POEM STARTING WITH A LINE BY ROD McKUEN

thank you
for kissing me in the elevator last night.

two strangers passing as ships
      different floors…
           different mores…

over your shoulder
reaching to press

         your scent: fragrant

lips vagrantly brushing
      eyes searching
           cheeks flushing/blushing

lips meeting fully
     no greeting exchanged.

i didn’t even catch your name!

© Walter J Wojtanik

– The first line was taken from Rod McKuen’s poem, “Another Thank You”
from his collection “Twelve Years of Christmas”

Poetic Asides – Prompt #414: Connection

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POETRY KEEPS ME ALIVE

I love the rhyme of words and it’s
as if I’m hearing them for the first time,
The artistry of me trying to express
keeps my chest thumping; a heart
pumping to all extremities and lingers
in my fingers and toes (and the tip
of my nose). And if I choose to say
what that heart feels, it becomes as real
as life itself. Keeping me engaged,
rightfully enraged with being.
Seeing it any other way, I’d be a dead man.
Poetry makes me thrive; keeps me alive.
And for that, I find cause to celebrate.

© Walter J. Wojtanik – 2017

 

BLACK BANANAS

The fruit fly population grows.
It knows the bananas are going bad.
It’s sad that this source of potassium
and carbohydrates suffers such a fate.
The skins are slimy and necromantic,
it is usually automatic they are trash.
But, too much cash goes into their
procurement. And those damn flies
are lured to their fragrance.
A microscopic happy dance.
JOY, JOY, HAPPY, HAPPY, JOY…
Oh boy. I think that blast of banana
has gone to my head. I dread…
Hey, wait a minute. That’s half-baked.
There’s bread where those buggers breed.
From mush to batter to bread.
A trifle better instead! Blackened bananas
make me grin. It’s a sin to let them waste.
They’d be much, much better around my waist!

© Walter J Wojtanik – 2017

Quickly – Whoop-ti-do

AND HE FORGETS

When he loves, he begins to forget.
~ from “A Man In His Life” by Yehuda Amichai

All his life he tried to please her
and he sees her now in misted memory.
A lost love in the span of years.
He hears her tender voice;
it has been her choice to remain
as his brain languishes in lost thought.
From the moment he met her,
he swore he’d never forget her, but
his mind paid little heed to such promises.
He loves her with all his heart,
from the start of their first moments
together, until his disease let her
slip from his grasp. He no longer
expresses what she has known for years
and amidst her heartache and tears,
she fears he has bid her farewell
without a proper goodbye. No matter
how hard she’ll try, she will cry
until dawns early light; all through the night.
He has loved her for a long time,
but now when he loves, he begins to forget.

(C) Walter J Wojtanik – 2017

Poetic Asides – Prompt #413 – Recognition

 

L’INVERNO

Silvery pizzicato, strings in vibration, a concerto composed with the chill of viola trills. A hibernation beneath the blank cover shrouding the silence in winter’s prelude. It exudes a gentle whisper. Over near the rivulet, crystals form, there is no warmth to keep her dance nimble. This symbols her station encased, faces rosy and ruddy, frosted and firm.

Wind blown and silent
whispers falling on deaf ears
fears of winter’s blast

(C) Walter J. Wojtanik – 2017

dVerse Poets Pub – Haibun Monday–Shimo No Koe–First Frost’s Voice

SLIVERS WITHOUT SOUNDS

Garfunkel drops a chord
and it bandies about until shards
slice the air like a muted whisper.
Old friends like darkness, shroud.
No crowds, no crying out louds,
no opinions voiced or foisted upon us.
I take a scrap for a souvenir,
and use it to inspire my next tirade.
Visions softly weeping in
their vacuumed void seem annoyed.

© Walter J. Wojtanik – 2017

Quickly – Dumpster Dive

My “scrap” line used: Silence falls and breaks

I AM LEGEND

I am an enigma; a legend,
insistent that the season becomes
the most important thing.
It is for the children that I work,
and it seemed that they came
to appreciate this generosity,
which was rather rare.
Up in my spacious
hamlet I plan, amidst the hustle
and bustle (and time to rustle a sugar cookie
or two) with my diminutive minions
to charge through more rapid than eagles.
Rather happy, rarely sappy, I continue to hurl
myself  into this chore clenched fist and more
until I think I will burst.
And when I laugh my belly shakes,
a right jolly old spasm! Bridging the chasm
of disbelief, for a dedicated cause.
There is no mystery here. I am Santa Claus.

© Walter J. Wojtanik – 2017

Poetic Asides – Prompt #412: Name Tag

 

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.

AS LONG AS YOU REMAIN

As long as you remain in my heart,
you are never gone. You are
the one who has brightened my days
always and in all ways.

I can never miss you.
You are never gone. You are
what a smile is to a bad day
always and in all ways.

I hold you here where my heart resides
deep inside, you are never gone.
You are the one that had become
a habit I couldn’t break. It would take

as long to purge you from that place
as it would take to traverse space
and come back here safe and sound. I have found
the seed you had planted continues to blossom.

No gloom befalls me. You enthrall me
as you always have, all ways and forever.
You are never gone, as long as I breathe.
I believe in the joy of you! It’s true.
As long as you remain.

© Walter J. Wojtanik – 2017

Poems of Garden Gnomes – Lingering