The bard Burns penned this appropriate song which we haul out at the end of each year. So I choose to open with this lyric, “Should old acquaintance be forgot and never brought to mind…” When applied to this wonderful place of poetry, it seems a grand impossibility! How could we forget these connections we’ve made here at CREATIVE (POETIC) BLOOMINGS?

The end of another year brings thoughts of hope for wonderful new things to come. It also brings a sadness, my personal loss not withstanding. The passing of my Father-in-Law, John Burkowski is a painfully hard pill to swallow, and although he is at peace, his influence will be greatly missed.

Many have shared their condolences and shared their comfort at his loss. Unfortunately, after discussions with my forever-partner and “best friend” (whom I still haven’t met), Marie, we have determined that CREATIVE BLOOMINGS needs to lay fallow for a length of time. Neither of us are able to continue with its tending right now, with familial responsibilities and issues of rather personal nature. Marie and I will be closing the gates here at CB. We will not be locking the gate however, it will remain at this address, as it will continue to be a beautiful place to read our past renderings. Also, any information about the long-awaited second volume of our anthology will be posted as it nears its completion. (Yes, we continue to push it forward). I personally thank every poetic soul who had graced this place, and our hope is to someday return to its viability! So for now, I’ll say, “Stay well. Continue to pose this poetic wonder and give your words to the world! All this talent can surely stand tall on its own merit. You are all considered friends and you are all greatly loved! I thank you for walking this leg of the journey with us!” ~Walt


When you look up garden terms, you find “family.” For Walt and me, this seems quite appropriate. This has been more than just a lovely place to read and write. Inside these garden gates has been a safe haven for sharing thoughts (both uplifting and sad), well-wishes, and even prayer. It has flourished with encouragement. We all have welcomed one another from the far reaches of the earth. If everyone on this planet we call home treated one another as we have in this little poetic garden, there would be no need for the English words of “hate,” “war,” or “racism.”

Even though I had to leave much sooner than I wanted, it felt wonderful knowing Walt was still tilling and tending. Of course, I completely understand his own need to close the gates. Perhaps there will come a day when we can together open them again. In fact, I feel it in my core that it will happen. Until then, thank you all for being a part of my life that makes me smile with every remembrance. ~Marie Elena


Sorry for the late prompt. It has been a trying time during this supposedly joyous season. Christmas came and went and I never had time to notice. There were no memories made this year; a very sad one in the making. However, that is not to say that I have no Christmas memories. Pick a memory you have made over time and make it the basis of your poem.

Please check back on Wednesday for an important announcement!



Wrapped in foil;
red and green,
a plastic saxophone
in the key of C,
a toy to make sing
and bring joy to a boy
musically inclined.
Never mind it was only a toy,
I did enjoy the sound it made,
a serenade to my ear
and for all who could hear.

(C) Walter J. Wojtanik, 2014


You are George Bailey. Write a poem of the world without you. Draw on your accomplishments and tell the effect not achieving them had on you or people around you. Tell how your life has touched another in some way. Be boastful. Be self-deprecating. But remove yourself from the equation that solicited the life you have lived.




The triolet is a short poem of eight lines with only two rhymes used throughout. The requirements of this fixed form are straightforward: the first line is repeated in the fourth and seventh lines; the second line is repeated in the final line; and only the first two end-words are used to complete the tight rhyme scheme. Thus, the poet writes only five original lines, giving the triolet a deceptively simple appearance: ABaAabAB, where capital letters indicate repeated lines.

French in origin, and likely dating to the thirteenth century, the triolet is a close cousin of the rondeau, another French verse form emphasizing repetition and rhyme.



In a melancholy mood, Sinatra soothes.
His dulcet tones come smooth and hypnotic.
One of life’s salient truths,
in a melancholy mood, Sinatra soothes.
Sitting in my listening booth,
Frank’s “magic” is quixotic.
In a melancholy mood, Sinatra soothes.
His dulcet tones come smooth and hypnotic.

© Copyright Walter J. Wojtanik


A terzanelle is a poetic form combining aspects of the villanelle and the terza rima. It is nineteen lines total, with five triplets and a concluding quatrain. The middle line of each triplet stanza is repeated as the third line of the following stanza, and the first and third lines of the initial stanza are the second and final lines of the concluding quatrain; thus, seven of the lines are repeated in the poem. The rhyme scheme and stanzaic structure are as follows (a capitalized letter indicates a line repeated verbatim):





The women folk are distraught; they’re crying
for a man knocking on the door.
Their tears fall as John lays dying.

It seems that we’ve been here before,
another Christmas time in grief
for a man knocking on the door.

Death comes stealing like a thief,
taking what he wants from life,
another Christmas time in grief.
A hard man to figure; a husband, father to my wife,
a grandfather held in the embrace of love
taking what he wants from life.

A fervent prayer to Him above
wanting to ease his suffering, end his pain.
A grandfather held in the embrace of love
and I stand vigil at this time again!
The women folk are distraught; they’re crying,
wanting to ease his suffering, end his pain.
Our tears fall as John lays dying.

© Walter J. Wojtanik, 2014

***I apologize for the lateness of the form. I currently sit at Brothers of Mercy Nursing Facility in Buffalo, in the Hospice ward. We are in constant vigil for my father-in-law, John Burkowski, to draw his last breath in this life. Suffering from cancer, a brain injury, Parkinson’s, dementia and in the throes of renal failure, John continues to hold onto life with a remarkable courage. We can only wait so long until emotion gets the best of us and we seek relief. My release comes in poetic forms. This poem depicts my state.


73 years ago, the Japanese bombed Pearl Harbor propelling the United States into World War II. Using that as your inspiration write your poem. You’re a survivor. You’re a place or thing. You are a memory waiting to be written.



The Hawaiian skies are so blue,
flecks of clouds add contrast.
A Sunday morning that carries
no warning or cause for alarm.
No harm can come on a beautiful
day like today. You should live to
remember such days as this.

(C) Walter J. Wojtanik, 2014



Whether it’s Christmas, or Chanukah, or Kwanzaa, we are in the mind of celebrating the holiday that is dear to us. That includes family, food (and some drink) and gifts. We as poets love a good book. So it is time to present an opportunity to hawk your tomes and collections if you so wish. We agree hey make great gifts.

So, if you have a book to sell (of even swap, if you so choose) present your case in a comment and we’ll try to bring that together. Share a link to your page, or where the book can be had, and you will share your worded wonder with others. ‘Tis the season to be reading’! Ho! Ho! Ho! to borrow a line from a friend of mine!


Vers Beaucoup 

The Vers Beaucoup, a poem for created by Curt Mongold, which is French for “many rhymes”. Each stanza consists of four lines with a rhyming word scheme of:


Each rhyme can only use a MAXIMUM of three words. The fourth “a” rhyme carried over to the second line causes enjambment and creates a strong internal rhyming structure. The poem can be any number of stanzas.

An example of the form with the rhyming words capitalized for clarity:




I KNOW by the GLOW of the SNOW

a SHOW was SET to begin. But if we GET

WET then the RAIN is what will STAIN

and REMAIN to be FOUND on the GROUND all day!

(C) Walter J. Wojtanik, 2014