DEAR JOHN (YOU’RE NO LONGER WANTED)

You’ve been dispatched,
snatched from the jaws of romantic victory.
But you could see the writing on the wall,
you’ve taken a fall most precarious,
and she was serious with her missive.
You’ve been dismissed,
given the big kiss-off. You scoff
but know your indignation was born
of your stagnation. You floundered,
rounded third and were thrown out at home.
You saw it coming, it had been drumming
on your nerves and that curve ball blew past you.
You’re finished. You’re through. She’s moved on,
so should you! Send packing, lacking any reason.
Her love’s been recanted, dear John.
You’re no longer wanted.
Hit the road, Jack!

© Walter J. Wojtanik – 2017

Quickly – Make it easy on yourself

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POEM STARTING WITH A LINE BY ROD McKUEN

thank you
for kissing me in the elevator last night.

two strangers passing as ships
      different floors…
           different mores…

over your shoulder
reaching to press

         your scent: fragrant

lips vagrantly brushing
      eyes searching
           cheeks flushing/blushing

lips meeting fully
     no greeting exchanged.

i didn’t even catch your name!

© Walter J Wojtanik

– The first line was taken from Rod McKuen’s poem, “Another Thank You”
from his collection “Twelve Years of Christmas”

Poetic Asides – Prompt #414: Connection

SHE INTOXICATES

“Take your baby by the wrist
And in her mouth, an amethyst
And in her eyes, two sapphires blue
And you need her and she needs you
And you need her and she needs you.”

~‘Dance Hall Days’ Lyric – Wang Chung

She stirs your longing,
an incantation, your libation
sipped and savored
flavored by the grape
and sharing its purple hue.
You become inebriate
as you wait for her effect to fade
and you’ve made your vow
as to how to even sober up
from your love filled stupor.
Or if you even wish to.
So you await her last call, all you know
is that she has become your addiction;
your heart’s true affliction.
Your dereliction is complete,
And your heart repeats, you need her
and she needs you.

© Walter J. Wojtanik – 2017

dVerse Poets Pub – Poetics: This One’s For You

The lyric contains amethyst which is my birthstone. The Greeks believed amethyst kept you from becoming inebriated.

AS LONG AS YOU REMAIN

As long as you remain in my heart,
you are never gone. You are
the one who has brightened my days
always and in all ways.

I can never miss you.
You are never gone. You are
what a smile is to a bad day
always and in all ways.

I hold you here where my heart resides
deep inside, you are never gone.
You are the one that had become
a habit I couldn’t break. It would take

as long to purge you from that place
as it would take to traverse space
and come back here safe and sound. I have found
the seed you had planted continues to blossom.

No gloom befalls me. You enthrall me
as you always have, all ways and forever.
You are never gone, as long as I breathe.
I believe in the joy of you! It’s true.
As long as you remain.

© Walter J. Wojtanik – 2017

Poems of Garden Gnomes – Lingering

 

SEVENLING (OUR HEARTS GO OUT)

Our hearts go out to the victims of destruction
knowing reconstruction will be long and hard.
Our hearts are heavy for the losses they encounter.

We can offer our thoughts and prayers
We can give financial assistance.
but no amount of resistance will let us

ever forget, we are all in God’s hands

(C) Walter J. Wojtanik – 2017

Poems of Garden Gnomes – Form Friday: Sevenling

LOVE COMES HOME

He felt the weight of life’s chain,
each link forged from his misdeeds.
It was a sure sign of his humility
as the gravity of his actions
mirrored the draw it had upon
each metal link, pulling both downward.

The constant refrain in his life repeated,
it greeted his ears and heart
whenever he would start to forget
where it was both belonged. Home had a claim
upon his presence; a place to plant his roots to grow
tall and strong, invariably to stand alone.

But the weight of his despair played heavily
on each tenuous branch; every creak and crack
triggers a spray of memory to reign down.
He relishes the opportunity to make a new home,
feeling how her love swells within him
to grittle his passion; to flick his stubbornness.

© Walter J. Wojtanik – 2017

Poetic Asides – Prompt #408: Second Home

 

CRAZY LOVE

Crazy love.
It will turn your head
and leave you for dead.
It will lay in your bed
and toss and turn
while you yearn
for a gentle touch
that you need so much
to nurture and such.
But crazy love is a crutch.
you rely on its support
from cohort to cohort,
and it is a last resort
for a crippled heart.
You start to stumble,
feel less humble
and you stammer and mumble
familiar words she had heard
that are sour like curds
of rotten cheese.
Puts you to your knees
begging pretty please,
as you cough and wheeze
(and whine and sneeze)
thinking her bees knees
will shake your trees.
I’ve heard it said
we’d be out of our head,
or that’s what I read
(or just what you dread!)
But, you think I’m too lazy
and this is crazy.
Crazy love.
It will give a thrill,
then make you ill
(and there is no pill
to kill this bug)
No kiss, no hug,
nor roll on the rug,
just a steady tug
on your heart strings,
a true heart attack
It will always bring you back.
Crazy love!

(C) Walter J. Wojtanik

Poems of Garden Gnomes – Put a Little Love in Your Heart

DELIVERED

“Every time I told you I was just passing through
What my heart didn’t know was all roads lead to you.”
~ Chicago – All Roads Lead To You Lyrics

Not a young man, yet my heart still tends to roam.
Follow my heart. The truth is found within
something beautiful and more precious than gold.
I behold your beauty and it caresses my heart.
You, an angel transfixed; a mixture of light and shadow,
a soothing vision;
a memory that lives within me.

‘When did you strike my heart?’ my mind asks!
I delve into the depths of these thoughts, a
fraid of where they lead and I turn away.
But this voice from the inner sanctum of my spirit
frees me and my mind sees.
Your beauty lives in the sideways glances
of tired eyes burned into their memory,
Your light travels beyond your womanly realm.
In dreams of wonder you rest.
I desire your heart, a most cherished dream,
passionate and determined.
The dream I dream is a journey,
I yearn to fill the space beside you as you sleep.

I am contrite,
a man not ashamed to soil his hands,
never one to rest,
doing his best to satisfy.
Willing to die for the love he bears.
I do not dare deny any man his share.
Over the distant miles, you touch me.
Your whispered prayers grace my ears.
I carry my heart to you, the one from whom I withdrew.
It is there where I belong.
My steps beat a path, rising and falling; a steady pace.
Every place I seek it, my heart confirms it is true.
All roads lead to you!

© Walter J Wojtanik

dVerse Poets Pub – Tuesday Poetics: Musical Muse

 

MINE TO DISCOVER

I hover high above the promenade.
It is odd I hadn’t thought this
before. A Peace Tower bore
a gift of miles for me to view.

The sky was bright.
A bit of a chill but I was alright
to view this Ottawa city
on this August morn.

I was not born here,
but it is clear I could belong here.
An international capital
of great expanse,

I am in a trance, mesmerized;
beauty and tradition mark her
and sparks her allure.
I am sure I could belong here.

Allegiance is strong here,
Canadian seat replete
with history’s retelling,
pride swelling deeply for this place,

genteel and as real as I can tell,
a nice place to dwell as well
as visit. Is it the True North beckoning?
I am reckoning that this is

The start of another great foreign affair.
My daughter will soon be there
to take up a life as a wife.
And between us two, it is true.

I could belong here.

(c) Walter J Wojtanik

MAKING ROOM FOR WHAT MATTERS

A house full of one time dreams
and all the minutia gathered over the years
of cheer, fears and heartfelt tears,
becomes a nearly empty nest at best.
And deep in my chest all the “memories”
assigned and attached to each book or toy
are now being packaged for a new girl
or boy. Photographs serve to preserve
all the moments in cascade,
a parade of smiles tinged with sadness.
Another box taped and secured,
carried to the car, for the recycle bin,
for reuse or (for trash); no cash
value for one man’s trash
(once held as treasures)
no pleasure in fixing what has needed “repair”
It is there where reality resides,
it hides in every pang and tug
on a b-flat heart string,
it brings me to this: once I dispose
of these bins full of slightly worn clothes,
I’ll know the girls are truly gone,
dispatched to hatch memory preserves
of their own making, taking a small seed
to nurture future purging like this.
The realization says this place is becoming
too big for just two. It is true you can’t go home
again. But would it kill you to visit a bit more?