APPLE CIDER

Aromatic and sweet,
Purely a treat when
Pumpkins are prevalent.
Liquid love in abundance
Every sip makes taste buds dance.

Crushed and filtered,
In quarts or gallons,
Doughnuts come in tandem
Even apple pies will suffice,
Respite ripe for the pickin’.

(C) Walter J. Wojtanik – 2017

dVerse Poets Pub – Tuesday Poetics: The Smell of Chrysanthemums

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SHE INTOXICATES

“Take your baby by the wrist
And in her mouth, an amethyst
And in her eyes, two sapphires blue
And you need her and she needs you
And you need her and she needs you.”

~‘Dance Hall Days’ Lyric – Wang Chung

She stirs your longing,
an incantation, your libation
sipped and savored
flavored by the grape
and sharing its purple hue.
You become inebriate
as you wait for her effect to fade
and you’ve made your vow
as to how to even sober up
from your love filled stupor.
Or if you even wish to.
So you await her last call, all you know
is that she has become your addiction;
your heart’s true affliction.
Your dereliction is complete,
And your heart repeats, you need her
and she needs you.

© Walter J. Wojtanik – 2017

dVerse Poets Pub – Poetics: This One’s For You

The lyric contains amethyst which is my birthstone. The Greeks believed amethyst kept you from becoming inebriated.

CHALLENGE EVERYTHING

Do you take everything for granted?
And does your truth live within you?
Are questions that are never asked
ever answered?
Is it right to set your own standards?
Or should you demand to know how to go?
Is the road less traveled a good choice?
Does your voice ever come unraveled?
Do you allow no to be a solution?
Can roadblocks bring you to some conclusion?

(C) Copyright Walter J Wojtanik – 2017

dVerse Poets Pub – Poetics: The Answer is 42

WHY I WRITE POETRY?

This week, I get the opportunity to answer the question, “Why I Write Poetry.” Robert Lee Brewer of Writer’s Digest.Com’s Poetic Asides posed this query to poetic masses. The link to the site is listed below:

walter-j-wojtanik

 

 

 

 

 

Again, thank you to Robert for his guidance and support and to the many poets who make this site a great place to play poet! 

COMMUNICATING LOVE

Small hand pressed against mother’s lips,
feeling vibrations of a sound not heard.
A sensation undisturbed. Leaning forward
to feel those same lips against a forehead.
A kiss to send a message of love.
Tiny lips against a worried cheek
mimic, “Mmm, mmm, mmm, mmm…
His hearty giggle; her silent tear.
Mother and son as one! Love is understood.

(C) Walter J Wojtanik

dVerse Poets Pub – Poetics: Sensory Play

AS POETIC AS I WANT TO BE

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 _____

LET’S BRING OURSELVES TO RHYME

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.

SINCE THAT FIRST KISS

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

LORD GODIVA LETS OFF STEAM

Godiva

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

BLUES IN THE NIGHT

Midnight.
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