Walter Wojtanik | pictured words

I will not write Sestinas, sir.
It’s not the form that I prefer.
See, when I try, my brain won’t purr.
It spits and chokes. My mind’s a blur.
I will not write for him, or her.
I will not write Sestinas, sir.

And you’d be right if you infer
I will not write Sestinas, sir.
To navigate me through, for sure
I’d have to have a good chauffer.
Or wine or beer or hard liquor.
But I don’t drink, so then I’d slur.

I will not write Sestinas, sir.
To your insistence, I demur.
My mind is striking, as it were.
I’m not a poetry poseur.
To Walt Wojtanik, I’ll defer –
Our chief Sestina Whisperer.

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April 3, 2020

FOLLOW THE YELLOW BRICK ROAD

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It wasn’t a twister,
but a whirlwind of words
that whisked me away,
introduced my would-be Dorothy
to this would-be Scarecrow
who blows me away
with his way with words,
as very few can.
Our story began across a lake
and make no mistake,
he’s my partner in rhyme.
He believes he’s no longer
in his prime,
but I’ll tell you this (and you’d agree)
that his prolific poetry
has no specific begin and end time.
And moreover, he’ll turnover
every tune or turn of phrase
to raise the bar.
He’s the pace car.
And he will always be
the poetry man,
to me.

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February 9, 2020

Finding my poetic voice

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A poet and his princess

In April of 2009,
I shyly met poets online.
But there was one who
would help me break through.
I call him my partner in rhyme.

I’m thankful for this man I’ve known for 10 years, but have yet to meet. Without his encouragement, I would never have referred to myself as a “poet.” I’m not the best poet, and never will be, but I am a poet nonetheless. Thank you, Walt. Thank you.

P.S. This little gal looks like she could brighten the darkest of days! ❤