LIVINGSTON

In the auburn sky, a lone gull flies
seeking perfection and heights yet attained
no matter how hard he tried and strained.
In the auburn sky a lone gull flies

seeking perfection and heights yet attained,
he was shunned by his feathered peers,
and it became one of his greatest fears –
seeking perfection, heights yet attained.

He was shunned by his feathered peers,
so, he flew off to find the Great Gull above
and the lesson he learned was to work on love.
He was shunned by his feathered peers

so, he flew to find the Great Gull above.
He kept working on love with the hope to uncover
the secret that he wished to discover.
So, he flew in search of the Great Gull above.

He kept working on love with the hope to uncover
the purest love. Deserved respect. Forgiveness.
A life well lived, never settling for less.
He kept working on love with the hope to uncover.

In the auburn sky, a lone gull flies.
Seeking perfection and heights yet attained
no matter how hard he tried and strained.
In the auburn sky, a lone gull flies.

(C) Walter J Wojtanik – 2019

A Top Ten poem for the Catena Rondo Challenge at Poetic Asides

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CELEBRATE HANAMI – CHERRY BLOSSOM FESTIVAL

Purple mountain majesty
Pink cherry blossom at bloom.
Waterfall feeds stream,
Reflect azure sky.
Celebrate beauty of life.

© Walter J Wojtanik – 2019

Written for Wednesday Muse

A TOUCH OF THE GRAPE

Here’s your jumpsuit,
put on these shoes,
read my manifesto,
search it for clues.

I’m the second coming,
and the third time’s the charm,
let me tattoo my signet
there on your arm.

Commune with nature,
commune with each other.
Come to my commune
it’s unlike any other.

The grounds of the compound
will keep us secluded
far from the scrutiny
where no one intrudes.

Watch for the mother ship,
hail to the comet,
chow down on these herbs,
they’ll make you vomit.

And here’s the good news,
we’re all going to heaven,
one group together,
film at eleven.

Just drink this grape drink
to quench your life’s thirst.
The line forms on the right,
which of you will go first?

(C) Walter J Wojtanik – 2019

Poetic Asides with Robert Lee Brewer Prompt #477 – “Leap of Faith” Poem

THE TWIGLETS #119 – DOWNPOUR OF BIRDSONG

Notes falling in cascade,
a steady flow tailor-made
for a day such as this.
Pure bliss in the melody given,
driven by nature’s call
and all the breath a bird
could muster in this fluster
of song. A bird lives to sing.
They bring joy to this nature-boy.

© Walter J Wojtanik – 2019

Written for The Twiglets #119 – Downpour of Birdsong

IN THE GENTLE BREATH OF SPRING

All winter we’ve awaited Spring’s arrival,
at first just a turn of the calendar page.
It seems always a matter of survival.
And although winter’s bite remains at this stage,
Spring will rise at last to conquer her rival.
The moderation of her warmth will quell its rage,
and winter’s memory will be trivial.
In the gentle breath of Spring we will engage.
(C) Walter J Wojtanik – 2019
A STRAMBOTTO Poem featured at Poetic Asides with Robert Lee Brewer

RIDING THE WAVES OF A NEW DAY

The sky is clear,
pristine and calm.
The breezes soothing.
Warm.
No storm could invade,
nothing to throw shade on this new day.
It is early and the swirling
surf is crisp,
the waves lap the shore
tasting all flavors within.
I begin, board in tow,
steps deliberate.
Slow. No one near;
the sky is clear.
The surf beckons,
it reckons to take me
for the ride of my life.
My board is waxed and
it wanes in the bob of eternity.
The waves and me,
I paddle to the crest
in waters way over my chest.
Well over my head instead.
Giving me all that I can take.
I watch the pipe form.
I think I’ve made a mistake.

(C) Walter J Wojtanik – 2019

Poetic Asides with Robert Lee Brewer – Prompt #475: Mode of Travel

THE TWIGLETS #118 – MAMA SAID

Like a box of chocolates, mama said,
that’s what life was like.
Like floating around on a breeze, mama said.

Mama said we all have a destiny,
but I don’t know about that!
You have to do the best, mama said,

with all God gave you. Do the best.
Mama said stupid is as stupid does.
I’m not a smart man.

We’ll live ‘til we die. Mama said,
dying is a part of life.
That’s all I have to say about that.

(C) Walter J Wojtanik – 2019

**A Found poem from “Forrest Gump”

The Twiglets #118 – Mama Said

DEMENTED

“His mind’s not right” my mother would say,
and my father was apt to agree.
“He keeps to himself too much in a way“,
a strange little man there, you see.

And my father was apt to agree,
that something inside his boy festered,
a strange little man there, you see,
who loves to keep darkly sequestered.

That something inside their boy festered,
certainly was not the issue,
“Who loves to keep darkly sequestered?”
mother asked as she reached for a tissue.

Certainly, was not the issue
that my mind worked in mysterious ways?
Mother asked as she reached for a tissue,
“Where does that boy go to these days?”

Yes, my mind worked in mysterious ways
but, deep in my thoughts there was action.
Where does that boy go to these days,
was a quest for some self-satisfaction.

Deep in my thoughts there was action,
my pen at a feverish pitch,
this quest for some self satisfaction
would placate my poetic itch.

My pen at a feverish pitch
to pen pantoum and other such poems,
would placate my poetic itch,
“If they read what I write, they would know them”

To pen pantoum and other poetry?
“His mind’s not right” they would say.
If they read what I write, they would know me.
I kept to myself too much in a way.

(C) Walter J Wojtanik – 2019

Offered at dVerse Poets Pub – A Piece of Written Art

A GIFT STITCHED AND BOUND

It must be her breeding.
My baby girl was made for reading.
Put a book in her hands
and she’ll have a grand time.
She loves to imagine places,
personalities and faces,
and loves filling the spaces
on her overflowing shelves.
She herself has me figured,
a hard cover gift to bring home
to her poet dad. Not too bad
for one so enamored of books
she found a job in her new Canadian home,
hawking tomes for folks of her mind,
she specializes in hard to find editions,
her position is if she can hold it
in her hand, a book surely can
entertain her. A quick learner,
a page turner. She likes reading.
It must be her breeding.

© Walter J. Wojtanik – 2019

Poetic Asides with Robert Lee Brewer – Prompt #474: Gift

PORTRAIT

In the misty shadows, she walks
a specter, a flash of paint in
an obscure painting,
A beauty in memory,
or an imagined smile.
A man could surely fall
for the mystic miss,
a kiss in waiting and fading
fast. Every last encounter
with her could be just that.
Alluring and luring you
to the wind-torn seas,
breezes to gusts and
a bluster of rapid heartbeats,
precious and scary to think
she keeps you on the brink
of your demise. You’d be wise
to walk away and yet you stay.
Love trapped within her portrait,
and Jennie’s been dead for years!

© Walter J Wojtanik, 2019

Movie: “A Portrait of Jennie” – Joseph Cotten and Jennifer Jones

Red Wolf Prompts – Prompt #426: Borrowed Poetry