I come and go,
refusing to go Moe Slowly
as opposed to Miz Quickly (or dead).
I’ll opt instead to wax poetic,
wax my moustache
(no Brazilian bikini wax for me)
and return when this briar patch
reopens for word play. To this day
it’s one of the few I’ll return to,
to celebrate you with the folded
ears and wondrous wit.
If this is it, it was fun.
If it’s not done, it was still a blast
and I pledge to come back every last
reincarnation of Quickly nation
wherever in tarnation that might be
(I believe it’s somewhere in Tennessee)
I’d be relieved if you’d drop a line
(or a word here or there)
to say all is okay and when ready
to resume, presume I’ll be there!

© Walter J. Wojtanik

Quickly – Take A Knee




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

Based on:


The fruit fly population grows.
It knows the bananas are going bad.
It’s sad that this source of potassium
and carbohydrates suffers such a fate.
The skins are slimy and necromantic,
it is usually automatic they are trash.
But, too much cash goes into their
procurement. And those damn flies
are lured to their fragrance.
A microscopic happy dance.
Oh boy. I think that blast of banana
has gone to my head. I dread…
Hey, wait a minute. That’s half-baked.
There’s bread where those buggers breed.
From mush to batter to bread.
A trifle better instead! Blackened bananas
make me grin. It’s a sin to let them waste.
They’d be much, much better around my waist!

© Walter J Wojtanik – 2017

Quickly – Whoop-ti-do


Garfunkel drops a chord
and it bandies about until shards
slice the air like a muted whisper.
Old friends like darkness, shroud.
No crowds, no crying out louds,
no opinions voiced or foisted upon us.
I take a scrap for a souvenir,
and use it to inspire my next tirade.
Visions softly weeping in
their vacuumed void seem annoyed.

© Walter J. Wojtanik – 2017

Quickly – Dumpster Dive

My “scrap” line used: Silence falls and breaks


Elfin folk play pat-a-cake,
a tradition passed down
from small hands to small hands.
Passing time with elfin rhyme
sing-a-song of sixpence
and used as a self-defense,
they play. They never stray
from their merriment,
these scary men of minuscule means.
Caught in a blur, an inky stain
where the stinky little buggers
fester. They are sequestered
in their hovel homes,
pat-a-caking til the cows come.

(C) Walter J. Wojtanik – 2017

Quickly – Visual


I had become chair.
Not a chair,
not the chair,
just chair.
Anybody can chair
if they’re in the mood,
Even if you dare,
how now brown chair?
I have longed to come to chair
for it is there
where a bit of sit
will fit my time
as I rhyme there about
chair. For it has been
second chair on the right
and straight on into the foyer.
Boy, oh boy how can anyone bear
to not need to chair,
I swear it’s a far, far better chair
than I’ve ever dared to care.
So in the corner I will sit
forthwith and forsooth
and give a hoot for
(as long as I’m chairished)

(C) Walter J. Wojtanik

Quickly – Schedule Revision: Chair


Eager to Create Blue-Collar Jobs, a Small Business Struggles

I love to work.
But, it is always work.
Hard, demeaning,
satisfying, trying,
seemingly endless.
Cutting like a hot knife
through spoiled cheese;
stinking to high heaven.
I’m thinking about how my father
would come home from his clerk
position at the steel plant roll shop.
Yet, I can’t recall if his collar was
white, or blue or chartreuse,
(there’s no use thinking too deeply)
All I knew is we were never without,
food, or clothing or shelter
from his sometimes helter-skelter inebriation.
This was our life station. Children
of a once-steel town. Not down on our luck,
just lucky to be. We could see up from there
and that became our fervent goal,
to leave my heart and soul to the hometown
and expecting to escape with the rest of me intact!

© Walter J. Wojtanik – 2017

Quickly 9/5/17 – Write Hard

Poems of Garden Gnomes – Getting to Work


Please don’t call me a drunkard,
it’ll only make me sore.
I much prefer “inebriate”
while I’m down here on the floor.

I’m usually an upright guy,
right down to the core,
but, my balance slides when I imbibe,
while I’m down here on the floor.

I haven’t gotten up in months,
the dust bunnies are a bore,
I hoped to sober up real soon
while I’m down here on the floor.

I have no use for labels,
I’ll show you to the door
if I could reach the table
from down here on the floor.

Well, today’s the anniversary,
I might go down in lore
and be that guy who yes, did lie
a whole year on the floor!

© Walter J. Wojtanik – 2017

Quickly – Open the Book: Year of the Flood



A small band of Brits what writ
a cavalcade of skits and silly things,
sometimes men dressed as ladies in frilly things
doing silly walks down Bourbon Street.
Giant cartoon feet stepping to flatten
bystanders as they meander aimlessly,
shamelessly exposing their naughty parts,
dressed as lumberjacks and tossing Spam
at the troupe of Vikings wailing, no sailing
today for the Camembert is a bit runny.
Saying funny things to all named Bruce.
(We’re all named Bruce!) Marching
down the thoroughfare with galloping coconuts
at the ready and a steady chant of “Ni, Ni, Ni”!
Dead ex-parrots pining for the fiord!
Bringing disorder to the French Quarter
(nobody expects the Spanish Inquisition)
as the locals taunt them a second time.
Searching for the Grail without fail,
silly twits, a band of Brits! Run Away!
They don’t really like Spam! Spam! Spam! Spam!
…And now for something completely different!

© Walter J. Wojtanik – 2017

Quickly – Funny Thing Happened


booksaleStacks and stacks
of books without racks,
hard covered and paperbacks.

Their conditions are fine
all titled on their spines,
(But none of them are mine.)

Grand adventures to set sail,
grand words without fail,
it looks like they’re all for sale.

There’s romance novels and reference tomes,
historical tales of where the buffalo roam,
some hysterical farce, try taking one home.

Get a book, by hook or by crook,
Get a great deal, come take a look!
It’s a steal, come buy a book!

© Walter J. Wojtanik – 2017

Quickly – Quickly, Simply