THIS BIRD HAS FLOWN

Orientation.
A romp through new digs.
It figures I end up a lone wolf
when the cub heads out. There
is no doubt that she will succeed.
Indeed, she will set the pace
in this place of higher learning.
Yearning to be free, it is she
who will stand tall. I should have known
this bird has flown. Empty nest and all.

FATHER'S HAND

"A street is no place to play"
you would say as you clasped her
hand, gentle in its unsurety.
Held in the purity of her heart,
she sees you as a leader.

"Look both ways" you would say,
"to be sure that it's okay"
And she stand toes-to-curb erect,
able to detect the proper moment
that she will follow her leader.

"Hold my hand" you assure her,
your tender flower with the enthusiasm
of a sponge; waiting to sop up all
that you pour before her. She looks up
and smiles. "You lead, Daddy."

Lessons learned at her father's hand,
the kind of man she wishes to grace her life,
when she is ready to become a wife.
Standing at the end of this magnificent aisle,
she'll take your hand. Walking together once again.

All in the name of her father's hand.



Walt

HAIKU

cradling tenderly
a cherished friend’s aching heart
in hands that can’t hold

Marie Elena


My friend, I'm at a loss. I did not make it to FB, PA, or Across the Lake yesterday. On FB this morning, I saw that many of the dear souls at PA were posting words of comfort on your wall. I visited PA to see what was happening.

There is nothing harder than watching in vain as your child struggles with pain that is unfair, out of your control, and inconsolable. My heart is with you and your wife, Andrea, and the family of this lost soul. May he be at rest now in the arms of Jesus.

Your heart is aching for your sweet Andrea, her classmate, lost family, and lost love … it is too much. God give you strength and comfort, Walt. And may He remind me throughout today to hold you all in prayer.

MELISSA

A woman in charge,
barging into life with ambition,
a condition she's served well
in twenty-five years, that's my "Mel".
Confident and secure, demure
to make a princess curse.
My first born and my best
critic. Mimicked, but never duplicated.
I've waited all these years to see,
the younger version of me
in a prettier package. Glad to be Dad.
Happy Birthday, Kid!


Walt

NOT WELL OFF, BETTER OFF

So, a few less dollars grace my pockets,
and no sky rocket celebrations in the offing.
And maybe my offspring don't inherit any more
than their mother's good looks
and their father's well turned phrases.
At this phase in my life, my wife and I,
though preferring a lifestyle upgrade,
have decided that our pride and upbringing,
could have us singing in the rain,
instead of preying on that rainy day pittance.
Our daughters have learned well, and it tells
in the way they carry their grace and name,
and although they are not the same by any stretch
of my over-active imagination, they know their staion.
It might seem that we have no ambition to position
ourselves on the ladder of success, but I guess
raising these beauties with an eye towards
bettering themselves and the world around them,
is worth its weight in a life well lived.
We're not well off, but are much better off in the long run.

Walt

OF LOSS AND REMEMBRANCE AT CHRISTMASTIME

Years pass.
Christmas never changes.
In the exchange of gifts and greeting
there is a meeting of hearts and it starts.
Thoughts of voices that have been silenced
and smiles that have faded into misty memory.
Melancholy peeks through the windows
of a heart broken soul; a token show of
love for loved ones long vacant.
At some point you anoint these recollections;
a status of legend and immortality takes hold.
We remember Christmases of long ago as if
they are visions of a changeable future.
It nurtures us and give our sorrow rest.
The tomorrows are the best when our steps
are guided and propelled by the lessons learned.
Through our losses, we remember the wonder of love
and we will be healed by it; the gift of Christmas.


Walt

GUINNESS

Brown, in layers,
much like it pours.
Thickly rich,
an acquired taste.
A shame to let any waste.
So much better with
a cold nose.
She grows on me.
long and lean,
a playful bark,
a stark difference
from when she was rescued.
As she's viewed,
an acquired taste,
glad my daughter didn't
let her waste. Thickly,
rich little dachshund,
brown, in layers
much like she pours.
Not much of a beer drinker,
but I thinks I can love me
some Guinness!



Walt                                                                                            Photo by Melissa L. Wojtanik

ER

 

Silently she sits,
vigilant, ever-concerned.

More trouble than a Good

and loving soul should stand.

Making a grand plea for peace
for a troubled daughter,

an aging father, and
a mother-in-law that is

as Good as her name.

Just the same, she'd rather

cuddle on the couch,

contemplating poetry
and wearing her "Buckeye Pride",
while inside there is
a sentinel, a guard of her sanity

and her heart. Always that Good man

near to keep her well-rounded,

grounded in her faith; relief

in every belief on which she was raised.

Praise to He who is deserving,

never swerving from her heart.

But for now, she sits.

Silently. Steadfast.

Good to the last.

Walt

HAIKU

Music to my ears

Sang through the telephone line:

“You are a grandma.”

NO MATTER WHERE YOU GO, THERE YOU ARE

I can't believe it's you.
You look regal; majestic.
Amongst your peers,
and yet, you stand out in that crowd.

Quiet, unassuming and blooming
into the strong and determined woman
we quietly prayed you'd be.
Finally finding your way,

on the course to a dream.
We should have known.
Your sister worships you
for she knows, she'd be

less well off without your influence.
The games you played despite
your seven year age difference,
put you on the course

to take your spot on that stage.
You played school, the two of you.
She, the eager student.
You, the patient teacher.

You taught her an alphabet.
You showed her math skills.
She acquired reading skills at three,
thanks to your loving tutelage.

She learned what you taught,
as she continues to do today. I've never
seen her so proud as when you walked
across that platform to take

what was well earned and deserving.
You graduate today.
Now you are certified to do
what you've done all your life.

Teach. You've even taught me
a thing or two. Because of you,
I've learned that beauty and brains
are a lethal combination but

hold great power in the proper hands.
I've learned that my methods weren't as
maddening as I feared, giving you
a firm bit of ground on which

to make your stand. And I get
the sense that I'm not letting you go
out into the world unprepared to deal
with life, I'm giving you to the world

to give others the pleasure of your smile,
the warmth of your personality,
the courage of your convictions,
and the same advantage your sister had

in learning how to survive this life.
For no matter where you go, there you are!



*** Last night, I sat in awe of my daughter Melissa, the little girl/turned confident young woman who graduated with honors from the University of Buffalo with her Masters degree in Childhood Education. I've seen the power of what she could do, long before she decided to do what she was meant to: teach. I am the proud father. (If you couldn't already tell!)

Walt

WHEN LEAST EXPECTED...

I received a surprise invitation for lunch this afternoon. My wife Janice, suggested we go to our favorite Italian Restaurant, Ilio DiPaolo's Ringside Lounge. It prompted me to post the following piece:


Ilio DiPaolo

A man among men,
a towering teddy bear
with a heart of gold
and the Midas touch
with children and Fagioli.

A professional wrestler in the golden age,
before the mass media theatrics,
and soap opera story lines,
Ilio played both sides of
his rope lined office.

But his renown and fame came after the ring,
as restaurateur was Ilio's acclaim,
a gentle giant with a table side manner
quick with the greeting and a lively banter
laced with his strong Abruzzian accent.

A fifth anniversary dinner at his "Ringside Lounge",
brought the “newlyweds” and their four year old Melissa,
To dine and be regaled by the wrestling memorabilia.
A daughter in awe of the Romanesque portrait
of this Adonis in grappling gear.

He emerged from the kitchen; to initiate his small talk
and devour my daughter’s young face with his large meaty hands,
planting a kiss on the forehead of his “Little Sweetie”.
She made the connection, as did he. His departure prompted her response.
“Daddy, that Mr. Apollo was a nice man!”



Author Note:  Ilio DiPaolo was a local Buffalo Celebrity. He died in 1995 after being struck by a car during a torrential downpour. Ilio DiPaolo was indeed, a nice man.



Walt

BROOKLYN

Veiled within your mantle tissue,

Nests a rare and precious pearl.

Spin protective beauty ‘round her;

Let your nacreous tiers unfurl.

Marie Elena

Photo by Steve Gertz

TMI PLEDGE

My youngest daughter (Little Miss Monologue) came home from Pre-K oh-so-excited to tell me she knows the Pledge of Allegiance by heart. In her usual auctioneer style, she gave me her no-pause, no-breath rendition:

"I pledge allegiance to the flag of the United States of America and to the republic for which it stands one nation under God indivisible with liberty and justice for all thank you you may be seated.”
 
Marie Elena

SCHIZOPHRENIA

Before she claimed over 1800 lives;
Before she flooded parishes,
And displaced thousands;
Before she wreaked catastrophic havoc
On the levees of New Orleans;
Before she hit southeast Louisiana;
Before making her second landfall;
Before gaining strength in the Gulf of Mexico;
Before she formed over the Bahamas;
Before a drop of rain fell;
Before she eyed her target;
You were engulfed.

Marie Elena

A GATHERING OF HEARTS

A celebration.
A wake of sorts.
On the death of a Father,
a gathering of hearts
to herald the lives of parents
who had epitomized love
in that ancestral home.
A large sitting room;
a large dining room.
But, a cramped kitchen
was chosen to host that fete.
A conjoining of siblings
long removed from that hallowed ground
to rediscover the essence of them
in the presence of their spirit.
Do you hear it? Faint whispers,
contented sighs. Finally.
Brought together again for a cause.
A joyous pause regaled in lore,
lost in raucous laughter
after a long and painful struggle.
An atmosphere she would have loved.
A festive reunion he would have led.
One last communion: a Last Supper
given in tribute to the Mother who
bore and fed them, and a Father
who wore more hats than they knew.
Tried on for size, but never filling
his shoes. They could live with that.
In the presence of their spirit,
in the place that was home.

Walt                                                                                                              Photo by Walt Wojtanik

MEL AND ANDI

Sisters in the truest sense of the word.

Seven years removed, but time

has a way of balancing things.

Andrea two inches taller

than her older sister is more wise,

But, it comes as no surprise

how the chasm in time has found a way

to heal itself. Equals in every way,

sharing in a vague sense of the word, but

never at a loss for a friend.

Of a single mind and purpose,

working out of the same closet,

and offering the support for

lives that have so far given

all they could have wanted.

A safe home, a loving father,

a caring mother, and each other.

Teacher and learner, in no

particular order. Daddy's "Little" girls.
In the garden of my life, my American Beauty Roses, 

Melissa and Andrea.

Walt