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! 

THE OPERATING TABLE

Skinned knees and elbows,
and a face sliding along a graveled
street, bounding up the curb
and rattling a few molars to the core.
Cuts and burns and bloody noses,
all treated here; without insurance cards,
or appointments. Emergency room
always open, with Tender Loving Care
and a bottle of Mercurochrome.
A gentle hand pulling pieces of stone
from the face her “handsome” boy,
wincing with me and holding back her own tears.
Always at no charge and with the healing powers
of a tender kiss on the repaired injury,
in time to get dinner on the table
when her work had finished.
Doctor Mom was always in.

THE GIFT OF A FINE PEN

Writing

The ink that flows is the milk of a million reminiscences,
released with every scratch across the page.
All sage words live within it, it is an extension
of my expression. All painful memories come
in torrents of her indigo flow. I can show you
my pain with each strain of her nib.
Give me a pen, and you’ve given me freedom!
For no soul can be sequestered when a writer
writes. Every sight they have seen is given in return
all in remittance for the gift of a fine pen!

© Walter J. Wojtanik

Poetic Asides PAD 2017 – Day 1: Reminiscence

LEAVING LENNON MARKS

 

JohnLennonOnce behind a milk maid bleary,
I beard a Liddypoolian surly,
sing-song pop/rocks, yeah, yeah, yup,
with good dog Nigel, me soiled pup.
Richie-ringy, drum, drum, drum,
whilst Petey lands upon his bum,
Paulie wally doodles all day,
and Georgie puts pied pudding away.
Meanstyle, Yokie loudly bang she slaved,
a New Yorkshire in me final daze,
avant garded must too grately
amongst the scruffy beat alls lately.
Banded four we combed to stage Ed,
we was all the bloody rage, Ed.
Maniacal, the screamies fainted
as were the mused sick; badly tainted.
Writey, writey, Bob all-mighty,
pose’em, storied; all humoured slighty.
From me pen me wordies stumble,
in me own write does muzak crumble.
Go salve the Queen!

*** Scanned me copy of Lennon’s “In His Own Write” and drew me storied inspiring from without me.

SOUND AND SENSE

“True ease in writing comes from art, not chance”

  ~An Essay on Criticism (Sound and Sense) Alexander Pope

The heart expresses all its eyes can see;
a voice that’s clear and speaks to all who hear.
So, do not close your mind to what can be,
a heart so blind will make love disappear.
But pens that stroke in broad and heartfelt hues,
will yield a master work in words you choose.

© Walter J. Wojtanik – 2016

STAR WRITER

When evening calls and I am here
poised at my keypad rapt in worded wonder,
thoughts of you invade my thinking
giving me this inkling that we have connected
in ways we don’t understand. Here I am,
just a man you had known now fully grown
and dabbling in these poetic pursuits.
And you, the woman who is drawn to my words,
drawing the inspirations found hidden there.
I can thank my lucky stars in this fortuitous sky
that we seem to have teamed up to create magic
in sight and sound, looking to orbit this universe
we are constructing. Written in the stars,
knowing that this moment is ours.

© Walter J. Wojtanik – 2016

Poetic Asides April Poem-A-Day Challenge – Day #22: “STAR _____”

EVERY ONE HAS IT

We each have a way with words,
some better than others,
but if I had my “druthers”,
I’d rather have mine read than heard.

A few folks speak for a living,
lawyers, physicians –
hot-aired Politicians…
we’re all better for the “warmth” they’re giving.

Some people write their say
words of wisdom, expressive
sometimes brief; some excessive…
but it’s their flair, they write that way.

There are people who sing for their meals,
lyrical music played to the heart
from the first note (a great place to start),
troubadours with record deals.

But all these words I write instead
can be sung or spoken
and you’ll get your fix if my words aren’t broken.
It’s a token of esteem when my words are read.

© Copyright Walter J. Wojtanik – 2013

Inspired by POETIC ASIDES Day 25 – “Everyone _________”

WHAT ARE WORDSWORTH?

Take a page.
Blank is fine
and write whatever is
on your mind.

Write in verses,
make them rhyme,
leave out curses
and take your time.

Think of nature;
write the sun,
think of some thing
or someone.

Reach into your
heart and steal
the words that say
the way you feel.

Write until you’re done,
you’ll know it.
That’s the way
to be a poet.

© Copyright Walter J. Wojtanik – 2013

Off of POETIC ASIDES Day 8 (Instructional Poem)

THROW ME A LINE

“True ease in writing comes from art, not chance”

  ~An Essay on Criticism (Sound and Sense) Alexander Pope

The heart expresses all its eyes can see;
a voice that’s clear and speaks to all who hear.
So, do not close your mind to what can be,
a heart so blind will make love disappear.
But pens that stroke in broad and heartfelt hues,
will yield a master work in words you choose.

© Copyright Walter J. Wojtanik – 2013

MIZ QUICKLY DAY 2 – Iambic lines

MIZ QUICKLY OFF AND RUNNING

Sleazy Steve set off on foot,
he stole some lady’s purse.
A soul once meekly in control,
she set off after Steve and cursed.
This girl refined had lost her mind,
as a matter of course, she was not far behind.
Swaying through the maddening crowd
quite mobile; gazelle-like her foot steps flowed.
In younger days she would avoid him,
but when she catches his ass, she’ll destroy him!

© Copyright Walter J. Wojtanik – 2013

Day one – Seven Words – Miz Quickly’s Impromptu Poetry