted and free,
And the taste of success was as sweet as the rest and so easy to see.
So I’m striving for something I’ve wanted so bad
Putting all of me out there with all that I have
Hoping my gift will carry me far, right up to my star
I wish for my dream.

Give me a dream for my heart to cling to,
Believe in my chance to believe in myself
Dreams for a heart I can sing all my songs to
Give me a chance to believe in my dreams.

I’ll write you the words and I’ll sing from my soul
I’ll put you to music
Living this dream that I’ve cherished so long, for all of my life
So I’m list’ning for something, the beat of my heart,
Feeling determined, right from the star
I’ll take this emotion and leave them on stage, turning each page
I’m living my dream.

Give me a dream for my heart to cling to,
Believe in my chance to believe in myself
Dreams for a heart I can sing all my life to
Give me a chance to believe in my dreams.

Give me a dream for my heart to cling to,
Believe in my chance to believe in myself
Dreams for a heart I can sing all my life to
Give me a chance to believe in my dreams.

Give me a chance, give me a dream.


I had been asked to deliver the Eulogy for Jane. She lived a different life than most in the family. And at 90 years of age, she had earned it. She owed nothing to anyone. Half the family that still loved and accepted her for who she was, took comfort in my words. The ones that looked down their noses at her all their lives, rolled their eyes and did not appreciate my candor. Bottom line: I liked Aunt Jane for the reasons listed below. But also because there was plenty of reason to like her. She was a human being. I could relate to that!


Today we celebrate the life of Jane Burkowski. These brief words touch on one small part of that life. It was a life that she lived by her own dictates. Whether people understood or agreed with her grand plan did not matter. The fact is we are what we are, and Jane was who she was. Being quick to judge her took the spotlight off of our flaws and imperfections. But what can I say about a woman from my perspective of as “outsider” looking in?
What  do we remember about Jane? That she worked at AM&As? That she was an avid sports fan? She love the Buffalo Bills, the lay of the land at Fort Erie Racetrack and the ponies that played there. That she held her heritage and language and faith close to heart? That she loved her brother John, and although they had their differences the love always shone through. I’m sure there was a time when she probably could remember more about us than we did of her. Maybe we could have tried a little harder to achieve that familiarity. Jane’s life had become just a matter of existence; a daily cross to bear, unwittingly.

She did no more or no less than any of we do to survive in the life we were given. She was no better and no worse than anyone in this church. In her later days she was made comfortable and Jane was afforded the dignity of passing as she had lived. In her own way; in her own time.

On a personal note, I liked Aunt Jane. I liked her independence and I liked that she pushed people’s buttons. Good or bad, she got people to give her attention whether they intended to or not. I loved her laugh, a cross between a cackle and a cavort; when she was filled with joy, her presence was known.  My regret is in not having taken the time to know her just a little better. In my eyes, she was good people; better than most.
In the final analysis, you didn’t care that you had been forgotten by her. You embrace the brief flashes of lucidity that graced her and accept that life had caressed her heart.
This week, life stopped caressing Aunt Jane’s heart and placed her in the caring hands of her Heavenly Father, her Boze (Bo-zha – Polish for God/Jesus) to whom she talked and prayed. Her nephew Kenny Rompala cleared her way and held the gate opened for her as she returned to the eternal warmth of her mother, Frances, for whom she cared in her later years, and is once more in the embrace of her beloved father, Jan, and siblings Mary, Rose, Bertha and Emil. Thankfully, there remains an empty seat in this family grouping for the moment. Jane has gone to a better place where she will always remember and hurtful words cannot denigrate the life she chose to live. She is home again; a new home.  May God bless you, Aunt Jane. Rest in peace.


Why do you vex them so, Sestina Faire?
Lovely maiden with golden hair, a warming smile
and caring heart, I am startled by your beauty.
You carry your soul within your expression,
a gradual progression to the core of your being.
Seeing you amongst us gives me cause to cheer.

Soft and lilting, your voice is euphonic, a cheerful
blend of whisper and song. It is a fair
assessment of your strong sense of being
a part of the world that surrounds you. Your smile
is a wish for understanding, without remanding your expression
to the darkened pages of closed minds, hiding your beauty.

And it is such that something considered so beautiful
can scare her unsure suitor, her once cheerful
companion, to shy away from all for the expressed
purpose of rejecting her. It is not fair
that within her circles she is looked upon with as smile,
but when standing on her own, is denied her very being.

There is a great disservice brought about by being
callously ignored, oh wonderfully worded beauty.
Dearest Sestina, will you charm me with your smile?
Will you bring to this saddened heart, your cheer?
Loved and lovely, fairest of all the fair,
hear my song and all unconditional expression

that it conveys. It says much, although simply expressed.
You are the reason for my being
as poetic as my heart will allow; our love affair
is a thing of overwhelming beauty.
It becomes my life-long duty to warm you; to cheer
you and revere you. And blanketed by the shadow of your smile,

I offer you comfort in the knowing that your captivating and caressing smile
will live in my heart for as long as your name can be an expression
of truest love, Sestina Faire. I raise in toast a glass to cheer
your welcomed place in my world. You are a part of my being.
You are a lasting thing of extreme beauty,
You are the epitome of poetic love, Sestina Faire.

Bless me with your fair smile.
Make your beauty and expression of my heart.
Bring exuberant cheer to my very being, Dearest Sestina Faire.