Month: December 2012

Mid-Winter Night’s Dream

Beautiful Fireworks at Night

Beautiful Fireworks at Night (Photo credit:



fingers as cold
as the ice in the creek,
hearts as warm
as the flame of the bonfire,
he felt her snuggle in
against his chest
as he caressed
and kneaded her
(and needed her)
in his arms

together they looked up
at the star-strewn sky,
the closing ceremony
of another year

meandered from
one point to the next
(no brooding
just dreaming),
as each tangent
delivered them
to a place of

fireworks popped
all the new year
will bring

P. Wanken


Inspired by The Sunday Whirl’s Prompt #89: against, creek, ice, deliver, pop, point, tangent, flame, stars, knead, brood, and strewn; and posted on Day #58 for the “100 Days of Fall/Winter 2012” challenge.

Slipping Away


I usually reference the prompts for my poetry at the bottom of my post…but I’m not always sure that they’re read, and I’m not always sure that all readers understand poetry is a craft and therefore the POET is not necessarily the SPEAKER of the poem. While I do incorporate much of myself into my writing, it’s not all autobiographical. And while I do tend toward the melancholy in life, my words of darkness and despair are not always my own voice. When readers send me private messages asking if I’m ok (after reading one of my more depressing pieces), my reply is usually to explain that I was taking liberties with emotions in order to craft a poem.

As 2012 comes to a close, I want to thank each and every one of you for your support. I started writing poetry two years ago this month, and it has been the encouragement from each of you that kept me going, ultimately seeing my poetry published in two different collections. So it is in that context that I want to assure you this is not an autobiographical poem. On the contrary. I am indeed blessed and look forward to what 2013 has in store!



Blind to the light reflected in tinsel
and the shining eyes around her,
numb to the feelings expressed
in each holiday greeting;
she stared blankly at
each passerby,
moment brought
her closer to the end.

P. Wanken


Inspired by Poetic Asides Prompt #203: write a losing/lost poem; and posted for Day #54 for the “100 Days of Fall/Winter 2012” challenge.

(Mental) Anguish



Rare, she was.
An enigma, they said.

To the outsider,
she seemed loved
by many.
Yet she,
in her mind,
could rustle up
no such feeling.
Each thought:
a spasm
of rapid, insistent
as though
by clenched

Of her heart,
one might have said
spacious; filled.
she believed
(it had burst
one too many times,
spilled of love,
filled only with tears).

If only she could
have seen herself
through the eyes
of the lovers
of her soul.

Rare, she was.
An enigma, they said.

P. Wanken


Inspired by The Sunday Whirl’s Prompt #88: rapid, spacious, enigma, clench, spasm, burst, insistent, hurl, seemed, rustle, rare, and through; and posted on Day #50 for the “100 Days of Fall/Winter 2012” challenge.