NIGHT FALLS

Evening descends like a hushed silence,
and tranquility is its marker.
Her song is a lilting lullaby
in the shadows of the night.
There’s no threat of violence
as the midnight sky grows much darker.
The constellations fill the sky
contradicting darkness, bringing light.

© Walter J Wojtanik -2019

Offered at:
Poetic Asides: Cyhydedd Naw Ban (Welsh Poetry Form)

and

dVerse Poets Pub: Quadrille – …and the most beautiful words are…  

tranquility

A variation of the form written as a companion piece to “Comes the Morning”

COMES THE MORNING

Morning arrives like a soft whisper.
As he prepared to leave, he’ll kiss her

and he’ll wish her a wonderful day.
She coos through sleepy dreams and she’ll say

“Love you!”, an incoherent mumble
that he almost hears as he stumbles

through the kitchen door and heads for work.
Waking to her presence is a perk

that he has been gifted. She’s his prize
that he sees through appreciative eyes.

He feels fortune has smiled on him,
and it surely has. It’s not a whim.

Morning arrives, a brand-new blessing.
It will be a good day, he’s guessing.

(C) Walter J Wojtanik – 2019

Poetic Asides with Robert Lee Brewer – Cyhydedd Naw Ban (Welsh

poetic form)

NO. 1 – THE LARCH

A sad young man was not happy,
he thought his life to be quite crappy.
He seemed to have this crazy need
to be the very best indeed.
He struggled hard to be the best,
to bounce life’s “bullets” off his chest.
To reach the very top, to him
was more than just a crazy whim.

A wise man gave him some advice
and told the boy to just think twice.
He pointed to a stately tree,
(it looked quite like a Larch to he).
He challenged the boy to reach the top,
climb to the highest height, then stop.
The boy adhered to his command
and climbed the tree, hand over hand.

Then, there was not another branch to breech.
The young man had climbed up each
spindly branch. Sometimes his footing was unsure,
but thought the man’s advice was pure.
He reached the very top did he,
to see as far as the eye could see.
He paused a moment, looked around
and then the man waved the boy down.

As the two stood side by side,
the boy and his sage old life guide
both looked up to view the span
and here’s where the lesson soon began.
“Tell me, lad, what did you find?”
He stood in silence, wracked his mind
and started to explain his revelation
from high up in that elevation.

“When I reached the very top I saw
that my ambition had one flaw.”
And this boy who was once cynical
found out when he had reached the pinnacle
that he could not climb any higher
he was atop of life’s high wire.
After a while he grew quite bored
and he feared if he would slip he’d soar

to the ground, to a bad ending.
And in that, there was no defending
where he thought he needed to be.
He just needed to do his best you see,
and not something that was not sustainable,
the reasoning is quite explainable.
“You can only go so high, my boy,
some do go higher, I won’t lie,

but there is peril in that decision,
you could be met with sad derision.
Just be the best you that you can be
and those around you sure will see,
that you can keep your head and all
and will not take that tragic fall.”
The boy thought and nodded, then gave a grin
and knew he should agree with him.

MORAL: Be happy with what this life will give,
for that’s the only way to live!

 

(C) Walter J Wojtanik – 2019

THE MINISTRY OF SILLY RUMOURS

Excuse me, is this the rumour room?
Who told you that? That is a vicious lie.
I was told to come here to file a rumour.
You were not! That is completely false!
But that’s what it says on your door!
You assume that is my door,
but I’ve never seen it before!
It’s the only way in or out!
You’ve no idea what you’re saying,
that’s a bold-faced fallacy!
No it’s not! It says right there,
“Ministry of Silly Rumours”
That’s a complete fabrication,
you just made that up!
I did not! The directory even indicates…
OH, THE DIRECTORY! Big rot!
I’m telling everyone that you wet the bed!
I do not, that’s a horrible rumour!
I heard that you do! Do you deny it?
Yes! Yes I deny it! Yes. No!
But it was just a wee tinkle.
That’s how rumours get spread?
You’re a silly, silly person!

(c) Walter J Wojtanik-2019

Written for Poetic Asides Prompt #493 – Rumor

**

Also see:

THE KREWE OF PYTHON

TELLING STORIES OUT OF SCHOOL

 You didn’t hear it from me,
but I hear tell that all hell will break loose
if we choose to ignore the clues.
I mean, I have a sense of humour
but rumour has it that what is coming
down the pike will spike off the charts
so we better start paying it heed.
We’re going to need a year’s supply
of snacks and goodies
(Every foodie need snacks and goodies)
toasty warm hoodies
& nice cozy footies for the coming fallout.
The chill will surely kill the vegetation
and the whole damn nation will be affected.
We’ve elected to ignore all the signs.
It will make your head spin. It does mine
anyway. One of these days it may be true,
but don’t mind me, I’m just a fool 

telling stories out of school. 

Written for Poetic Asides Prompt #493 – Rumor

ON THE BIRTH OF SOMETHING SO BEAUTIFUL

Brooklyn Ariel

The bond we’ve made was instant
and permanent, this haggard poet gent
and you, my darling granddaughter.
I sparkle when I am in your light,
a bright beacon in a world in need
of your luminescence. I get the chance
to hold you close. You look intently
as I gently tell you how much you’ve
given in the short time we’ve been together.
Your skin is so soft, mine the coarseness of leather
yet we complement each other sweetly.
Wrapped neatly in a swaddle, you flutter
and coo, you blink and explore, and what’s more
you smile, a contented little lass
(proving it’s not gas), and I melt.
I haven’t felt this joy since your mother
and aunt were born. But on this morn,
it is you, Brooklyn, who has brought beauty
into this tired life. You’ve so much to learn,
and I yearn to teach you all I can. Until then,
I will revel in something so beautiful!

© Walter J Wojtanik – 2019

Written to Poetic Asides Prompt # 484 – On ______

MARGARET ATWOOD CONTINUED

You begin this way:
this is your hand,
this is your eye…

…It begins, it has an end,
this is what you will
come back to, this is your hand.

~from Margaret Atwood’s poem “You Begin”

And so I continue!

This is my poem.
These are my words.
This is the time of night
where sleep beckons. I sit
fingers to keyboard on a silent eve.
This is my shirt; it has no sleeves.
It is as black as night,

or a chalkboard if you erase it.
Or blue if it’s really dark;
sometimes black looks like blue
when it’s really dark.
This is me and that is you and together
we are we, but never wee, for hearts in love
are so big as to hold it all.

You are as short as I am tall
and I continue to fall for you every time my rhyme
has you in it. So I begin it,
and then I continue. This is my poem.
These are my words, you are my muse.
I choose you to be, but that’s just me.
It always comes back to that!

(C) Walter J Wojtanik – 2019

Poetic Asides with Robert Lee Brewer – Prompt #481 – Pick a writer

LORD PRESTON OF ROCHESTER

He hears the beauty of words inside his head,
and that may be all he can do.
But between me and you, he is a true poet.
Many admire his muse (he may not know it,
but it is true). Quick with a rhyme
or a reference to something that reminds him
of the words he hears inside his head.
It is said, you honor a poet by reading
another poem written by said poet.
And then another.

And brother, I will read all you serve.
I love your verve and love of life.
Even the odd limerick or two.
(And between me and you,
some are quite odd!)
But, I laud your ability to write
what your heart sees.
It frees the soul, every poet’s goal.
Hail to you, and all you do.
We wish that we could write like you!
We hear the beauty of your words inside our head.

(C) Walter J Wojtanik – 2019

Poetic Asides with Robert Lee Brewer – Prompt #481 – Pick a writer

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