IN THE LINE OF THREE

I was born the third child on the third day, the third Walter in the line of familial redundancy. Not a junior, not a numeral, and after my father’s funeral, the last Walter standing. No three-star General commanding multitudes of minions. Just a man with a penchant for poetry, be they tercets or haiku, I am true to the test of three.

A third birthday was ushered in by the death of three, rocking my world at an early age. Holly, Valens and Richardson – mother’s sons all, taking the fall in a stormy Iowa sky. I don’t remember if I cried, but the music died all the same. Later the same year we saw the first of three Walter’s perish and a cherished name was diminished by one, survived by two “sons”. Three seems to be my number, lucky or not, but it’s gotten me this far in the line of three.

The trinity guides
and provides me a purpose,
three steps onward

© Walter J. Wojtanik – 2018

 

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DOGWOOD

Trees rustle and sway
and make a day of it.
Leaves, cut by the winds of change
rearrange, only to rediscover
home again. Nestled and rested,
the best place to recline.
But I find it annoying,
a noise toying with me.
It is there, somewhere
near the patch of saplings,
rapping an echo as of rabid canines.
It’s fine, but it hearkens to me,
this bark of the dogwood trees
unleashed. Their bite’s not so bad!

© Walter J Wojtanik – 2018

Poetic Bloomings Prompt #213: You Come To My Senses

SUNSHINE WHISPERS

Salubrious salutations resonate
on this late summer day,
the golden orb reigns down
in waves of gilded images.
I hear your voice echo against
my skin, my pate, red from shouts
of your raucous oration.
I hold my station as you continue
the tirade of this sweltering afternoon.
And as night draws nigh I hear your soft
sigh and sweet farewell; your promise
of a fresh new tomorrow. Your whispers
ease my sorrow and caress my soul,
touching my heart with your lilting goodnight.

(C) Walter J Wojtanik – 2018

Poetic Bloomings Prompt #213: You Come To My Senses

MEMORY FADES, LOVE REMAINS

He senses he knew her way back when,
but he is not quite sure. Quite forgetful is he,
she is a beauty he had once known. He loves
her, he thinks. But he’s not quite sure. He
seems to show a spark of familiarity. He begins
to connect and then rapidly fades. He hates to
let it show. He loves, then he begins to forget.

© Walter J Wojtanik – 2018

When he loves, he begins to forget.
~ from “A Man In His Life” by Yehuda Amichai

Poetic Bloomings – “And I Quote” #1: Memory

Miz Quickly’s Imprompt Poetry – MuhwufSS: Golden Shovel

POST MORTEM

You weren’t fixing on leaving,
you had other plans.
But, God laughed
and you were gone. A memory
written ad nauseum,
causing hearts to ache
at each re-telling. Eyes
swelling with tears
laced with fears of  folks forgetting.
It’s hitting home the more
distance passes and a trace of your face
flashes in my mind from time-to-time.
You are nine years in passing
and I keep amassing poems
well long after you’re gone.
And my life moves on.

© Walter J. Wojtanik – 2018

Poetic Bloomings – Prompt #211: And I Quote #1

 

ON FORGETTING TO FORGET

My memory is dotted with crisp images
that have engrained into the depth of my soul.
I have no control over them; they lay dormant,
only to bubble to the surface when I least expect.
Trying in vain to relinquish these old feelings,
I reel with remorse, this sad course I contemplate
leaves me silent and still and alone.
And so, I am left kneeling in supplication,
a broad brush of despair paints me.
This clown cries out from within, making a spectacle
of my mirth and mired muse. My resolution
refuses to take hold; these memories dominate me.
It is too late. Love languishes.

(C) Walter J Wojtanik – 2018

 

 

A GRAND RE-OPENING

She did not come to my doorstep,
there was no notification that she was lacking.
All I knew was that we had performed together
admirably, and we knew we could do it again.
I never met her, this friend,
but I always knew in the end we’d still be a great pair.

Here she was, sweet as a ripe pear,
encouraging and nurturing, a light step
and a sledgehammer heart. A friend
indeed when a friend was lacking.
“I miss the process. Can we try it again?”
she messaged asking if we could still work together.

It surely didn’t take much for me to get her
enthused, for we DID make a great pair.
I have no qualms of firing those synapses again.
A garden themed poetic place where we step
in tune with other like minds, not lacking
the ability to find the words to pose. Widespread friends

who, when the day ends
feel better for the time together.
No heart leaves lacking;
a community beyond compare.
And from that very first step
it felt good to walk the garden again.

What did we think we’d gain
by bringing all these friends
to tread here in lockstep?
It becomes a reunion, coming to gather,
to be inspired, to cajole and share.
But mostly because we also needed the backing

of those who both of our lives were lacking.
So here we are again,
Marie and Walt, a somewhat storied pair,
very acquainted friends
who’ve never spent time together,
reveling in every calculated step.

Reconnecting has put the pep in our step that was lacking,
poetic pals together again,
with all our worldly and wordy friends beyond compare!

© Walter J Wojtanik – 2018

MuhwufSS – Repeat and Vary, part 3: The Sestina

Written for Poetic Bloomings Restart

ANGEL VOICES AT DAWNING

I hear it gently,
and I mentally
take note of the lilting song.
Angel voices sing
the soundtrack of Spring.
Their chorus is loud and strong.

Morning brings their sound,
and it is around
dawn’s first light that I hear it.
A poet’s heart sees
the living beauty
within euphonic spirit.

I begin each day
the exact same way.
I am thankful for this gift.
My whispered prayer
rises through the air;
as their harmonies uplift.

 

(C) Walter J. Wojtanik – 2016

Presented at dVerse Poets Pub – Meeting The Bar: Alouette

STAND AND FIGHT

In contemplation, sat she did,
to think of futures yet unknown,
despite the sad farewells she’ll bid,
and “braverisms” that she’s shown.
Her daughters, yes, are fully grown
to carry on her beauty bright,
and so to right the love I’ve shown,
I’ll stand beside her in her fight.

Lament the battered heart and head,
such maladies should not be hers.
I’d take them on myself instead
to suffer all that it incurs.
So as for now if it gets worse
I’ll keep my precious well in sight,
and pray that nothing more occurs,
I’ll stand beside her in her fight.

My sad intent comes at a price
through indiscretions wrought, it seems.
Forgiveness given must suffice,
as life dismantles all our dreams.
Yet through it all, her smile still beams,
a beacon through this dreary night,
emotions flow from both extremes,
I’ll stand beside her in her fight.

My princess, queen – my love so true,
I’ll hold you close with all my might,
and give you all that you are due,
I’ll stand beside you in your fight.

© Walter J. Wojtanik – 2016

For POETIC BLOOMINGS – INFORM POETS: BALLADE

dVerse Poets Pub – OLN #181

CONQUEROR

She walks along within his heart,
surrender to her name and she declares her victory.
She, a young beauty a distance apart.
wielding the weapons of love. Her artillery:
raven hair, hazel eyes, her smile spells your captivity.

A tug of war in the tug of hearts,
no strings attached, you were matched
by your play of words. Soaring like birds
released, a reprieve of freedom granted,
she walks along within his heart.

She carries him with her as well,
his tender words become her shield,
protected by his expressive heart,
no surrender does she yield. His soul beckons.
Surrender to her name and she declares her victory.

His journey begins and ends
wherever she reside and he hides
in the rushes until she flushes him out.
Without a doubt, he is her target,
she, the young beauty a distance apart.

Hand-to-hand they take their stand,
vying eye-to-eye. Determined and delighted,
he fights for her honor, a prize secured
and her response is swift and accurate.
She wields the weapons of love. Her artillery

is not pervasive, she replaces
animus with amour. It is sure you will be
the prisoner of her heart right from the start.
Her beauty is your proclivity:
raven hair, hazel eyes, her smile / your captivity.

© Walter J. Wojtanik – 2016

Written for POETIC BLOOMINGS – INFORM POETS: QUINTAIN CASCADE

offered at dVerse Poets Pub – OLN#177