…and all at once, the rain had ceased.
The length of sunshine has increased.
When did my daughters grow so quickly?
Why has it left me feeling sickly

when the warmth of Spring emerges?
Comfort in this season’s surges.
Little girls become young women
and all the changes from within –

blossoms having rooted now bloom,
fragrant flowers fill up the room.
Decorating each life they touch,
truly knowing they mean so much.

Life’s bouquet gathered together,
flourishing in all kinds of weather,
Grown in love to know what life means;
ever-growing, evergreen!

© Walter J. Wojtanik


6/8 BEAT

Beatles 1964
Beatles 1964


It started with a beat.
The rhythm moved your feet and you
found yourself lost. It’s true,
with the first “Love Me Do” it seemed
that no one could have dreamed
of four who would have teamed on stage
to perpetrate this rage,
turn a historic page; music,
melodies and lyrics to give
words by which we could live above
all else, words laced with love
and all we need is love, for sure.


(C) Copyright Walter J Wojtanik – 2014


Symptoms came to the fore
knocking me to the floor. A knee
and a supplicant plea
were all that made me see the pain
wasn’t just in my brain,
but it did leave me drained and scared.
If I had only dared,
then I might have been spared this fate.
And it’s never too late
(or so they say). I wait for word,
but so far all I’ve heard’s
something a little bird told me.
Right now it’s wait and see
what this next biopsy will show.
The process is so slow
as far as these things go. Can’t wait
(I hope we’re not too late).


Sadness, like a great weight
draws downward and your fate, although
not sealed, feels so.
And when you fall so low, nothing
can make your sad heart sing;
there’s no gladness to bring you hope,
only that downward slope.
No ambition; you mope around
clutching to this profound
sensation which confounds your mind
and it is then you find
just one way to unwind. You sleep.
The only way to keep
from going off the deep end, friend.
It’s in the very end
Your brain chooses to send a test.
Accept and do your best,
Or resign to deep rest, depressed.


She stands in silhouette
in the rain, and she’s wet and cold,
it’s as if she’s been told
it would wash away old feelings
with which she’s been dealing.
Each day passing, stealing desire –
quenching passion’s fire;
the unbridled pyre of love.
She’s never been above
giving herself a shove forward,
head over feet. It’s hard
to think that her reward was tin,
for she held gold within,
a prize no man could win, nor get;
she stands in silhouette.


Against the muted sky
shades of gray fill my eye and show
all that I need to know.
The lesson makes me grow surer
that all I ask from her
are thoughts that are as pure as she,
and all she asks from me
is the wisdom to see her soul.
Oh, Learned One, control
every step towards the goal I seek,
for I am truly meek,
and I pray for this weak moment
to show me I am bent
on becoming the gent whose heart,
although miles apart,
can offer just the start it needs.
It has planted the seeds
that will grow through the weeds and fly
against the muted sky.

© Walt Wojtanik 2012