A BAND OF INSECTS

(A LIST POEM)

Adam and the Ants lead the crawl,
The Beatles really topped them all.
Iron Butterfly, heavy metal cads,
Doug and the Slugs weren’t Too Bad.
The Crickets had Holly smilin’,
The Mosquitos played on Gilligan’s Island.
The Cicadas, Yellow Jackets, Killer Bees.
The Flys got you where they want you.
Is there enough soul for Gnat King Cole?

(C) Walter J Wojtanik, 2014

 

QUICKLY IN SEPTEMBER P.A.D. – DAY 27 (Catch Up) – BUG

NO SHELTER IN GLASS HOUSES

 

On display, a case of seeing too much,
of revealing too much. Naked to the world
and every whirlwind of activity shows your
proclivity for dramatics. Loons and fanatics
at the ready to shutter up and enclose you.
They know you too well. Inclined to throw stones,
shards are harder to avoid. An encased void,
an open book at every look. There is no hiding
inside; check your pride at the door. It’s for sure,
there is no shelter in glass houses.

 

(C) Copyright Walter J Wojtanik – 2014

QUICKLY IN SEPTEMBER P.A.D. – DAY 25: TOO, TOO

LOVE YOUR EYES

Begin to live
Begin to love
Love of life
Love this part
Part of the cure
Part of the problem
Problem child
Problem ahead
Ahead of the curve
Ahead of the game
Game player
Game time
Time for dinner
Time to spare
Spare ribs
Spare change
change of heart
change for good
good for you
good dog
dog day afternoon
dog years
years of pain
years old
old time religion
old man river
river runs through it
river of dreams
dreams and aspirations
dreams come true
true love
true to form
form fitting
form a line
line after line
line up
up yours
up to you
you are the one
you have it all
all aboard
all clear
clear focus
clear glass
glass menagerie
glass eyes
eyes of the tiger
eye sore
sore
tiger

(C) Walter J Wojtanik, 2014

 

QUICKLY IN SEPTEMBER P.A.D. – DAY 23 – BLITZ (FORM)

SEASONS CHANGE

The air is chilled.
Clouds in a hue of blue
that feels frigid, making
exposed digits ache and stiffen.
Autumn enters through
Summer’s closing door
and it’s true that fall could be hours old,
but the cold will have you believing
that looks are deceiving. Summer is departing;
can a disheartening Winter be far behind?
I find that this respite is a diversion,
an excursion through the year of seasons.
No reason can suffice to quell
crimson leaves and ice .

 

Copyright © Walter J. Wojtanik -2014

QUICKLY IN SEPTEMBER P.A.D. – DAY 22: FALL

BURCHFIELD’S BACKYARD

BurchCrane

The crane stands at the silent door
one leg tucked, reflections of beauty
surround with sounds of nature in serenade.
Played in the wood, winds stroke the reeds
peacefully, a melody airy and bright,
Captured in water color.

(C) Walter J Wojtanik, 2014

***

I live five minutes from Mr. Burchfield’s home/gallery in West Sencea, NY. The Burchfield Nature and Art Center is an impressive complex and the inspiration for much of his work.

http://www.burchfieldnac.org/

One of the largest collections of Burchfield’s work is in the Burchfield Penney Art Center at State University of New York at Buffalo State.

https://www.burchfieldpenney.org/

 

QUICKLY IN SEPTEMBER P.A.D. – DAY 21: IMAGES

IN A VACUUM

A shell

empty, rattling

love sucked dry

web strewn, hewn from

old growth. Memories

packed into corrugated crates,

too late to redeem dreams;

no sentiment remains,

drained of all life, rife

for the wrecking ball’s mercy.

Swift justice never fast enough.

It’s tough thinking of home.

It’s probably just best to leave

well enough alone!

 

(C) Walter J Wojtanik, 2014

 

QUICKLY IN SEPTEMBER P.A.D. – DAY 17:  HOME IN A HOLLOW

NICE PLACE TO VISIT, BUT…

Each step carries its own creak,
you can never sneak or grovel
in a hovel. Picture askew
with draperies, maybe pictures
askew too. A void of space
black holes refuse to enter.
Wind blown whistles through window gaps,
tapping, branches reaching, backhanded slaps
against the roof, proof of her verity.
It is a rarity to be noticed for right reasons.
At the center of the block between
houses that should be knocked down.
Just a space, facing west;
not fitting in with the rest.
A gold tooth in a decrepit smile
and such. It may not be much,
but it is home.

(C) Walter J Wojtanik, 2014

QUICKLY IN SEPTEMBER P.A.D. – DAY 17: HOME IN A HOLLOW

 

ROSE-COLORED GLASSES (1951)

Optimism is the norm
a shelter safe from any storm,
the cold war never battled here,
but we prepared until all clear.

From daybreak to the setting sun,
it’s safe in nineteen fifty-one.
The sky is such a lovely gray,
it looks like just the perfect day.

The stores and shops are colored pewter,
and my girl Lil, can’t get no cuter,
in her black and gray attire,
that girl sure sets my heart on fire.

Her eyes the purest shade of slate,
it makes me long for our next date
In the back of Dad’s black DeSoto,
until she demures and tells me NO!

Clouds are fluffy, billowed buff,
to attain the color is not tough.
This black and white world is a thrill,
it’s such a great life in Pleasantville!

(C) Walter J Wojtanik, 2014

 

QUICKLY IN SEPTEMBER P.A.D. – DAY 18: LA VIE EN ROSE

MOHAIR AND MOONPIES

All I know is there was this farm.
Acres of open spaces
to sit//stare//prance and dance.
It was a chance to connect
with the land//the bands//
the lovely nymph passing acid
and ass, a nice little lass
at that! Summer never felt hotter.
 Would’ve spotted her, a face
in the crowd//to remember//
to launch a thousand trips.
Piece//love//music
hair like Jesus//multitudes
of chicks and dudes,
beads and leather vests//chests bared
and fellas with no shirts too,
true confessions in August//
free love and granola.
Mohair and moonpies//
more music and sex and drugs.
Old man Max throws a bitchin’ party!

(C) Walter J Wojtanik, 2014

 

QUICKLY IN SEPTEMBER P.A.D. – DAY 17: WEAR YOUR SPIRIT

 

 

IN THE DARKNESS

I cannot sleep, my neighbor’s on a tear,
Darkness has fallen at the end of day.
Stop, stop your caterwauling over there.

I have to work tomorrow, you don’t care,
and you won’t listen to a word I say!
I cannot sleep, my neighbor’s on a tear,

I’d love to shut you up, but I don’t dare,
the officers would come; take me away,
Stop, stop your caterwauling over there.

I’d understand if you were dying there,
your rage against the night would be okay,
I cannot sleep, my neighbor’s on a tear,

The dying of the light is not so rare
to have you shouting all the live-long day!
Stop, stop your caterwauling over there.

You dirty mother, you’re starting to wear
upon my nerves, now at the close of day
I cannot sleep, my neighbor’s on a tear,
Stop, stop your caterwauling over there.

 

(C) Walter J Wojtanik, 2014

QUICKLY IN SEPTEMBER P.A.D. – DAY 16: THE SEQUEL to

 

Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night by Dylan Thomas

Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

And you, my father, there on that sad height,
Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.