OUT IN FRONT

Out in front
there’s a rickety porch,
rough hewn timbers with tree bark
still clinging to their fibrous skeletons.
Rocking chairs and a stump table;
shavings from a whittled branch
strewn about the weathered floor boards.

Out in front
there’s a tree; tall and stately,
a monument to the longevity apparent
since it was planted, a feeble sapling
much like himself – thin, gangly and weak.
It speaks of perseverance and dedication –
fulfilling its station to mark time and grow.

Out in front
near the tree, there’s a lake…
a pond, really. Reeds and lily pads
defining its edge. Sounds of crickets and croaks
of bullfrogs, cicada whines reverberate in the late
afternoon. Soon their sounds will be silenced
as the seasonal change lumbers into the valley.

Out in front
is a tire dangling, a rope looped over a branch
of the stately tree. Dirt dug out, a furrow where feet
dragging and kicking kept sticking the ground
with a new found ferocity. Gaining in height and velocity,
the children take turns launching, airborne to land
in a heap with a thud; sometimes blood appears, the poor dears.

Out in front
a wagon waits; flatbed secured, a hitch holding tightly.
On a brightly hued morning, and without much in the way
of a warning, grandfather had passed. The town folk amassed
in respect; paying forward what had come around on occasion.
Sadly in procession, he was carried from the house – a finality.
Placed upon the caisson, a solemn silence ensued.

Out in front
the porch remained; rockers swaying in the stiffness of a late breeze.
Birds nested in the tree and the pond continued with activity
and the sounds of life. No one sat on the pendulous tire as it
swung hypnotic. The front door was ajar, but it was in exit,
not as an invitation to enter. Out in back the fields had grown
unruly and left to sit fallow. But, out in front a good fellow has gone.

© Walter J. Wojtanik

Offered at dVerse Poets Pub – MTB: Impressionism

GOODBYES

We say our goodbyes
assuming this may be the final end.
And amidst our laughs and cries
we walk away as better friends.

Assuming this may be the final end,
we reminisce about adventures shared.
We walk away as better friends;
we realize how much we’ve cared.

We reminisce about adventures shared,
and know our hearts are sweetly blessed,
we realize how much we’ve cared
now until the day we rest.

Know our hearts are sweetly blessed
and our souls have been as well,
from now until life’s soft caress;
until death’s fatal knell.

Our souls have been as well
connected, and conjoined in heart and mind
until death’s fatal knell,
these are the ties that bind.

Connected and conjoined, in heart and mind
and amidst our laughs and cries,
these are the ties that bind,
and we sadly say our goodbyes.

© Walter J. Wojtanik – 2017

Poetic Asides Prompt #386: Good_____

 

LOOK AT ME, I’M THE FUNNY MAN

A tear grease painted here on my face
in case the well’s run dry.
The tears of a clown roll down
my bulbous proboscis, sadness
in hiding, providing the greatest spark
on earth to offer my mirth for the joy
of others. It is laughter they are after.
But, it bothers me that I can’t lighten
my own heart. I fall apart and land
flat on my face. Traces of tears
grease painted here, just in case!

© copyright 2013, Walter J Wojtanik

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 your face
flashes in my mind from time-to-time.
You are four Years in passing
and I keep amassing poems
long after you’re gone.
And life moves on.

© Copyright Walter J. Wojtanik – 2013

From POETIC ASIDES – Day 6 (“Post” Poem)

DEEP REST

Sadness, like a great weight
draws downward and your fate, although
not sealed, feels so.
And when you fall so low, nothing
can make your sad heart sing;
there’s no gladness to bring you hope,
only that downward slope.
No ambition; you mope around
clutching to this profound
sensation which confounds your mind
and it is then you find
just one way to unwind. You sleep.
The only way to keep
from going off the deep end, friend.
It’s in the very end
Your brain chooses to send a test.
Accept and do your best,
Or resign to deep rest, depressed.