Poetry Blog by Dan Holtan

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Paul Sayer on War Wounds (7 days ago)

Dan Holtan on Exit Stage Life (13 days ago)

Paul Sayer on Exit Stage Life (13 days ago)

keith jeffries on Exit Stage Life (13 days ago)

Paul Sayer on Loneliness Too (13 days ago)

Subtle Savior

I guess I am afraid less

to be judged, than

to not connect.

You won’t want to know

my logic so perceived 

might also be yours.

That one thing can alert

like a pinch or sting,

brings a dread.

And it confirms a hope

hides within the pursuit, 

only by reaching.

But it is easier to stop

thoughts, stop pulling pain

from wounds ripped open.

If not now, then w...

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War Wounds

Getting slammed, hot damn, and we were doin pretty ok.

Had a view, me and you, of getting past the day to day.

Now we’re stuck, outta luck, can’t plug back in again.

The circuits are shorted, grounded, aborted, can’t guess where or when.

We will go somewhere, do something, ain’t afraid just yet

Trouble is the things we do, we did, may never ever reset.

No time to dip a toe, we go...

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Incite To Write

All the others

I know they are not me.

Ever since I can remember

making comparisons is a fixed game.

They all want something.

Just like me.


So many words 

make simple questions confusing.

The goal becoming hard to imagine

especially being the same

shade of uniqueness.

So why try?


A deep desire

spurs my thoughts awake 

to enter the drama and entic...

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Exit Stage Life

Exit Stage Life


This bothers me now.

I’m not looking forward anymore.

The past is all I have.

I just lived, moved on,

Never thought to dwell.


I need to clean up the mess.

Don’t want loose ends.

No doubt what my body is saying.

Time is such a deceitful enemy, having danced and skipped freely until squeezing my existence away.


Avoidance floods an aged min...

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Loneliness Too


Friends and acquaintances many,

Social opportunities galore,

Push button entertainment gives  

easy selections of programs 

but I’m needing more.


Creeping in like a dream,

The hunger emerges,

Feelings begging attention 

amid all else transpiring 

but not with a chance to ignore.


What little thing is missing?

More a throb than an itch,

The circulat...

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