MORE KISSES ON THE BOTTOM

Dear Walter,

I’ve noticed you’ve been gone too long.
So I decided to sit right down to write this.
I miss your smile. And it has been a while
since we truly shared some quality time.
I’m staying busy. It has truly been
a dizzying spring.
And here’s the thing,
it’s bummer that we disconnected.
I suspect you’ve been dejected,
but I promise we’ll find yourself in time,
and hopefully soon.
It’s just that I noticed that you are less
active than usual. Your casual attitude
perplexes me, really vexes me.
Was it something in your head?
I can understand that a man of words
can get this absurd frustration that
his conversation skills have faltered;
that such words would go unheard,
sometimes sour like bad curd.
They can be for the birds,
as you so clearly have demonstrated
time and time again!
You can’t please everyone
if you can’t please yourself.
Go back to basics;
you write what you like, like back in the day.
Find what it is you have to say. You’ll always
have a way with words. Use them judiciously.
Suspiciously view the words of others.
Those who love you, will feed on your muse
and choose to peruse you.
They will choose YOU. Let loose.
Write when time and life allows.
And always follow your heart. Start by writing
a letter to yourself. Give yourself  permission
to place your words of wit on notice.
Have a wonderful time. Wish you were here!

Signed, Walter

XXX

(C) Walter J Wojtanik – 2018

CRITICAL CONDITION

The results from the lab were in, but they could not detect any regret in my voice. It had been my choice to stand by you; friends together, a second chance for us to right what so often had gone  wrong, one last time. Taking note of your fragility and your need for constant rest, the best I could do was to care for you and be true to our connection for your protection and my own. My conscience would not allow me to make that same mistake, where I took leave of my senses and you. Translated: your illness made me sick.

The SUNDAY WHIRL -  Wordle #117
The SUNDAY WHIRL –
Wordle #117

Copyright Walter J. Wojtanik 2013

Written for THE SUNDAY WHIRL – Wordle #117

Offered at POETS UNITED – Poetry Pantry #158

APNEA

A good night’s sleep is all I crave.
But, I have become a slave to my disorder.
Limbs once nimble now churn as I burn
the midnight oil. I toil each night
seeking rapture. But I have been captured
by my demon and random thoughts swirl
as if strewn by the wind of memory.
Heart beating faster, a runaway freight train
through the prairie of my barren soul
with no control of my own.
I cough and groan, throat emitted as I spit
in a foaming fit of rage, roaming the halls madly.
Sadly, I’m ready for a padded vault.
It is Disruptive Sleep Apnea’s fault.

© Copyright Walter J. Wojtanik – 2013

SUNDAY WHIRL - Wordle #111
SUNDAY WHIRL –
Wordle #111

Written for the SUNDAY WHIRL – Wordle # 111

and presented at POETS UNITED – Poetry Pantry #153

also Khara House’s 30 x 30 Challenge – Day 2 – Slumber

POLYCYTHEMIA

107The high red blood cell count
tipped them off as it was detected
pulsing through his veins;
a thunderous fibrillation.
Like a thousand messages dispatched
to his outer extremities, all the charm
and amenities of life seem wasted
like a dish of soup tasted and left uneaten.
Spirit beaten and spitting blood,
the front dressing, crimson soaked,
spoke of his sadly grave condition.

© Copyright Walter J. Wojtanik – 2013

Written for THE SUNDAY WHIRL – Wordle #107