SIXTY-ONE MILES YOUNG

Every year is a fork in the road.
You swear you don’t feel old,
but your feet are tread worn
and you’d have sworn
you had more gas in the tank.
You have gravity to thank,
or Karma,
or “Big Pharma”
for getting you this far.
Were you a car they’d have
traded you in for a sleek,
and speedy thing, but it would be
a greedy thing to make material
things your sole desire.
There’s still a fire in the hearth
and nowhere on earth you’d rather be
than the road you’re currently on.
Your GPS is gone and your drive
is just staying alive and avoiding
any more detours along your journey.
And you yearn for just one more
mile to make you smile (and go
in style) while on the way!

© Walter J. Wojtanik – 2017

KITTERY

Uncle Harry was a sailor; a submariner with tales to tell. Our families would alternate visits from one summer to the next. Dad’s blue Plymouth Belvedere wagon was the magic carpet that swept the eight of us (Mom, Dad and six kids) up to Kittery, Maine every other year. The following summer Harry and my Aunt Marianne would bring their six kids home to Lackawanna. Sixteen of us cramped into whichever house served as accommodations.  Sometimes relations would strain toward the end of even the happiest of visits, but it was what it was. The cousins paired up closely in age and we played, fought, talked, shared, loved and cried when the time came to return home. Did I mention Harry lived on Love Street? No matter how our visits had gone, we always hated to leave Love behind.

My brother Ken was a sailor; a submariner with tales to tell. Serving at the same base, the place brought back memories and afforded us a chance to return to Love once more in our adulthood. It is equally heartwarming and sad to be one of your own memories.

Embers of love live
in the hearth of kith and kin;
always glows within.

© Walter J. Wojtanik – 2016

BON VOYAGE

Setting sail with tales to tell,
the tides swell and the anchor lifted.
I have stood on the shore too long,
sands have been sifted and this gift
is my ticket to brave new worlds.
The winds swirl and catch my spinnaker
and I am in motion with a devotion
to my heart and muse. I refuse to stand still
I will sail well into my sunset, Forget
slowing down, lest I drown in malaise.
These days, my charts are rhymed and metered.
All hands on deck, our trek has started.
Never half hearted, ahead full.
Bon Voyage!

 

(C) Copyright Walter J Wojtanik – 2014

POETIC ASIDES APRIL PAD – DAY 2: TRAVEL

ONE THOUSAND MILES

A single step,
followed in succession
by another. And another.
We are travelers all,
in this journey called life
we will navigate through
choppy waters, guided by
constellations a compass
internal and moral. The coral
is beautiful to behold, but
truth told, plays treacherous
against the hull. Sailors
full of hope and wonder
standing under the fullness
of lunar luminance.
And we dance.
each step a new turn,
a chance to learn our limitations;
our destinations seem so far.
A journey of a thousand miles
starts with a single step.
Make the trip; take the step.

(C) Copyright Walter J Wojtanik – 2014

POETIC ASIDES APRIL PAD – DAY 2: TRAVEL

BETWEEN NEVERLAND AND OZ

I spend my days in a haze,
one foot in Neverland
the other in Oz.
I’m just a lost boy
who wants to go home.
Shadows have been sewn
and yellow brick roads
show the way, but
I’d just as soon have stayed
in one place. I would shoot
the moon in the lagoon
as I disgraced
the hook-handed bandit,
and once landed in
Munchkinville, I could surely
have stood above the crowd.
But, wicked witches are less bitches
and more just manipulative wenches.
I’m not happy giving claps to fairies
And in the trenches Smee
would flee from a battle with me.
Yet, my heart and mind become unraveled
traveling between Neverland and Oz,
that’s because the second star to the right
is no place like home!

 

(C) Copyright Walter J Wojtanik – 2014

POETIC ASIDES APRIL PAD – DAY 2: TRAVEL

 

HOMEWARD BOUND

My train has yet to arrive,
and I’ve a ticket in hand
I stand in wait.
My destination beckons.
Sadly, I’ve taken too many nights
one day at a time.
A suitcase below and my guitar in tow,
with my itinerary full; I’m in demand!
It’s great for a poet/one man band

But I’m tired; I want to go home –
my thoughts escape me,
my music plays,
my love life waits for me, in silence.

It never ends;
caffeine and books tide me over.
It un-nerves me; perturbs me.
Cookie cutter towns where ever I go,
dingy buildings with smoke billows,
and marquees showing oldies.
The faces of strangers distract me,
they remind me I need to be homeward bound.

I just wish I was home.
My thoughts escape me,
my music plays,
my love life stays in wait for me, in silence.

So at night, I write my rhymes again.
I hate this game, but I’ll defend
all my words, they come back to me
from my chest, mediocre at best.
There is no harmony in life’s void
and I’m so annoyed; I need some comfort.

Homeward. I’m bound to go,
I just wish I was home.
My thoughts escape me,
my music plays,
my love life stays in wait for me, in silence.

(C) Coryright Walter J Wojtanik – 2014

Inspiration drawn from “Homeward Bound” by Simon and Garfunkle

 

POETIC ASIDES APRIL PAD – DAY 2: TRAVEL