We’re looking off into the near distance, searching our horizon for the next big thing. Every adventure is out there for our taking as long as we’re making a concerted effort to reach for it. Of course, writing a horizon poem will work for you here as well. Or take a new look at an old thing and make it new (relatively) again! We stand on the cusp of that brave new world. Where will it take you?


Fog may blur your view
of hope on the horizon,
but it’s no less there.




 I return with regularity. To empty my mind; to achieve clarity. And it is a rarity that I can attain both. But along this shoreline, life reveals itself. It pulls memories from my mental shelves and splays them before me in these azure skies. Sights for my weary eyes, it is no surprise that I return. These thoughts inspire by my mind’s mire! 

 I find a place, a space where I can plant myself. And vacate the moment, searching the horizon for some semblance of beauty that reminds me of you. The sky is blue. But, it is not maudlin, nor melancholy. Brilliant and bright and jolly, cloud pocked and wholly enveloping. And portraits of you start developing in my heart.

 seagulls take their terns
 we are birds of a feather 
we soar to the clouds    

 © Walter J. Wojtanik - 2022


Walt here. So, I stand on the cusp of a new adventure in my life. I will be retiring in June (June 3rd to be exact). And being within the month, I’ve been keeping silent count of the remaining days. I figured that’s a good point to use as reference, so here’s what I propose..

A COUNTDOWN TO ______________

Write of the anticipated something in your life in a countdown to that momentous occasion. That’s the theme, but you can word it however you wish to convey your thoughts. I’m counting on you all to do me proud (you’ve never let me down!) I don’t anticipate you’ll start now.


In Line for the Roller Coaster

Unease climbs in sync
with hills I see, and dwindling
line ahead of me.

© Marie Elena Good 2022

(Memories that make me shudder, lol!)



I turn each page gleaning all I can
from the information at hand.
But, it has become a time clockj
of late. Ticking down every minute
and second chance, a fated dance
with my mortality. The reality
becomes clearer the nearer the end
rears its head. Another birthday passes,
another Christmas looms.
Another year at a job
that has served the family well
(but not well off by any stretch).
Here’s the catch. I look forward
to the golden years (if they are granted me).
I’ll make no demands or make
outrageous plans. Retirement comes
and gladly before I’ve expired.
I’m starting to get tired. There’s a new
calendar in my future. I pray
there is a future in my new calendar!
I turn each page while I can.

© Walter J. Wojtanik – 2022


Quick question:  What would you do with an unexpected million dollars? Shower us with your poetic stash.  😉


Too Much

I’m just not the lottery kind.
I don’t have a rich frame of mind.
If my stash quickly grew,
I’d just give it to … who?
Guess I’d just leave that big check unsigned.

© Marie Elena Good, 2022



Money cannot buy happiness,
even the misery it buys isn't that great.
But for the sake of this debate
I'd take that million and buy a million people's dreams.
silly as it seems, I'd replace their dreams with a new reality
foregoing life's banality and offering
a better life than whatever strife they may possess;
turn their failure into great success, and I confess
I would be happy to oblige their whimsy
just to show them how flimsy their wishes would be.
Maybe they'll see that they never needed more than 
they already had. It's not that bad to have just enough.
Life is rough enough without the added burden.
It would be absurd to think otherwise.

© Walter J Wojtanik, 2022


Last week, we wrote Origins poems.  This week, we ask you to write Finished poems.  Perhaps you completed a course, or a paper.  Maybe a relationship ended.  This month, maybe you are wondering if you will make it to the end of a Poem-a-Day challenge. 😀 You may try using a synonym for a lesser-used definition, like “wrecked,” or “polished.” Maybe you’ll simply complete a poem or thought. 

In any case, we look forward to seeing your finished product!



It is my belief that when Jesus said he died once for all, He meant it.  It is my belief that when Jesus said, “All that the Father gives me will come to me, and whoever comes to me I will never cast out,” He meant it.  It is my belief that when Jesus said, “For I have come down from heaven, not to do my own will, but the will of Him who sent me,” He meant it.  It is my belief that when Jesus said, “And this is the will of Him who sent me, that I should lose nothing of all that He has given me, but raise it up on the last day,” He meant it. It is my belief that when God said He created every star, and calls each by name, He meant it.  It is my belief that when God said, “See, I have written your name on the palms of my hands,” He meant it.

And I believe when
Jesus, near death, said, “It is
finished,” He meant it.

© Marie Elena Good, 2022



I hearken to my Father 
And he knows my voice. 
His will is my choice; 
I will do as he asks. 
No greater task have I 
Than to die for the sins of many. 
I call to my Father “They do not know  
and they show no mercy” 
“Abba, Father, I give my spirit. 
It is finished! 

(C) Walter J Wojtanik- 2022


For those participating in one of the April Poem-a-Day challenges (such as Robert Lee Brewer’s, where many of us got our start in writing and sharing poems), we wish you an inexhaustible poetry excursion! Here at Poetic Bloomings, we will continue offering our Sunday morning prompts for you.

Today, let’s start at the beginning.  Maybe the first line of a story you are writing, or the seed of a new poem trying to sprout. Perhaps the book of Genesis.  Your ancestry. The root of a problem. Wherever you decide to begin, please end with sharing your poem here for us to enjoy.   We’ve already begun looking forward to your response!


To think that my God
had no beginning leaves me
peace-filled for my end.

© Marie Elena Good, 2022



 My slate had been wiped clean, 
and I had broken away from the pack. 
Logic dictated that poetic reprobates 
stay close to the web and band together, 
whether to froth at the mouth 
or to discuss the change of weather.

 © Walter J. Wojtanik 


We call this our garden, and rightfully so.  The beauty that blooms here is lovely and diverse.  There are the staple perennials, and then there are those blooms that pop up here and there to dot our landscape with unanticipated presence. 

St. Patrick’s Day is pea-planting day — the first day of planting in our colder-weather regions. As we all celebrate spring’s arrival, let’s grace our garden with poems about planting.  Plant seeds.  Plant a thought.  Transplant yourself.  Even root for your team.  😉  Let’s make this garden flourish!  


Leaking Information

My husband says he has to pea,
when planting season’s come to be.
At dinner time, he peas on the floor.
That’s uncalled for. And furthermore,
when he refers to he and me,
should I suspect he’s saying wee?

© Marie Elena Good, 2022

(Sorry, guys. It’s what came to mind. 😉 )



Spring is ready to be sprung,
It's time to toil in the soil!
There's so much beauty to behold 
As wee emerge from winter's cold.
Flowers soon will raise their blooms
Like children sneaking from their rooms
Can you dig it? I knew you could!

(C) Walter J Wojtanik, 2022


The truth, the whole truth and nothing but the … squirrel! People seem to get distracted by the narrative. That shiny bauble is alluring but elusive. But to tell the truth, we’re taking about honesty. Some say it’s a ”lost art” and they may be right. So honestly, you have a choice. Write an honesty poem. Or write a dishonest poem. No ifs, ands, or … squirrels!


Poetic License

I would tell you the truth if I could,
but I’m not really sure if I should.
So I’ll let you just think
that I’m truthful (wink, wink)
when I’m honestly up to no good.

I would tell you the truth if I knew it,
but I’d likely be lying all through it.
Speaking truth’s not my thing –
too much yarn to unstring.
When it comes to a lie, I just spew it.

If you think the above are not lies,
then I think I deserve a big prize
for my words really threw you
and all this is due to
a license to just poetize.

© Marie Elena Good, 2022



I got something to tell you that I never thought I would
But I believe you really ought to know

I love you
I honestly love you

~Song Lyric: ”I Honestly Love You”

You know I’ve loved you all your life, and gave you all that I possibly could, 
and I’ve  promised to love you all my life, 
in your heart you know I would.. There is no one that I love above you.
I love you. I honestly love you.

I hadn’t said it enough, i fear, 
I feel a gladness when you're here.  the gentle smile to grace your face. you bring your presence to this place 
you know how much my words can move you.
I love you, I honestly love you! 

Please don’t feel uncomfortable,
but if you love someone, please let them know
If you get the chance, take the chance to say honestly,
I love you,
I honestly love you!


We’re thinking animals this week. It’s a fact that animals are blessed with certain instincts and traits to aid in their survival. We know a cheetah is very fast. We’ve all heard of how “wise” an owl is. Squirrels are gatherers. Dogs are loyal; cats aloof… Take an animal trait or instinct and use that as your inspiration for your poetry. Mild or wild, get “animalistic” on us!


Animals can’t be
who they are not. Do you see
God’s fingerprints there?

© Marie Elena Good 2022



Silently they graze,
and suddenly in a dusty haze
they kick up their hooves 
and raise the roofs,
a guaranteed stampede indeed.
You can hear them rumble,
yet they remain humble,
they hear nature's call
as one by one their obstacles fall.
And from the deepest of chills
you can hear them shout,
Go Bills!


Bowie smiling
David Bowie in 2002

It’s a new year. Hopefully we’ll experience changes in a positive way. (Not anything like the past couple of years). And as we think of changes, who knew change better than the Thin White Duke, David Bowie, who would have celebrated his 75th birthday yesterday. Bowie was instrumental in changing music. He changed his style (think Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders From Mars vs. Little Drummer Boy with Bing Crosby). He had changed his persona on a few occasions, always morphing into different versions of himself. Then there is one of his hit singles, “Changes.”

We’re writing a change poem. Change can do you good. And the aspect of change, from spare change, to loose change, to whatever change you can imagine. Perhaps change your poetic style for this one. You decide whether bad or good, but make your Ch-ch-ch-ch-ch-changes flow!



I’m itchin’ to upgrade, and pitchin’ a fit.
For now, I’m afraid, I have zilch to submit.
While someone is flippin’ through pages of verse,
I want my name there before I’m in a hearse.
It’s paltry and petty, this dream I’ve unfurled. 
Improvin’ at versin’ can’t worsen the world.

© Marie Elena Good, 2022



I've found myself slowing down a bit,
pitching less of a fit and finding the groove
I'm in moves me in a whole new direction.
I'm in no hurry of late, not looking to become
the late, great Walt. It's my fault, bringing
so much passion to my words that you've heard
before. I'm more sedate, (that's debatable)
less stable with all my cards on the table.
The best cards held close to the vest
have long been played. Not looking 
to cash my chips in just yet. I forget where
I had left them. I'll get them neatly stacked
and be back for the final deal. So my steps
have faltered a smidge and Walter by the fridge
is where you'll find me. Don't mind me.
As long as I've got a few arms up my sleeves,
I'll leave here writing verse. It could be worse.
I could be riding in the back of the hearse,
instead of giving the funeral director directions.


As we close in on Christmas, we are surrounded by the trappings of the season. Pick an item associated with Christmas and write a Christmas poem from that item’s point of view. It could be an ornament, or a branch on Christmas tree. It might be an angel tree topper or a figurine from your nativity creche. What does the donkey see? The Star of Bethlehem? Christmas from a different perspective.

We are fortunate this week to get an early Christmas gift, in the guise of our Marie Elena Good rejoining us. It is a Good present indeed!


Cross of Christ

My place atop the Christmas tree
may seem a lofty place for me,
but humbly, I point down below
through greenery and lights aglow
to manger scene that holds the Christ
who paid the price in sacrifice
for every woman, man, and child –
this perfect Lamb – this undefiled
Rescuer, Redeemer, God
I represent, and richly laud.

© Marie Elena Good, 2021



Each year, they bring me out to celebrate, 
and I wait in silent vigil, keeping watch
over everything Christmas. My uniform
is well appointed and my double jointed
jaw may have me cracking jokes
or other nutty things. Mouse Kings
and sugarplum faeries complete my circle.
I do enjoy the joyous music this time of year.
My job is to protect and serve with nerves 
of oak, just like any bloke who chooses
to enlist their service. Yet, I'm nervous.
I'm suspicious of that elf up on that shelf!

(c) Walter J Wojtanik - 2021