My heart envisions what my eyes refuse to see. ~Poet Walter J Wojtanik
mortals embrace their foolish ways
midsummer nights in love-sick haze
exchanging hearts and passion’s kiss
offering all for a moment’s bliss.
the course of love ne’er doth run smooth
the journey is hard , such is our truth
be it time of sorrow, or lifetime of glee
Lord, what fools these mortals be!
© Walter J. Wojtanik – 2016
Feel the arms that reach out,
they are searching for you.
Here when the day is through
and summer nights hold us close.
No distance can separate, no matter
how late into the evening we stand,
one woman, one man and a grand view
of this night for two.
Summer breeze soothing, smoothing,
from over the lake and making shadows
and silhouettes dance in the moonlight.
I feel fine as long as it shines!
© Walter J. Wojtanik – 2016
POETIC BLOOMINGS “An Entertaining Summer” – Day #1: Summer Breeze
“What doesn’t kill you, will only make you stronger!”
A rear-ender this time,
all for the crime of following
the rules of the road to the letter.
I have felt better, and right now
I ache all over… again!
I ache all over! Head, and shoulders
knees and toes and neck and back
and a pain smack dab in the middle of
the pains I feel from the last accident.
If the Car Crash Hall of Fame
would give me my own wing,
I wouldn’t need to worry
about the ones I’ll earn the day
the next one takes me “home”
***I’m an hour out of the hospital after being hit from behind in an accident. Head, neck, shoulders and back are all affected and sore to painful. Nothing broken, just bruised and banged up. But once again I live to rhyme another day! Thank God!
DE MILO
Hey Venus,
goddess of love
you are the epitome to me.
I can see your beauty clearly;
your image is dearly cherished.
Baby, you’ve got it!
You are the queen,
be you Shocking Blue,
or in Blue Jeans.
So Venus if you will,
thrill me with a love
who shares your charms.
(But be sure she has two arms?)
MIO NONNO
Teach me aged one,
show me the ways of life!
I am young and you are
here to guide me in this world.
Times are changing,
yet it is all so new to me.
I depend on you to be.
Teach me aged one.
Soon you will be
too old and I will be
prepared to care for you,
show me the ways of life!
I cherish your gentility.
You have given so much
and I wish to help you now.
I am young and you are
most deserving to be cared
for and celebrated. I am
elated that it was you who was
here to guide me in this world.
MARCVS
Get A grippa,
mighty warrior
of noble Roman stock.
Yovr featvres are chiseled,
a classic nose,
strong chin,
probing eyes
fixed in seriovs stare.
Jvst one qvestion.
Who does yovr hair?
“See you next season!” she would call,
excitedly boarding the bus for home.
It was a joy to envision that warm smile
through cold winter nights, counting the days
to when Summer replays her refrain. The anticipation
made the Winters seem so cold and long.
Camp Good Days made a special time for sick children who long
for the adventures that their conditions would not allow. Call
it a service. Think labor of love! Young folk in this station
battling Hodgkin Lymphoma, living with cerebral palsy, Downs Syndrome,
find a Summer home here. And for one so dear, Leukemia filled her days.
And yet she was never fully dressed without her beaming smile.
As I said, a labor of love, but never a chore – service with a smile,
you can’t call it work if it’s something you love. It wasn’t too long
ago that Kathleen was a “camper”. Becoming a counselor, she spent Summer days
giving back the love she had long received. I believe it kept her whole. Call
her a good soul; a saint. An angel when the message came from her home.
Katie had taken a turn. In her mother’s voice…consternation.
For all she had anticipated,
I could find no elation; no celebration for the new year. No smile
to brighten sour days. No way to remove the shackles of home
for the escape the camp afforded. No boarding for the long
bus ride – songs and secrets, conversations silenced. The call
of roll without a familiar ring. A different Camp Good Days,
without the friend made and nurtured through Summer days.
In many ways, it feels strangely isolated,
yet knowing Kathleen answered the life’s Last Call
with her usual grace and humility, made me smile
at least briefly. She was chiefly responsible for my long
tenure as a counselor at a camp that gave these kids a home
away from home. And it felt like home.
There is a labor of love to perform as I remember the days
when Katie made her illness disappear a little, even though not for long.
We had a song that the kids sang that celebrated
the life they embraced. Each word will be laced with her smile.
Right up until Kathleen’s “See you next season!” call!
Children need a place that they can call sanctuary; a home.
An brief escape from their realities to fill their days with smiles.
For Camp Good Days, a moment long anticipated.
(C) Walter J Wojtanik, 2014
I am out in the rain,
therefore, I think that I am all wet.
If it gets any more violent, I will relent
and run for cover. But I’m a lover
of a good rain shower. It can rain
for hours and the flowers will be
the better for it. I do not abhor it.
An eighty percent chance that rain
would come. Odds were not good;
it surely would rain. But then again,
I will take the chance. I’ll hear the rhythm
of the rain and dance. I think I am wet.
Therefore it is raining stronger.
I hope it rains much longer!
(C) Walter J Wojtanik, 2014
The best of both worlds, an escape.
For a day or a week, the peace you seek
awaits you. It takes you far away
while keeping you near. It is here
you can pitch a tent and reinvent your psyche,
an isolated place near the lake. It makes
your nerves settle and sends your mettle packing.
You’re only lacking for convenience.
Nearby is Darien Lake amusement park, a stark culture shift
from natural to man-made mayhem. Thrill rides,
hiding spots for picnic lunches and bunches
of kiosks and games; some of the names escape me.
Amphitheater for big name acts; they really pack them in.
Set betwixt Buffalo and Batavia, a short ride for a long day’s
journey to joy. Every man, woman, girl and boy knows
that by the close of day, they’ve seen something good.
(C) Walter J Wojtanik, 2014
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 
Morning becomes her,
she languishes like the sun
rising to fill him with her warmth.
She owns his heart.
His heart is strong,
holding her closely to his chest.
She echoes his beat –
the pulse is shared together.
Shared, together love grows
in the rising of emotions.
The day begins in her embrace.
Morning becomes her.
(C) Walter J Wojtanik, 2014