I choose my words carefully
and I choose where I want to say them.
I say them in a way then, that will convey
everything I want, on any day I want them to.

This expressive fool
has chosen to drool over poetic verse
in the worst way, be they his words
or the things that others think to say.

I have found my authentic voice
in my choice of verbiage. No sage
with wise words can unschool me,
for my quirks and strange habits rule me

and I gaze with my poetic heart
at all that its eyes can see. To me,
that is what all poets might see in ways
that make sense to them. And then,

I will come to understand all that our craft
will demand of us. I will choose
the level of my commitment and be admittedly
as poetic as I want to be!

© Walter J. Wojtanik – 2017

Poetic Asides Prompt #388 – As _____ as _____


In the present we stand, hand-in-hand for the cause of poetry.
Not quite sure what means to this end, but poets and friends
sharing in the hearth of majestic musings warm their hearts
with glowing expressions. Never at a loss for words
but sometimes a lot of effort goes unnoticed. The rhyme
stays within reason, for ’tis the season for all to write.

We would be well within our right
to seize the opportunity to delve into poetry,
giving proper respect to the relevant rhyme,
for what would sound more fitting between friends?
After all, we all craft with our own fine words
and hold the verse of others to our hearts.

For it is within the beating of said hearts
that we find the power in all that we write.
Poems flow from the manipulation of words,
and become the true essence of living poetry.
Inspiration expressed in the gathering of friends
all for the propagation of rapturous rhyme.

Not all find worth in the like sounding rhymes
preferring the freedom that liberates their hearts
in the form a verse that is as free. These, my friends,
are the choices that we as poets make. We are what we write.
It takes all kinds to write all forms of poetry,
but a true poet see the emotion woven into words.

Offer up your musings, for the communion of words
never ceases. Be they random or deliberate, rhymes
are the glue that holds together all our pieces. Poetry
is the literal music of our souls. It resides in every heartfelt
pang of passion and fashions itself into the right
moments of our lives as if they were comforting old friends.

What can we do to spread the scope of our beauty, friends?
Put the power of your opinion or your longing into words,
for it is within every woman and man’s right
to give the world exactly what we glean from our rhymes.
Poetry is a pulse. It is the syncopation of a loving heart.
And the living that we do, becomes our lifelong poetry.

Give poetry a chance, friends.
Leaving your heart in every word.
You have the time to rhyme; and all night to write it.


That moment with our lips pressed
a tender buss to stir the embers
and seal the glow of love’s true heart,
I had been changed. I craved you,
savored the flavor of you. Breathing
through each other in passion’s breath.
Soft and warm and disarming,
you were charmed as I was charming you.
Ever since that night, the moon shone
brighter, my steps were lighter and
I was brought into your heart, a
delicious sip from your sweet lips.
My hunger has been sated.

© Walter J Wojtanik – 2016

dVerse Poets Pub – Poetics: Firsts things first



She’s off again!
That brazen hussy on horseback.
The fact is that the crowds in Coventry
congregate in wait for a glimpse
or a gleaming of her steaming lack
of attire. I am thankful for her hair
for there within, her wherewithal
is all concealed. Nothing is revealed
until the wind blows. And so it goes.
Exhibitionist or harlot, a scarlet letter
would have nowhere to hide.
The missus has no pride or shame,
this Lady just sullies my good name!
There she goes, she’s off again!

© Walter J. Wojtanik – 2016

dVerse Poets Pub – Tuesday Poetics: Poetical Spouses


The shade of blue
made for the haunting lilt
of the blues. Anguish lives
in every note and nuance,
a musical séance encrusted
with rusted memories
and melancholy dollies.
Swirling the ice in my empty
glass at the corner table
of this dingy hall, the music
calls my name, but no answer
is forthcoming. The scotch is numbing
my synapses, and when my memory
lapses, I’ll be singing midnight!

© Walter J. Wojtanik – 2016

Written for dVerse Poets Pub – Poetics: Breathing in Blue


The rain falls on Paris,
the City of Lights is awash with despair,
succumbing to nature’s deluge.
There is no refuge from its barrage.
Masses are huddled, side-stepping
puddles and rivulets. Carriages
and cabs trudge through the sludge
of ‘Paree!’ Her beauty is masked,
taken to task by the wrath from the heavens.
Collars extended and caps drawn close.
Monsieurs and mademoiselles hurry
to escape, surrendering to its fury.
All colors are muted to a dingy gray,
on a fairly depressing day.
It is raining in Paris.

© Walter J. Wojtanik – 2016

For dVerse Poets Pub – Tuesday Poetics: Drought and Deluge




They did live happily ever after. It always seemed that every happily ever after starts with once upon a time. Poets with hearts of gold live the fairy tale writing without fail to assail what lives in these hearts through their rhyme. Banners unfurled, riding to rescue muses held captive in the unreachable tower of a strangled mind, to vanquish villains of verses left undone – all battles won by the surgical strokes of his pen. O’er hill and stream, though valley and dale – poets usually prevail, leaving marks on pages all their own. A rhyming jester upon his steed, his ink bleeds across his virgin page until all sage words have wreaked havoc on its pristine papyrus. It certainly could be worse, but it is his verbal scimitar that he wields with such aplomb. His heart would in all ways find the word or phrase to fill his days with verse. In a far away land, a simple man of expressive heart and gilded tongue had begun on a quest to say with that heart all that his eyes refused to see. Once upon a time…

A hero of words
searches for beauty within.
And so it begins…

© Walter J. Wojtanik – 2016

NaPoWriMo 2016 – Day #28: “Backward Story”


Fill your head with words.

Big words.

Little words.

Swear words.
“Five-dollar” words.
They can rhyme.
Or not.
You’ve got to have words.
They don’t even have to be real words
or in English (or the vernacular)!
You don’t need to be so damn particular!
If it looks like a word,
and sounds like a word,
then it’s a duck!
(If the word is duck!)
Give it your own twist.
Shake your fist, get a clue.
Get the gist
of what it is you want to say.
and say that shit, anyway.
(See? You can throw in a swear word
for the shock value, if you must)
Just use you words!

(C) Walter J. Wojtanik – 2016

NaPoWriMo 2016 – Day #19: “Didactic Poem”


He is bound to its majesty; a mountain, snow-capped
and covered with dreams of the conquest
of its stately infinity. Climbing ever upward, Excelsior,
an excursion of one nods in respect and kneels
to reflect, a thoughtful genuflect to its superiority,
the majority of which is hidden above the clouds.
The only sound he hears is the silent whisper
of an endless space, a chance to see the face of God.
He is found in the placid serenity near the peak
where the winds speak of the wisdom sequestered there.

© Walter J. Wojtanik – 2016

dVerse Poets Pub – Poetics: Summit in sight


Sounds quite prehistoric
rather almost reptilian,
a mockingbird cotillion
will bear your silly name.
Birds of a feather flock to-
gether, but this many-tongued
mimic is an odd gimmick with wings.
It will make a mockery of things!

© Walter J. Wojtanik – 2016

dVerse Poets Pub – Poetics: Poetry is For the Birds

A mockeroserous is a gathering of mockingbirds!