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John White Anderson, Repose (1895)

Repose, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

Since our first acquaintance a fiery thought,
Of you runs deep into a vacant heart,
That I cannot bare to see us apart.
Knowing for the heart it will lead to naught,
For as feelings are I am overwrought.
Didn’t know it was love from the very start.
Forlorn am I, the family stalwart.
If possible, love had been aforethought.

My feelings for you are same as you claim,
But no sign did I see or feel from you.
Take me should it be love you still proclaim.
Remember that you sent me brother to.
Love you never to publicly acclaim,
However heart will forever be true.

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The Empty Table

Painting by Laurent Parcelier

The Empty Table, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

Like several evening meetings before
I stand at the special empty table
Waiting for the woman whom I adore
Searching for inner calmness if able

She’s the one who gives me such a feeling
Of weightlessness. I’m flying like a cloud
While my heart flutters as the birds of spring
Wanting to yell about my love aloud

Every second that passes is an hour
I’m a child waiting for a Christmas toy
Her tender lips am wishing to devour
While in her embrace there will be such joy

Her soft smile is but a few feet away
Oh those words of love I’m about to say

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Midnight Sky

Midnight Sky, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

I lay looking out at the midnight sky,
Overwhelmed by what is before my eyes.
No object able to identify,
Such vastness, amazement it multiplies.

Distant objects were once personified,
Relishing them as gods and goddesses.
As some brought smiles while others terrified,
Wanted most from many were their blesses.

Times changed but not the beauty of the view.
Knowledge takes us now where not gone before,
With each passing day finding something new,
Yet great hunger desires for even more.

Me, just happy to enjoy the heavens,
Still searching for all those nasty dragons.

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My Train Ride

Edvard Munch, Train Smoke (1900)

My Train Ride, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

Life is like a train ride, from birth to death.
We all know our final destination,
Yet there can be solace along the way.

The train makes many stops on its journey,
For its passengers to gather postcards,
And bright stickers to place on their baggage

I see many babies coming aboard,
Held so securely, in their mothers’ arms
With no understanding of the event

At stops, relatives and friends disembark.
Some wave joyfully as the train departs,
Others trodden off, all I see are backs.

I look at my disheveled bag, and smile,
There is not anymore room for stickers,
Then I close my eyes, to see my postcards.

Awakened, I feel the train slowing down.
It makes a grinding, screeching, ugly sound.
Oh, this is my stop, I must now get off!

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The Muse Erato

Tadeusz Styka, Girl Playing Lyre (c.1930)

The Muse Erato, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

Erato, name so true, thou art my muse.
Gazing upon thy beauty motivates.
Thy every movement provides many cues,
While words from thy lips so invigorate.

My pen never tires when writing of thee,
Though thou be a far distance from my touch.
Eyes tightly closed I feel thee before me,
The vision I feel of thee is nonesuch.

Over my heart, Oh, the power thou has,
To do whatever be thy desired will,
As I am helpless captured by thy snares.
Of this shall write ‘til my body is still.

Why is it then that I must write so free?
So the future knows of my love for thee.

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The Shepherdess

William-Adolphe Bouguereau, The Shepherdess (1889)

The Shepherdess, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

An explorer to this emerald land,
Seeking natural pleasures for my eyes.
Craggy hills of green making views so grand,
Sure to provide many natural highs.

Path made gentle by centuries of hoof.
At the hilltop my eyes captured the sea.
Feelings of having the world in my loof.
Turning a beautiful sight I did see.

Putting my heart in a state of rapture,
It was I now in the palm of her hand.
Was it possible to be love for sure?
If be questioned will follow heart’s command.

My days of exploring have just ended,
With smiles to the village we descended.

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Reflective Sunrise

Warren Sheppard, Reflective Sunrise (c 1885)

Reflective Sunrise, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

The orange ball in view beyond the blue,
Is my partner to show the straight away.
Talk not do we but the signs ever true.
Wisp of red is above my head this day.

Twice per day does the froth clear my view,
Of a history now to be forgotten.
The morning does show four, two beside two,
Small next to large have I seen so often.

All in all do they in equal stride,
Then to hurriedly change to toe meets toe.
Cadence doth repeat while the froth does bide.
Swiftly they are halfed. Why? Only to know?

Search as I may, the small not for me to see,
While the large are now pointing to the sea.

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Loving a Woman

Adolphe-Joseph-Thomas Monticelli, Cock Fight in Front of a Group of Young Women

Loving a Woman, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

There is not a woman I could not love
Though each different in a special way
For all are sent with God’s love from above
Surely this heart they’ll be able to sway

Not to say I give my heart too freely
Feelings that only a woman can hold
Yet I find something to love so dearly
With power to make my weakened knees fold

With internal strength of a lioness
Yet yielding to a stream of countless tears
Can provide unlimited tenderness
Just as able to couch her endless fears

Weary hearts a woman can gently lift
I give thanks to God for a loving gift

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Love That Was

Love That Was, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

The open face fireplace roars and crackles
Moving ever so close to feel its heat
In the cherry red flames I see angels
Here to help in my ferocious defeat

Shivering, isolated in my grief
While my head spinning like a Ferris wheel
Lingering helplessly in disbelief
Inside my heart it is death that I feel

Consumed by dark thoughts of a verbal war
Face to face, anger redder than this fire
Words were a sharp pike, at my heart it tore
Further life I have no biting desire

Her handkerchief shall take to my cold grave
Such torment from a love that I couldn’t save

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I am Winter

Hynais Zima, Vojtěch (c. 1890)

I am Winter, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

I am Winter, of me you should not fear.
There is good reason that I am now here.
It best you listen with a quiet ear.
Is my desire to help avoid nadir.

It is now time to slow down your action.
What has passed surely cannot be undone.
The blame for your actions you cannot shun.
Prepare the way, new life must be begun.

Think very clearly, make not a mistake,
As previous year, there’ll be no retake.
Those bad habits, best for you to forsake,
A new sense of caring, you should awake.

I shall return, there be no denial.
On my next visit hope to see you smile.

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Strolling in a Wooded Landscape

Strolling in a Wooded Landscape, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

Life as in Death is ever waiting to see
Not really knowing what is to be
Stopping to think is this really me
Will there ev’r be an answer to my plea

Am I living a dream within a dream
Being honestly knowing what things seem
Staring, wondering is my life beseem
Is it possible my soul to redeem?

Were I a mere ant scurrying onward
Never able to speak a single word
My inner most thoughts never to be heard
Would I some sort of penalty incurred?

Shall my worth be measured by word or deed
If deed from this body I must be freed

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Together Forever

Together Forever, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

In our lives let us share our every breath,
So that in our days we will be as one,
Until the very moment of our death.

This is not to say our lives shall be eath,
With challenges to make life come undone.
In our lives let us share our every breath.

We’ll toil to make life of the crusty earth.
Each day beaten down by the scorching sun,
Until the very moment of our death.

Joined together we will expand our breadth.
Increasing our chances we shall have won.
In our lives let us share our every breath.

Together our lives shall be bound in truth.
Such love for the other we shall not shun,
Until the very moment of our death.

No other do I care to share life with,
For it’s you whom I loved since time begun.
In our lives let us share our every breath,
Until the very moment of our death.

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What’ll Summer Bring

What’ll Summer Bring

‘Tis the mid of May
Thoughts locked up I wish to say
Every day I fight
Searching for the hidden code
To free feelings inside stowed

My thoughts put to word
Have way too long been deterred
Pain has such power
As a stone dropped upon glass
Thoughts shattered never to pass

My mind is a cloud
I fear that it is a shroud
Holding me captive
Breathing yet a prisoner
Howling as if a beggar

What’ll the summer bring?
Wishing more than birds who sing
Thoughts freely flowing
Words riding the summer breeze
Turning to fruit on the trees

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Many Thoughts of You

Many Thoughts of You, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

The dawn’s energy nudges my body
While the sun rays crawls past my window shade
To wake my body, I firmly resist
For my deepest dream and I will not part

Clearing my mind of many earthly woes
That impact my body but not my soul
Thinking of deep love and my mind takes flight
Searching for your warm heart where I may light

Once inside you there is euphoria
If within another constellation
Two minds exchanging their deepest feelings
But remains a sense of separation

I need fulfillment in your human touch
To feel your breath upon my mortal skin
Experiencing joys of carnal love
To savor the taste so sweet from your kiss

You shall continue to enter my dreams
Giving me constant comfort through the night
Of past joys and desires of days to come
But the greatest joy is your tender touch

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The Storm

The Storm, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

O that rain which comes in the darkest night
Shaking angrily my bedroom window
With its booming thunder and scaring light

Even glass within is showing some fright
A minor crack now beginning to show
O that rain which comes in the darkest night

Feeling that it rattles me just for spite
Tries to make within a horrific woe
With its booming thunder and scaring light

Bring my poor heart beat to a deathly height
Driving rain delivers its mighty blow
O that rain which comes in the darkest night

Makes my knuckles turn a ghastly pale white
Wondering what damages will it sow
With its booming thunder and scaring light

Now I’m waiting for the sun to shine bright
To spare me from this dark night’s awful glow
O that rain which comes in the darkest night
With its booming thunder and scaring light

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The Kiss (Le Baiser) by Auguste Rodin.

The Kiss (Le Baiser), a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

Tween thee and me, no words need to be said.
Beating hearts, the only sound to be heard.
Thy wispiest of smiles moves me to bed.
Perfumed air holds scent of love undeterred.

Inflamed am I touching thy golden hair,
Gently with finger tracing thy mint lips.
Leaning into thee I drink of thy air.
Thy peerless beauty begs euphoric trips.

Eros has made my heart a slave to thee,
It is thee shall I forever adore.
In your tender arms sheltered I’m to be,
Touch of thy flesh desired does my blood soar.

Every time our lips do quietly meet,
I sip of love’s fountain ever so sweet.

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Girl Seated by the Seashore

On the Seashore, George Elgar Hicks, 1879

Girl Seated by the Seashore, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

The salt in the air
The ocean breeze in my hair
The sun shines above
The white sand between my toes
The slow life that I have chose

Life at the blue sea
Without question completes me
Giving peace of mind
No matrix needed to learn
No other place do I yearn

See the breaking dawn
Walking in the early morn
Listen to the waves
Each gently rolling my way
Each a little child at play

Days never a bore
The coast with much to explore
Gifts from rising tide
Such interesting treasures
Providing countless pleasures

The glow of the ball
Of bright orange sends its call
Day is near its end
Clouds looking like neon lights
My watching eyes it excites

Seagulls leave the shore
I retreat behind my door
With little to say
But offering thanks I pray
That I was given this day

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Lovers’ Pledge

Ozias Leduc, Still Life, Study by Candlelight (Nature morte, étude à la lumière d’une chandelle), 1893, oil on canvas, 36.1 x 46.2 cm, National Gallery of Canada, Ottawa.

Lovers’ Pledge, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

The glow of candles showed her nakedness
She slowly motions to come take a rest
My pillow is her breast of such softness
Hearing her heart beat the closer I pressed

All venial matters soon disappeared
While passing my hands over virgin silk
Stopping at such places my heart endeared
To kiss her flesh as white a pure fresh milk

The torrid heat of passion warmed our flesh
Sending the scent of love into the air
Like serpents our eager bodies enmesh
Hearts at the limits of what they can bare

The heat of passion pushed us to the edge
Where we happily took the lovers’ pledge

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At the Altar of Love

At the Altar of Love, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

Lovers embrace at the altar of love.
Before them a milieu of millions came.
Each smiles at Artemis’s glow from above.
Here to praise Venus for love be her name.

The mist in the air does their love anoint.
Their wetness becomes symbol of union.
At the crash of the wave to it they point,
Such thunder won’t disturb their communion.

Remiss would they be, not to read each wave,
For the lovers, they are moments they share.
With understanding, a love they can save.
Their eyes held with magical force; they stare.

Their love for each other is the reason,
They’ll be together whatever season.

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Her Ruby Red Lips

Her Ruby Red Lips, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

Ruby red lips, coated by evening dew.
As they move toward me, heart’s pace bolted.
She stops and offers petite smile askew.
Deep breath taken, my heart is restarted.

Again towards me with, finger in lead,
Fully removed from between her hot lips.
Enjoyed its taste, wanting her more to feed.
Patience being needed to come to grips.

All during dinner, heart strings she did pull,
Stoking the fires of vivid emotion.
Seeing her lips became ever painful.
My heart is seeking some kind of action.

Paid the bill, we were quickly out the door,
Ruby red lips so eager to explore.

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Lost to an Unknown

Lost to an Unknown, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

Walking while holding the fluttering bag,
Twisted and turned responding to the wind,
Like a hyper dog tethered on a leash.
Suddenly a wind burst set the bag free.

Stood there paralyzed in raw disbelief.
Like a balloon it rose high and higher.
Where would she go? What would happen to her?
Gone from my sight not to see her again!

As she took flight why was there no pursuit?
Was she not worth the effort to expend?
Or unlearned of a way to get her back?

It’s winter with the many naked trees
Their branches like pikes waiting for a chance
To put its cold steel tip into her heart

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Called by My Savior’s Love

George Dmitreiv, Warm Evening on the Sea

Called by My Savior’s Love, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

The mighty waves roar
Pounding, pounding at the shore
Foaming rabidly
Viciously pulling me in
Death did finally begin

Down, down I did go
To the cold darkness below
Motionless I am
To be a meal for the fish
Surely not my final wish

The bells did not toll
At the rising of my soul
A light of pure white
Fleeing to the glow above
Called by my Savior’s love

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Missing Her Warmth

Edvard Munch, The Sun (1909)

Missing Her Warmth, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

The end of the day
Darkness pushes her away
Now not to be seen
Her brilliant smile on my face
Gone! Without a single trace

Searching was in vain
Each moment increasing the pain
Falling to my knees
Wildly calling out her name
My love for her I proclaim

Great is her beauty
Traveling about blithely
With magic power
Everything grows with her touch
As my love for her did such

This heart isn’t of steel
Ripped so deep never to heal
Red upon the ground
Mortally wounded I wept
Without reasoning I slept

Warmth upon my brow
That I survived know not how
Kisses fall softly
Explains why she made her flight
Though she’d like, can’t spend the night

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Darkest of Dark

Darkest of Dark, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

Tonight apt to be the darkest of dark
She lies quietly in her bed of straw
On this night she shall not be a skylark
A struggle for every breath she does draw

Being friends since do not remember when
Moving my hand slowly across her head
Never to have such a friendship again
For this bleak darkness is my watershed

Stroking downward on her velvetiness
How her blackness shines in this shallow light
Memory makes me smile in this darkness
Fear never again shall we say good night

Only my lonely heartbeat do I hear
Tears for her shall fall for many a year


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Love is a Candle

Love is a Candle, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

I rub my eyes and shake my heavy head.
No dim shadows on these walls do I see,
No single sound made to enter my ear.
I’m motionless uncovered in my bed.

Many thoughts I chase around in my mind,
As dog after a hare for its dinner.
Round and around only to catch my tail,
For my question no answer did I find.

Today follows yesterday I am sure,
But future happenings remain unknown.
Life is a puzzle we build piece by piece.
As in my yesterday I shall endure.

For as did yesterday the sun shall shine,
Even if to be hidden from my view.
But there are other ways to make days bright.
The way I endure is the love in mine.

Love, there’s no easy way to make it last,
As it’s a candle, easy to go out.
A question I struggle with every night,
How to ensure love shall remain steadfast.

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Love Yields Not to Time

Love Yields Not to Time

The night had long settled in,
Signaling a time for rest.
Not to be said of the River Seine,
Like time, never takes a holiday

Two lovers approached Pont Neuf
Arm in arm slow was their pace.
Trading whiffs of the other’s red rose,
Deciding the sweeter of the two.

Each kissed the other’s sweet rose,
Into the river they’re tossed.
They rush to the bridge’s other side,
Waiting for the roses to appear.

Water flows but no roses appear,
Love has no understanding of time!

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In the Gentle Rain

In the Gentle Rain, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

Clouds of many shades of grey moving in,
Will not dampen my love, of you I sing.
Any moment the warm rain shall begin,
Each rain drop a kiss from you it will bring.

If you were here, we’d surely want to dance,
Oh how we did, on our very first date.
Remember that day, start of our romance,
When our lips met, my heart you did elate.

Feeling the rain, your kisses coming down,
Though soaking wet, them, I shall not deflect.
With simple joy, tossed myself to the ground.
If you were here, that would be better yet.

To roll with my love, in the gentle rain,
Caring not, if others think we’re insane.


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Spring is Truly Here

Spring is Truly Here, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

The brave crocus grow
Through the winter’s freezing snow
Then there is silence
There’ll be no challenge so bold
To test March winds’ piercing cold

Then on a warm morn
In April as if popcorn
They are everywhere
Daffodils cover the hills
Help creating countless thrills

Need not scarves and hats
Gone now are the fireside chats
Fly free your cocoon
Come take my extended hand
To this yellow land so grand

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Not to hear brings countless tears

Soundless, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

Oh Beethoven how I wish you were here
To help assist me through this awful time
Tell about when you could no longer hear
Notes you manipulated so sublime

Colorful birds in the tree I can see
Is mating season music fills the air
And I hear not a single sound they speak
Limited to sit quietly and stare

Excited children with all their chatter
Their jaws up and down while I wear a frown
I would love to hear their joyful laughter
But very long ago all sound did drown

Life has turned into a silent movie
Oh to hear music again is my plea

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Feeling the Pain of Eternal Desire

Eternal Desire, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

When seeing you I’m looking at a priceless gem
One which is more precious than the countless others
You are priceless for there is not another you
No other smiles, walks or talks the way as you do
It is for this reason I desire you so much
You’re the red flower in a field of white tulips

This fervent desire shall never be diminished
No matter the distance that you place between us
Willingly I bear the pain from your resistance
Although I flounder in this cold ocean of hope
Life without passion for you there can be no joy
As all human acts are resulting from desire

Thoughts for this poem was triggered by the following quotes:

Bertrand Russell

     All human activity is prompted by desire. There is a wholly fallacious theory advanced by some earnest moralists to the effect that it is possible to resist desire in the interests of duty and moral principle. I say this is fallacious, not because no man ever acts from a sense of duty, but because duty has no hold on him unless he desires to be dutiful. If you wish to know what men will do, you must know not only, or principally, their material circumstances, but rather the whole system of their desires with their relative strengths.


Understanding Desire by Patricia Stacey

…..It’s joy, it’s misery, it’s an ache that you miss when it’s gone—what is it about desire that has such a hold on us?

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Sweet Taste of the Medlar

Jan Jansz van de Velde, Quinces and Medlars on a Table Ledge (circa 1650)

Sweet Taste of the Medlar, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

Watching the field come alive for it’s spring
In the warmth of the sun I pass the tree
A very special tree with birds who sing
Soft love songs made especially for me

The white blossoms now gone I see its fruit
Of its bounty there’s one who halts my eye
With a round dimple face that’s more than cute
For her there’s a desire I can’t deny

Throughout the long summer I watch her grow
An anxious youth waiting for her to blet
The wait too long for the coming of snow
It is then when her growth will be complete

Thrilled to see the white dusting on the ground
This is the signal I’ve long waited for
In repeated joyous song do expound
To a taste not experienced before


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Listening to Love Songs

Love Songs, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

Do the nearby song birds sing of love’s plea?
So sweet their sound, a perfect melody,
A choir reverberating in the trees,
Any heart that hears it’s surely to please.

To be able to fly as does the dove,
Taking to the trees to sing of my love.
A love as bright as this warm summer day,
In your soft clutches forever to stay.

My love thoughts for you, my day they do fill.
Thoughts of our next meeting gives me a thrill.
To cast my eyes upon your gentle smile.
My love for you there’ll be no denial.

Under the trees to them we shall listen,
To their sweet love songs which make hearts glisten.


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Nectar draws all types of creaturres

Nectar, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

The warmth of the sun
Carried by the subtle breeze
Comforting it is
For soon my lover will come
Filling my heart with much joy

With eyes tightly closed
I know she is very near
For it is her scent
Much sweeter than petrichor
My heart rate is now doubled

With a booming smile
Waiting for her warm greeting
She’s surely to give
To my ever hungry lips
As if they’d never been touched

Oh that magic touch
Her lips giving me a rush
A rushing rumbling
Volcano set to explode
Tasting nectar from the gods

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Blue Dancers by Edgar Degas

Dancers, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

What is of dancers for me to adore?
Only one with meaning is the ballet.
Did Terpsichore tamper my heart’s core,
For the love of ballet shall never stray.

On a staged wooded land as nymphs they move,
Or the whisk of a baton, butterflies.
Move with perfection or suffer reprove.
While they’re dancing, I don’t dare shut my eyes.

Look about at them, all are so petite,
At waist, makes for such an easy embrace.
Each angelic face so tender and sweet,
Touching many hearts with their moving grace.

The world of dance may just be make believe,
But lightens the heart with no time to grieve.

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A Modicum of Hope

Worthington Whittredge, On the Cache la Poudre River, Colorado (1876)

Modicum, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

Jaunted to the river’s edge this morning.
Destination was a place for yearning.
All problems were deterred from entering.
Be at peace without any conjuring.

Birds and water, music they do provide,
To clear my mind of any confusion.
Cloistered here alone my thoughts need not hide,
Offer contrition, seek absolution.

Take deep breaths and fill each lung with the air,
Clear so clean nostrils feel the peppermint.
Cast my eyes everywhere no spot to spare.
What I see and understand but a hint.

I need for greater power to unfold,
The mysteries so that I may behold.

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Stone of Fear

Stone of Fear, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

She stands before me,
Stoic as possibly be.
All locked up inside,
Like Vibia Sabina,
Or the lost ballerina.

Drawn to this unknown,
All agog of her in stone.
Where to find a clue,
Of her true purpose or use.
Drawn to her to be my muse!

Not of ivory!
Galatea is not she!
But of her beauty,
Who can surpass, there is none.
Without word my heart she’s won.

Frozen by a curse,
A fate I wish to reverse.
Be it for my gain!
Again she’ll be soft and warm,
Now quelled her internal storm.

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Obession a major human flaw

Obsession, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

I have gravely sinned.
A touch of the sultry wind.
I’m without reason.
My senses are all awry.
This lust I cannot deny.
Her soft scent leads the attack.
She isn’t yet in view,
As if she’s “The Devil’s Breath.”
There will be no angel’s death.
She’s on a mission.
Before me takes position,
Displaying her smile.
I stand frozen like Lot’s wife,
Salt for the rest of my life?
Unlike poor Daphne,
I shan’t be a static tree.
My branches shall clutch,
Whom I wantonly desire.
Ravishing her as I’m fire.
What’s there to explain,
Behavior labeled insane?
Work of the Devil,
Or a more natural cause?
Controlled by my human flaws!

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The Activity of Love

Ilya Repin, Leo Tolstoy in His Study (1891)

This basis for the poem below:

The activity of love offers such difficulties that its manifestations become not only painful, but often impossible………..Leo Tolstoy

The Activity of Love, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

She will forever be a part of me,
Ensconced permanently within my mind.
Guarded are thoughts never able to flee,
Nor to the outside world able to find.

Though my many thoughts of her cause much pain.
There’s no cure to gain by human reason,
Or warrant to declare I am insane,
For not willing these vivid thoughts to shun.

I’m eternally doomed for loving her.
For unyielding feelings must pay the price.
In the day it is she whom I’m after.
At night my dreams are the devil’s device

Like Sisyphus I’m treated the same way.
No rock. In thoughts of her I dwell each day.

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Oh the Lowly Cowards

Oh the Lowly Cowards, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

Oh the lowly cowards, they hide from view
Twisting arms and scratching with finger nails
Getting their wishes from a very few
Their pleasure is telling lies, spreading tales

The masses turn their heads the other way
With no desire to be disturbed at play
While their eye be closed their rights will decay
Soon it will be too late to have their say

Those who command shall be guided by rules
And their senses be most powerful tools
They should not fear potential ridicules
If they shall bend then they become the fools

If the rules be read in varying way
All that shall remain is for us to pray

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Descending into Hell Because of Passion

Descending into Hell, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

Imperative our bodies intermesh
Wanton love of thee cannot be curtailed
Satiation comes with feeling thy flesh
But thee gone so I’ve abysmally failed

Feverishly fighting for feeling free
No soporific can put me at ease
While captivated by the thoughts of thee
For these sins devoid of any mercies

Willing following thee into the ground
Searching for thy beauty in Paradise
For a time the Inferno I am bound
Forced to offer many a sacrifice

In the fires seeking opportunity
To quickly move upward to where thou are
Yet patient, as I have eternity
Although our distances are very far

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Lost in the Wilderness

Lost in the Wilderness, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

My hardened heart is now devoid of joy.
My passion has gone with the summer wind.
My search for pleasure never to deploy.
My anger is my all for I have sinned.

You gave me a gift of heaven’s bounty.
You had asked ever so little from me.
You are right to display so much anger.
You only asked stay away from the tree.

We must now find a way to make amend.
We are meant together forever be.
We will a path make for me to ascend.
We shall share love bigger than any sea.

I must promise Your holy grace to keep,
For with its loss forever I will weep.

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Portrait of Henriette Girshman

Henrietta, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

A piercing look is so tantalizing,
Inviting me her body to explore,
To experience what I haven’t before.
An arousal I have been long wishing!

Such excitement for her as I’m painting,
As my pounding heart beat begins to roar.
This stress unable to take anymore.
How much time will I be weakly waiting?

Will I always feel her breath behind me?
Standing as if she is a prison guard,
Watching over the king’s priceless treasure.

Not able to let passions to be free,
To have what is before me I am barred.
Today there’ll be no reaping of pleasure!

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Impatiently Waiting

Berthe Morisot, Reading (1873)

Impatiently Waiting, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

For the magical touch given by you,
Attempting to divert my mind I read.
Love poems, which was not good choice to do,
Heart is so excited, my love do speed.

The summer dance in the past I recall,
Eager nervous for our first rendezvous.
We laughed so loud when you using my shawl,
Twirled me a round and pulled me close to you.

My heart racing fast not due to the dance.
Music played on yet we standing embraced,
Abruptly realized this was romance.
Quickly toward each other our lips raced.

You need not hurry any more my dear,
As I’ve memories of you bring me cheer.

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Love of the Scryer

Love of the Scryer, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

Mystical woman fully dressed in red
Now famed to be the best ever scryer
Thou must read what’s inside this aching head
Is it close to death or filled with desire

Holding object close do thee see thy face
With glowing expression that comes with love
Thou must see thee and me in close embrace
There should be a clear vision from above

If the spirits tell thou not, look at me
Placing thy hand upon this heavy heart
Beating wildly showing feelings for thee
So eager to thee my love to impart

Without a doubt thy heart thou can believe
Long as I live my love thou shall receive

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Desire by Edvard Munch

Desire, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

Your sweet velvet kiss is an opioid,
That dulls my ability to reason.
Every vision not of you is now void,
My heart is sealed in your private prison.

Your warming tender touch upon my skin,
Delivers the sting of a scorpion.
My heart now in a delusional spin,
Yielding to your every heated motion.

What can I do but concede to desire,
For I am helpless to all your power.
That has put my wanton body on fire,
Consuming all the yearning I harbor.

Was I just living a feverish dream
For I am drained feeling utterly weak
Or some form of a diabolic scheme
Lying here helpless unable to speak

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The Cottage, painted by Vincent van Gogh

The Cottage, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

Peeking in a grimy window the sun
Wonders what kind of person lies within,
A room that looks as if its day is done,
Ev’n before its tenant is to begin.

The reptile like old man sorts out the hay,
Upon his head and wonders what face will
I be forced to wear? None I dare to say!
Friday! In my chair I sit ever still.

Blue dress and cap rotund lady with head
In cupboard checks each of its few items,
And says, you’re all set, more than enough bread,
On Sunday remember to sing some hymns.

He sat there hearing only his heart beat,
Pulses later all was still in the seat.

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I’ll Try Not to Cry

I’ll Try Not to Cry, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

I’ll try not to cry,
As my whole world rushes by.
There is not a brake,
Letting me to slow it down.
I wear a permanent frown.

I’ll try not to cry
There’s no cure for me to buy
To banish this fog
Which brings me much confusion
Causing my mind barren

I’ll try not to cry,
For all is a darkened sky.
There is no blue hue,
No bright floating cotton clouds,
No smiling attentive crowds.

I’ll try not to cry,
If this very day I die.
As what could be worse,
Than this ever present pain.
Death removes this horrid chain.

I’ll try not to cry,
The fear I cannot deny.
Wanting by my side,
The one who captured my heart,
To hold hands as I depart.

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Guitar Player painted by Johannes Vermeer

Guitar Player, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

Remembering days not so long ago
You easily plucked the strings of my heart
A rational mind said better go slow
But I fell for you at the very start

In the beginning was a dream come true
We sang, we danced, an exciting romance
Day and night, my thoughts were of only you
But your actions soon broke that loving trance

At first was consumed with singing the blues
Was restless with many a sleepless night
Trying to understand your hurting ruse
But I’m alright with you out of my sight

Needed to thank you for making me strong
To you I dedicate my next love song

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Explosive Love

Explosive Love, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

Lips upon my neck
No way to keep her in check
Soon I will be gone
My energy will be spent
Not a moment to repent

She has a passion
Which I’ll never seek to shun
For me she’s the one
I wish to have always close
As everyday our love grows

She drives me insane
A love I cannot explain
One I can’t control
Feelings that I have inside
My passion now busted wide

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A Street Corner in Prague

Jakub Schikaneder, A Street Corner in Prague (1924)

A Street Corner in Prague, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

What is it of the fire behind the door?
This building for centuries stood its ground,
Daring not a passersby to explore,
Forcing everyone to walking around.
About this old building stories they tell,
Making wary others shake in wonder,
When told inside is the stairs down to hell.
Going to close their souls it will plunder.
Walkers of the street bow in reverence,
Daring not to look into its dark eyes,
Causing them to do their dire penitence.
Not willing to become the devil’s prize.
There once was a brave one who went inside,
Not to be seen again guessing he died.

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Swooning Because of You

Swooning Because of You, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

Those steaming magical moments with you
Daring was I for one who was so shy
Such a gentleman to help tie your shoe
Just a scheme to feel your soft inner thigh

But of course by seeing your grin I knew
You had a touch of devil in your eye
Eager was I to see the full menu
Ending with special requests you’ll comply

Like a Boy Scout rubbing two wooden sticks
Made a roaring fire to last through the night
Choosing ala carte provides many picks
There was tasty delight in every bite

With these torrid thoughts I begin to swoon
Remembering yesterday afternoon

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The Desert Flower

The Desert Flower, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

The desert flower
Waits for the needed water
Which may never come
An oasis in the sand
Wish to offer her a hand

Her pain is not shown
Why must she be all alone
With no one to care
Battered by the endless wind
Punished as if she has sinned

Signs of being flayed
Moved closer to give her shade
Want to give relief
It is quite hard to explain
But I understand her pain

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The debacle of love

Theodore Robinson – La débâcle (1892)

The Debacle, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

A bridge so small yet we are worlds apart
What the differences be, I know not
Was love for me when I gave you my heart
For you were gentle to me at the start

Surrendering quickly, am I the fool
To resist I’d no knowledge of a tool
Or in the game of love of any rule
Which required one be vicious and cruel

I am more than willing to bear the scar
For it is true love just the way you are
You shall ever be my celestial star
Will not make a difference near or far

There is no happiness in how I feel
Want to assure you, my love was real

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Passion in the Stars

Passion in the Stars, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

My breath stolen by what is before me
Twirling like a prima ballerina
So every part of her I’m able see
Sending my heart to the upper strata

With a devilish smile moving ever
So close. To her eager embrace I’m drawn
With wild loose passion. Oh how I want her
Smothering in her dress of blue chiffon

My heart quickens with head between her breasts
Held helpless by the flowers of the field
In her spell my every thought she arrests
This fiery desire cannot be concealed

Her apple she places upon my lips
While I feel heated passion from her hips

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Alone! The challenge after losing a love one

Emilio Longoni, Sola! (Alone!) (1900)

Alone!, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

All alone overcome with nothingness
With paralysis of heart and body
For God did not answer her begging plea
Feeling all days forward to be worthless
Gone is a love she thought to be endless
His warmth she would feel for eternity
He was all she needed to be happy
His ensuring embrace was her fortress
Can there be more than just her memories
A comforting from the morning bird’s song
Finding joy as the little children play
Like him gone will be the scent of lilies
While she remains there’s a need to be strong
To live every day as it comes her way


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Lunch at the Restaurant Fournaise

Pierre-Auguste Renoir, Lunch at the Restaurant Fournaise (1879)

Feeling in my stomach gives me a hunch.
Sun’s position tells me it’s time for lunch.
Ever so eager for something to munch,
But more important have friends in a bunch.

We gather together to tell tall tales,
Some so farfetched they are bigger than whales.
Not in a hurry so we eat like snails,
With much chagrin the time really sails.

We joke but much comes from within the heart,
None to the others attempt to outsmart.
Regrettably we all must soon depart,
All rushing one more story to impart.

It is time each to have a final say,
For planning lunch for next earliest day.

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The Pink Dancers, Before the Ballet

Edgar Degas, Les danseuses roses, Avant le ballet (1884)

Dancers in Pink

They have clipped our wings, we will soar no more.
Magic that feeds us now deathly silent,
Until maestro’s baton starts the next score.
Oh quickly, we have energy not spent.

The rustling of the audience ceases,
We all hear tout suit and a cane tapping.
Orchestra prepares to play its pieces,
All dashing for proper positioning.

Plie, releve, saulte, each with grace of a dove.
The Maestro called for the strings, time to spin.
Ah, Pirouette always done with much love.
Being a dancer is love for certain.

Our hearts start racing when we touch the stage,
To be a ballerina at any age.

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Thankful Tears

Thankful Tears, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

White blanket as far as the eye can see
Coming in the darkness as the soil slept
At day light displaying its soft beauty
But by this day’s end the snow will have wept

Its many tears will sink into the soil
Relieving some of soil’s tired parchedness
It must be ready for spring’s human toil
Plying their planting skills in its softness

Winter is young they will watch for more white
To see it piled high coming to their knees
With no preference be it day or night
Their eyes will watch ready to make their pleas

Soon the snow of winter turns to spring’s rain
Soil drinks its sweet tears and does not complain

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Ophelia from Shakespeare’s Hamlet

Ophelia’s Bath, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

The lavender scented candles flicker
Creating an almost mystical glow
The water enters as a waterfall
Frothing the milk which sits waiting below
Today her bath shall be like no other
In its warmth she seeks eternal comfort
To wash away her torturing weakness
Desiring baptism for her weighting sins
Covering herself with dried rose petals
To be washed away as will be her sins
Below the water she enters a dream
As slowly each petal rises to the top

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Cafe Couple with Communication Problems

Ron Hicks, Cafe Couple (not dated)

Café Couple, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

There was a young vixen some time ago
Created such a stir within my heart
Without effort quadrupled my blood flow
Causing strain and awful pain from the start

Made repeated attempts to have her near
To breathe the scent of lavish lavender
Time after time thought my intentions clear
To the point of being a poor beggar

Dangerously with finger swirled her hair
Was this a sign we would be moving on
Not a blink while at her beauty I stare
She is a magnet to which I am drawn

My mouth was open awaiting her tongue
Any desires of passion are far-flung

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You Intoxicate Me

John William Alexander, Repose (1895)

You Intoxicate Me, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

Let me drink the sweetness of your beauty
Let me breathe fully the air you exhale
Let me feel the heat of your excitement
Let my tongue collect the salt on your skin

You are a volcano that quakes my earth
You are the nightmare that keeps me awake
You are the sun so bright must close my eyes
You are the moon that makes the waves of love

Great fear captures me when you are not near
Held by disquiet unable to breathe
As if downing in an ocean of tears
Twisting and turning alone in my bed

May there never again be such a night
Where I’m not held by your romantic scent
As your soft silken hair falls upon mine
And your dark deep eyes intoxicate me

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The Beauty of this Earth

Joshua Shaw, Seven Hills: An American Landscape (1818)

The Beauty of this Earth, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

The velvety coolness of tall green grass
Offers some relief from a red hot sun
Which slithers slowly into the crevasse
The transfer from day to night nearly done

In amber stillness I wait for the moon
Full it will be, shinning like polished brass
Looking like a yellow birthday balloon
Will make the blue water appear like glass

Before its arrival time will stand still
While dots of popcorn fill the blackened sky
Frozen by a feeling that’s surreal
I am weightless in the place where I lie

Astounding is the beauty of this earth
In this stillness I’ve feelings of rebirth

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My Soul


My Soul, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

At moment of birth was given a soul
to be mine, the rest of eternity,
longer than my body shall ever be,
with soul returning to heaven my goal.
From my mouth this deep desire I extol,
but I have failed caused by human frailty.
Falling to pleasures that made me guilty:
ever yielding to my desires’ control.

I am weak from a human perspective!
Shall my soul be punished for weakened deeds?
If be true: body and soul are as one
together for a long as I may live
then soul now complicit to human needs
How can a place in heaven now be won?

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The Joys of the Past

The Joys of the Past, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

The joys of the past,
I reckoned they’d always last.
Loving memories!
Beginning vividly strong,
Thinking how could I be wrong.

Thoughts like grains of sand,
Passing slowly through the hand.
Lost without intent!
Falling not making a sound,
Never again to be found.

At the airplane’s gate,
For no cause I hesitate.
If frozen in time!
The first thought that comes to mind,
What it is I’ve left behind.

All logic has ceased,
Confused is to say the least.
No understanding!
Just my imagination,
Of desired expectation.

Plane is in the sky,
With regret it is goodbye.
Without seeing you!
Thought friendship not to end,
Am I wrong my dearest friend?

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Girl with Azalea

Vojtěch Hynai, Girl with Azalea (1915)

Girl with Azalea, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

Your new found love should be put in a pot.
Tend to its every need right from the start.
It is fragile, best to forget it not.
Let that pot be made of your very heart.

Love between the two be equally true,
Then it shall in no time fully blossom,
The graces of love to both will accrue.
Attend with great care shall never succumb.

Through the years there will be many a tear,
Will be real love that helps conquer fear,
And to make the sunny days reappear,
With the desire to remain ever near.

For heart to grow love is its basic food,
That tingle of long past was its prelude.

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Vine and Tree

Vine and Tree, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

Tree stood majestic in the open field,
Offering respite from the summer sun,
On its many branches birds it did shield,
For climbing children provided much fun.

Early spring a vine sprouted from the ground,
Being friendly giving hugs to the tree.
Growing fast, going around and around,
Soon the tree realized was no longer free.

Now the vine stole the tree’s much needed light,
Vine’s many leaves were now the greatest height.
Like a serpent choking with all its might,
Causing within the tree a deadly freight.

Spring is now here the tree did not awake.
Tolerating the vine was its mistake.

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Moon Night

Ivan Aivazovsky, Moon Night (1885)

Moon Night, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

The wind like a sweeping broom
Wish, swish, rattling every dish
Providing sounds of looming doom
Clouds so fearful begin to weep
What object to overcome such gloom?
Every given answer is “Not I.”
Even the voices from the tomb
Yield for fear to be exhumed
Through the day all stayed at bay
Allowing the wind to have its way
Finally comes the end of day
Now above their many heads
They take notice of the full moon
Gleaming bright with a silly grin
Taking control of what’s below
Giving an eye to the nasty wind
Which falls softly as a lamb
All is quiet in this night
It is now time under the covers
That all heads shall be out of sight

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The Chain I Carry

The Chain I Carry, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

Around this neck I wear an iron chain.
Of its number of links is still unknown.
It exists only to make me insane,
For a love that will never be my own.

From its crushing weight I often descend,
Prostrated upon the dark frozen ground.
Tormented by what it is I offend.
There will be no tears, nor a single sound.

In my mind she shall be eternally,
As if her vision has been carved in stone.
From this love I shall never to be free.
Without her my choice is to be alone.

Another link for every thought of her.
No matter the weight I shall not deter.

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Among the Waves

Ivan Aivazovsky, Among waves (1898)

Among the Waves, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

Sitting idly with the sea,
Listening to the smooth rhythm,
Of the rolling white capped waves,
Making sounds like a heartbeat,
As each settles at the shore.
The sea is everlasting.
Boundless energy it holds.
There are times when it’s calming,
And there are times when it scolds.
Looking far as I can see,
Thinking of its mightiness,
Devouring ships at its will,
Or so still letting all pass
With the least of its effort,
It could swallow tiny me,
Sent to the darkness below.
To the sea I shall listen,
For it’s my loving Father.

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Eager to be With Her

Eager to be With Her, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

Every time that I
Hear “I love you,” there’s a sigh
My heart skips a beat
Each and every time we kiss
My life is never amiss

The sound of her voice
Reason for me to rejoice
That she’s very close
I’m ready to be consumed
My rocket will have had zoomed

On being with her
It’s not I who’s the captor
My love compels me
I’m a ring on her finger
Not a moment to linger

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In the Woods

Anders Zorn, In the Woods (1893)

In the Woods, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

We’re in our private Garden of Eden
Our most favorite place to be alone
Of others this woods is wholly barren
It’s in this magic place our love has grown

There is a soft sweetness that fills the air
While the breeze sings moving among the trees
We escape into our grass laden lair
Our naked bodies to do as they please

The electrifying touch she offers
With her unblemished flesh on top of mine
All the passion that I possess is hers
As we embrace like branches of a vine

Exchanging wild sensations with our lips
Responding excitedly with our grips

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Need to Change

Need to Change, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

Lying in the shadow of your body
Thinking of the countless deeds you have done
Where I’ve been sole beneficiary
Regrettably your efforts go unsung

Total ignorance on my part I fear
If my actions caused sorrow on your part
Shedding the heavy invisible tear
And carrying alone your heavy heart

There needs to be many more like today
Where your time is consumed in idleness
Many less hours at work and more of play
Your time now be filled with more happiness

Just my loving you cannot be enough
There is need to change though it will be tough

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Final Act of Love

Final Act of Love, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

The water is darker than a squid’s ink.
Looking to its cold bottom was useless.
Jumping in did not know how far I’d sink,
Drifting down it felt to be bottomless.

Crushing aching pain brought me here today.
An eternal love wasn’t ever to be,
From the moment your heart began to stray.
For me there could be but one destiny.

The water takes me to my resting place,
Going willingly without any fear.
My final vision will be of your face,
Wondering if your eye will shed a tear.

In the end giving you all that I could.
My love for you was never understood.

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Fishermen on Skagens Beach

Peder Severin Kroye, Fishermen on Skagens Beach (1884)

Fishermen on Skagens Beach, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

The lighthouse guided them back to the beach
With their nets holding a bountiful catch
All avoiding but necessary speech
Knowing they’re to meet their physical match

Out of the beached vessel on to the shore
Flexing sandpaper hands they grab the lines
Tugging and grunting till couldn’t anymore
Feeling muscular pain run down their spines

Into baskets were tossed the slippy fish
To market all being carted away
But for a moment of rest is their wish
Thanking God it’s the end of a work day

Focused on aiding their muscles to mend
Knowing this tiring work will never end

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Dreams Unwanted

Dreams Unwanted, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

Begging of you don’t come into my dream
As pleasurable and daunting it be
Dreams are all lifeless and not what they seem
When my eyes open you rapidly flee

In my wanting dream you have no softness
Nor can I breathe the sweetness of your scent
While dreaming air is all I can caress
There is nothing for which I must repent

Come to me passionately while awake
Let me feel you to know this is real
No longer a dream the love that we make
Amazing how real love can make you feel

Awakened in the night there is no scare
In the dark there is brightness everywhere
For I am no longer caressing air
Knowing that for my earnest love you care

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Desire Path

Heimkehr, Robert Haug (1893)

Desire Path

The field now matured, with bright golden wheat.
All but a narrow path, of shoulders width,
Made by two lovers, to a glade of birch.

Each day when the sun is no longer high,
She now starts from the east, he from the west,
Would come and these two vines would intertwine.

Both are filled with tempestuous desire,
A hunger their hearts yet to satiate,
There is no want, the roaring fire to squelch.

An island of refuge from any want.
Here they feel so unadulterated,
Ready to fulfill the other’s wishes.

In their bed of myrtle they contemplate,
The test of their love when the ground is white,
Are their feelings but a mere summer love?

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Clay, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

I’m on barren ground
Walking, not making a sound
The path is not straight
Where it leads me I don’t know
My speed shall be very slow

Eyes toward the sky
Deep thoughts of wondering why
The darkness above
An omen of what’s to come
My life’s tale ad nauseam

Yet I’ll carry on
If heavily rained upon
As there’s no reason
I should be eager to stay
For I am but simple clay

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Bridge to Happiness

New England Scenery, Thomas Cole (1839)

Bridge to Happiness, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

Walking within a sea of solid green
The whispering winds calling me forward
Where the picture before me is serene
Yet feeling that I’m solidly anchored

Suddenly nails are lifted from my feet
There’s a sense of gentle warmth in my hand
A guiding spirit has made me complete
My heart able to follow its command

Before me the path is narrow but straight
Leading to a glowing transparent bridge
Not hampered by any obstructive gate
My constant doubt now replaced with courage

Being over the bridge of happiness
I’m in a place where there is no darkness

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Born to Run

Born to Run, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

There is eagerness in this spindly colt
Thinking of the excitement at the downs
At the sound of a bell ready to bolt
A mere seven weeks old dreaming of crowns

A sure winner, look how he holds his head
Each ear standing up like a mountain peak
Listening to every word that is said
Every shrilling neigh says he is not meek

Look how he runs hugging the inner rail
Attempting boldly to pass his own nose
Traveling so fast his tail is a sail
Another race that is not even close

The day is now over I bed him down
As I leave making room for his first crown

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Before There Was You

Winslow Homer, Boy Fishing (1892)

Before there was You, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

I was a fisherman, trolling each night.
Casting my fine line wherever I may,
Sometimes a nibble and sometimes a bite.
There where nights when I felt an angry gray.

Rain or shine I continued in the game.
Wondered if I needed to change approach,
All too often the results were the same.
There were thoughts of hiring a special coach.

Then came that evening with its change of fate,
I was blindsided by a beauty sight.
Roles reversed, I took the sweet tasty bait.
O my heart danced in great delight that night.

Now gathering dust is my rod and reel,
For I had found a love that is real.

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A Picture of Your Soul

A Picture of Your Soul, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

Have you ever viewed the life of your soul?
It is visible any night you choose,
By going to a nearby grassy knoll,
Decumbent yourself and brace for enthuse.
What you say, nothing more than a mere scam.
Anger not for it is a digital,
Presentation form of a scattergram.
Becalm your mind, do not be critical.
Steady, stretching your eyes upon the sky,
Capture the total events of your soul.
With what now is seen you will soon descry,
The blacks and the brights comprising the whole.
The blacks are the easiest to explain,
As they are events assigned no import.
Brights take judicious evaluation,
Beginning with the most glowing of sort.
To brights attach your memories until
A lack of brights causes consternation.
Lucky are you to be at a standstill
Needful to seek a new constellation.
Those of us who cannot assign all brights,
It takes more visits to this grassy knoll.
Take a friend for some support on those nights,
As these nights may just be brights in your soul.

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To Be Free

To Be Free, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

Without warning came a sinister scream
The kettle is filled with violent rage
Out of control spewing out scalding steam
More savage than a lion in its cage
Is injustice it’s trying to redeem
With its unruly billowing rampage

Like the caged lion it is the water
That has the fervent desire to be free
No external force its form to alter
No want to be used for a cup of tea
But there would be joy in being bigger
To be free as the water of the sea

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Walter Ernest Webster, Rhapsody (c.1930)

Rhapsody, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

From the near piano the strokes of keys
Are footsteps to days distantly gone by
Each goes deeper into my memories
To resist the intrusion I don’t try

The song brings on a soft melancholy
A smile but yet there is a hurt inside
Those thoughts always to be a part of me
Not erased no matter how hard I tried

To soon did our love reach a crescendo
Parting ways to destinations unknown
In our eager youth little did we know
Ageing we took on a different tone

Thinking deeply how my life would have been
The song has stopped with me wearing a grin

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The Wish

The Wish, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

The wind is silent and the sun is bright
There is happiness in your company
Looking out over the beautiful sight
Of swaying palm trees and the dancing sea

What’s the magic that brings us together
As there was no personal interview
Nor an arrow causing instant ardor
Or an active plan for me to pursue

But freely admit a feeling so strange
When you enter to the range of my eyes
Or mention of your name causes a change
A thought of you causes natural highs

If it is by love I have been captured
I fear to push you to the next level
Only to be told that love is absurd
Shoveled off rapidly to the devil

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At the Seashore

William Henry Margetson, The Seashore (1900)

At the Seashore, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

The spirit of the moment grabs my soul
For the quiet wind does not sing a song
While the still water wishes to console
And the silky sand is minus its throng

Looking out in search of the water’s end
Its stillness awaiting for me to speak
Eager as the ear of a dearest friend
Offering needed comfort that I seek

To its vastness confession I offer
Of my many wrongs I’m wishing to right
Of someone’s warmth requesting to enter
Ridding the fright suffered alone each night.

There’s much comfort to be had at the beach
In solitude to the water to talk.
But greater joy is a hand I can reach
To grasp while along the seashore we walk

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Waiting for Spring


Waiting for Spring, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

Just the wind and me
Mesmerized by the cold sea
Winter’s lion roars
Across my defenseless skin
Here’s where my day shall begin

It’s the month of March
Wondering where is my starch
Must I yield to age
And less mental potency
Accepting my life blandly

Nay, I wait for spring
And the sweetness it shall bring
Birds’ songs fill the air
Captured by honeysuckle
Its embrace there is no lull

Lilacs oh so sweet
So tall that the sky they meet
Dancing in the wind
Send their scent over a mile
Bring on me a tender smile

The small whippoorwill
Each night on the windowsill
Will lull me to sleep
To dream of another day
Wishing spring to always stay

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A Moment With You


A Moment With You, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

These aging eyes of mine now tire too soon
While studying the beauty before me
All worldly things now appear to be seen
As would the brightest roundest yellow moon
If I peer through the summer’s leaf-filled tree

It’s when both my eyes are completely closed
That your beauty becomes vividly clear
Looking and hearing countless memories
Gathered through the years now safely enclosed
In my heart, where they will always be near

The future is not something that I seek
Now when your loving lips and mine do meet
Just hold you so the present can’t escape
Feeling the warmness of your silken cheek
Your closeness makes my yearning heart replete

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A Feeling Within


A Feeling Within, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

Freshly mown hay fills this midsummer night.
With jar in hand children chase the firefly.
While moths of every sort seek my flashlight.
On this night life I try to simplify.

Lying on timothy, brome and clover.
Thoughts of before the rain, what must be done?
This night the moon couldn’t be any bolder,
All will be raked before the morning sun.

The air very dry, there shall be no dew.
Making perfect time for the sweet windrows.
I shall sit and watch the sparrows pursue
Critters before the coming of the crows.

Sitting two days, time to take it away.
The horse team and I make tidy square bales.
There’s none to waste as each eats two per day.
Hungry they are, weight over a ton at the scales.

Already again grasses start to grow.
Children all laughing, let the chase begin.
Now sunset, time for the celestial show.
Lying back, ear to ear I wear a grin.

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Water, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

Confused for I know not its truest shape
It is big then again it may be small
With but little effort it can escape
May idle, slowly rise, abruptly fall

Not sure if it can claim to have a taste
It can surely be more precious than gold
Therefore a horrific sin it to waste
For it’s difficult in your hand to hold

So refreshing in it fully immersed
May provide relief to inner spirit
A miracle which quenches our deep thirst
Without it our lives we’d have to forfeit

Water as you quietly pass my lips
I relish the feeling of all my sips

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A Windy Day

Sir John Lavery, R.A., R.S.A., R.H.A. 1856-1941 A WINDY DAY (1910)

A Windy Day, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

Just to let you know you are not alone.
Do not get angered as I wish to flirt.
With my power many things will be blown.
Modesty forget as I sweep your skirt.

Your hat will become a cartwheel rolling
Recklessly across the endless soft sand.
Is attention I want while you’re strolling
On this bright morning lost in your dreamland.

Can you hear my song whistling in your ear?
It is my sad song of ever longing.
Able to caress you. To have you near
To absorb the love I know you would bring.

Can you please turn around towards my way?
So my soft breath upon your lips will stay.

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The New Model

The New Model (1898), William Powell Frith

The New Model, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

Silently she stood as if a statue.
My canvas is like winter’s fallen snow
While I am frozen as the earth below.
The paint brush refuses to move on cue.
Most beautiful woman I would argue
One more heavenly one could never know
With a softness of skin that has a glow.
I fear to blink and lose this perfect view.
Signaling by hand she begins to turn
By single degree her movement is slow.
I wait for her to create a shadow
On her curvaceous body which I yearn.
The more I study her the more I burn
To the point feelings not able to stow.
In my eyes desire is starting to show
To save myself the session must adjourn.
As if she were an angel in a dream
Her svelte body slid behind the curtain
Only to reappear as a beacon
Rendering me into a wisp of steam.
With teeth against my tongue so not to scream
Any action I am doomed for certain.
By the devil I’ve been deeply bitten
Evilly poisoned with his hellish scheme.

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“Lady at her Toilette” by Berthe Morisot. 1875.

Stolen, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

You’re a heartless thief
Stealing far beyond belief
Something I held dear
Without it I cannot live
You I’m never to forgive

Forever to mourn
Forever to be forlorn
There’ll be no comfort
For me be it night or day
I was nothing but your prey

Thinking it a toy
To give you malicious joy
Leaving me bereft
How could I be so naive
To many tales you did weave

It is clear, my fate
There’s no need for me to wait
Never to return
Though an effort to cajole
My precious love which you stole

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Intoxication, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

The full moon so bright with its bleached white light
Makes sensuous shadows in the garden
Of the many flowers as they embrace
Dancing slowly to a song I can’t hear.
Their steady movement into the warm air
Sends ruffled ribbons of many flavors
Slowly encircling my lost dreamy head
So willingly I drink of every one.
Spinning is my intoxicated head
Queueing each of the sweet suggestive scents.
Holding the one that reminds me of her
Squeezing my eyes closed if to hold her tight.
If only she were here to share this night
To quench my desert thirst for her sweetness.
Oh this burning feeling I hold inside
Wondering why her scent remains with me.
In the shadows beneath the willow tree
Courage is gathered to open my eyes.
If in a dream wishing there to remain
But the lingering scent provided thoughts.
Between me and the full moon there she stood.
The moon light filtered through her hair of gold
With extended velvet hands she beckons.
In her fragrance I am now enveloped.

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Scheming, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

The opulent banquet was so crowded,
At tables guests were shoulder to shoulder.
Noise level deafening as all chatted,
But not a one spoke with any candor.

Each story being told became longer,
Much longer than that of a monkey’s tale.
Each is here to be a social climber,
But by night’s end many would surely fail.

Why was I here amongst this den of thieves?
Sheltering my eyes from the shiny paste.
Wretched am I, one too who deceives,
Fooling myself that I’m among the chaste.

On the upward ladder not wanting to
Forfeit my place. Committed to the game,
Doing what’s needed to stay in the queue.
In silence, I admit this is a shame.

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Imprisoned Spring

Inprisoned Spring, Arthur Hacker (1911)

Imprisoned Spring, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

Feeling my young blood racing within me
Like a feral horse running to and fro
Being fenced in, but not wanting to be.
Like the big sky is I ought to be free.
To have the flight of a brazen eagle.
Cast away these mental fettering chains
Is a desire that I constantly mull.
But day after day there aren’t any gains.
Could it possibly be that I am wrong?
That I am much safer staying within
Though of my mind and body being strong.
If ever when will my freedom begin?
All that remains is to frequently pray,
When the morrow comes I will fly away.

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Lovers by a Fountain

Lovers by a Fountain, Modesto Faustini (not dated)

Water runs quickly into the fountain
But not as fast as my red rushing blood
That is more scorching than the noon day sun.
To you my hungry heart I have ceded.
You have come for water to quench your thirst.
Yet I seek you to extinguish this fire
By having my love totally immersed
For water hasn’t power over desire.
Let me carry your water to the shade
Of the tree to soon drink of each other.
For I beg that our love not be delayed
As my body would be a disaster.
Please do not treat my feelings as a game.
Weakening am I from this torrid flame.

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The Philtre

The Philtre, Mihály von Zichy (1868)

The Philtre, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

Tonight we shall not be disillusioned.
We shall quickly freeze our intuition.
Every restrained desired shall be beckoned.
There’ll be no feelings of inhibition.

Mighty Dionysus will be our guide.
His magic elixir removes all doubt,
While any fear can bravely be denied,
Eliminates us from our carnal drought.

So let me assist you to get your fill.
Feel its comforting warmth as down it slides?
It’s fuel to provide a real thrill.
Notice desire burning in your insides?

It is you and I in our reverie,
This night we shall not seek a boundary.

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My Desk

Interior with Girl Reading, Peter Vilhelm Ilsted (c. 1910)

My Desk, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

How many have come before her
Wish that she could tell what she knows
Words written upon this altar
Decades of happiness and woes

Always polite is she to me
Though I pound on her in anger
Yelling at her ever briskly
When ideas fail to flower

Listening to my every word
Though the same again and again
And phrases that are quite absurd
Or just chatter ’til don’t know when

Let it be known she is my friend
Bringing comfort until my end

My real desk

As I was searching through images looking for one that says to me “I’d make good poem. There it was, a desk almost like mine. I did of course remove all the clutter before taking this photo.

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The Touch of Your Kiss

The Touch of Your Kiss, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

The touch of your kiss,
A state of heavenly bliss.
Floating on a cloud,
The magic of weightlessness,
In the joy of your caress.

Look into my eyes.
There’s no desire for goodbyes.
Listen to my heart,
As it pounds a special code,
Of a love that you have sowed.

Parting I resist.
The ache of loss shall persist,
‘Til again we touch.
How I struggle when not near,
As my mind remains unclear.

Thrills when together.
Such desire in me you stir:
Volcanic action.
It’s you I want in my sight,
When my eyes close every night.

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The Visitors

The Visitors, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

The snow’s cold whiteness creeps up to my door
While the melancholy sun bids farewell
Mystically crows swarm more than five score
There is an urgent message they must tell

Raising my shovel they will not scatter
With great fear I hold my quivering breath
It’s easy to understand their banter
These darkened creatures sing their song of death

Where summer they’d quietly steal my corn
Autumn barren fields provide easy prey
Not here to repay my gun’s bitter scorn
No they’re just here to say this is my day

Would prefer a single singing angel
Rather than this rowdy crowd of babel

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The Last Message

The Last Message, Fortunino Matania (1916)

The Last Message, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

Embers within my heart no longer glow
Events past with you, mine a clouded view
So difficult for me to picture you
Thought that forever you would be my beau
That through the years together we would grow
The world has changed yet I don’t have a clue
Words to save us pain wish I only knew
It is hard for me to bring such sorrow

Dearest darling it gives me no comfort
Knowing that you are struck with such great pain
Must be brief believe the French word is mort
As for our relationship there’s no strain
Soon my box will be stacked aboard at port
Rest assured darling you didn’t cause this bane

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The Death of Chatterton

The Death of Chatterton, Henry Wallis (c. 1856)

The Death of Chatterton, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

Poor fatherless genius age eleven
Wrote great versus without imperfection
His skill would not pave his way to Heaven
Shortly going in other direction

Verses he wrote penned by long ago monk
Thomas Rowley lived three centuries past
Claimed to have discovered them in a trunk
Willing to sell them if the sum were vast

Not selling his writings turns to despair
Yet wrote feverishly both day and night
Did not have a shilling that he could spare
Now totally consumed by darkened fright

To rid the pain arsenic he did down
Shy of eighteen he lies in the cold ground

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Through My Window

Through My Window, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

The morning sun uncovering the sky
Sending its brightness into my window
One glowing ray sat on my peeking eye
Boldly telling me, “Better not be slow”

This is to be such a marvelous day
Thrusting my bedroom window open wide
Telling the whole world what I have to say
Oh the glorious feeling that’s inside

Quickly I raise my arm waving to God
Thanking Him for the gifts he has given
Over and over it’s He who I laud
For this special day that I am liven

Even if this day shall not go my way
It is to Him whom this evening will pray

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Wind, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

Cannot see thee, but thou art surely here,
As thee can speak to me violently,
Yet not a word of thee enters my ear,
And still thy force guides me decidedly.

Thy power commands trees, songs to whistle
Songs which touch people in varying ways,
Some so fearful they seek their dismissal,
While other so gentle request delays.

Thy power commands water shape to take
Normally flat as glass, jumps at thy call.
The stronger thy call, the larger the wave,
If thy call be soft the wave shall be small.

Wind, with all thy mighty power will thee,
Guide, the only love of my life to me.

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Idleness in the Rain

Idleness in the Rain

The sun has taken a vacation day.
Clouds so dense, they are flattened and shapeless.
Heavy rain, muting colors in my view.
The lonely birch is like a lightning strike,
Before the background of quiet maples.

Listening to countless taps of the rain.
Cannot determine if but random notes,
Or of a message, wishing to invoke.
Listening, I feel a calm enter me,
Freedom of mind, for which I’ve been waiting.

Thoughts, not of yesteryear or the future,
But what is this, this quantity called life.
Like rain drops, of possible randomness,
Or a plan, put in place so long ago.
Of patterns in rain, not understanding.

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To Whom Shall We Listen

To Whom Shall We Listen,

a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

The emotion love in the heart resides
While in the human mind resides its soul
Each so different on how it decides
One against the other seeking control

One or the other attempts to cajole
For humans there will be no choosing sides
If we try certainly it’ll take its toll
Excruciating feelings it provides

Confrontations continues ’til one dies
From the agony there be no parole
Some temporary relief when one cries
As all emotions begin to unroll

Frequently impetuous is the heart
Failing to listen from the very start

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Vision of Beauty

Vision of Beauty, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

The shadow appears,
Upon the frosted glass door.
Then came knocks in pairs.
Over the threshold did pour,
A stunning smile that she wore.

An Apparition!
She very well may have been,
But not imagination.
Her beauty glowed from within,
Making my peering head spin.

Her soft loveliness,
Greater than Helen of Troy.
I must now confess,
Seeing her my greatest joy.
Blushing if a little boy.

Soon she did depart.
Leaving me with aching pain,
For she stole my heart.
With me she could not remain.
Feelings for her won’t e’er wain.

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The Old Man

The Old Man, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

The old man stood there silently affixed
On the shadow disappearing beyond the threshold
The door slowly closed, then came a thunder from the latch
He turned and went to a chair
Thought of what has happened
Looked around the room stopping at
The table that stood next to the chair.
Picks up the glass and takes a sip
Opens the small drawer
Pulls out a small bottle
Pops the cap, stares into the bottle
Tosses the contents to the back of his mouth
Takes another sip, then swallows
Puts his head back and closes his eyes.

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The Proposal

The Proposal, Frédéric Soulacroix (1858 – 1933) not dated

The Proposal, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

You came to me as the heat of the sun
My love grew like the fruit upon the vine
Shall say to you, you be the only one
That you too be forever only mine

Our lives together will be more than fine
The love we share never to come undone
May be rain at times but mostly sunshine
All those tempting distractions both will shun

As we live our love be second to none
Aging love shall be as the finest wine
Softly mellowing yet love of action
No matter the years our love will opine

To you I dedicate all of my life
If you shall now promise to be my wife

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The River Runs Red

Artist unknown

The River Runs Red, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

The city’s skyline looks like poker chips
This is a place of winners and losers
The winners choose not to walk on these streets
Loser to loser the alley they meet

The rustle, the hustle, day almost done
Any civility was left at work
One’s inner frustration must now be heard
Even if someone’s life to end tonight

The great “melting pot” is starting to boil
No longer employed are knife, bat and fist
Time has taken on a new jousting form
Where knight meets knight in the darkness of night

In their fast steel steeds they speed down the street
With lances in hand a victim they seek
Sending swarming bees of lead through the air
Claiming a victim sitting in a chair

A massive current of red runs quickly
Appears if knowing where it is to go
Joining a clotted mass of blood below
Now gathered to the river it will flow


I wrote in poem in 2018, and it sat quietly on my computer. 

Now I think it appropriate for the times we are currently experiencing 

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The Love Letter

Carl Herpfer – The Love Letter 

The Love Letter, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

Dreaming about how things could be with thee,
Knowing this is precious time not well spent,
But next to thee no place I’d rather be,
To hear your tender voice and smell thy scent.

Though we be physically very close,
And yet our thoughts are galaxies apart,
Nary a chance we would ever be beaus,
Not understanding why to let this start.

If dreams be extinguished it is the end,
For without them no life can ev’r exist.
There is no life without lover and friend,
I shall show deference though you resist.

Miracles do happen let’s wait and see,
Thy heart may once change to love only me.

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Thoughts of You

Thoughts of You, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

About to take a voyage in my mind.
You are the only one to come along
To see every moment I think of you.
From rising until the end of my day.
The great joy I get gazing at your face,
The music coming from you tender voice,
The downy softness of your loving kiss,
The calm you bring with you tender embrace.

But my mind is busiest when I dream.
You’re there to taunt me with your vivid love.
Chained to my bed unable to escape,
Flailing ever so wildly from your touch.
A hand so hot it sets my flesh on fire.
Your kiss evokes within lawless desire,
Building pressure I can no longer hold.
I am a live volcano. I explode!

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Hylas and the Nymphs

Hylas and the Nymphs (1896) John William Waterhouse

Hylas and the Nymphs, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

Hylas are thou prepared for what’s in store?
Seeking water holding spear minus fear,
Shall ev’r again return to thy mentor.
He shall seek thee shedding many a tear.

Was Hera’s will that led thee to the shore.
Hypnotic nymph Dryope coaxed thee to come near.
In her snaky mind was more than amour,
With her magic touch thou heart she did sear.

In the green still waters thou did explore.
Soon to swoon, about to reach thy nadir.
Consumed by desire, warning thou ignore.
As soft smile of a nymph is mere veneer.

Under the waterlilies can be found,
Hylas who no longer shall make a sound.

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The Kiss (lovers)

The Kiss (lovers), Gustav Klimt (1908)

The Kiss, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

It is fall, the golden time, when thou shall
Leave my gardens as Persephone will.
Shan’t lock thee with horses in the corral.
Then go. Leave me without love, without thrill.

Wait, delay, the ground remains soft and warm.
Lie with me on the meadow’s new mown hay.
Come close, let me prop thy head with my arm,
So you hear every word of love I say.

These two moist lips are ripe as thy body.
Pressing my body against thine. Hearts are
Racing. From our love will soon embody,
Thy equal of beauty under our star.

Winter will soon come and the fields shall sleep,
While patiently I wait our love to reap.

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The Bower

The Bower, Willard Leroy Metcalf (1907)

The Bower, a Poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

Here in the bower I quietly lay
Focusing on the color of the sky
Just passing away the hours of this day

Its cerulean blue I wonder why
Could it not one of the soft shades of green
Someday with a brush of green I will try

My thinking may be considered obscene
This foolishness is needed respite care
As stress untempered would soon make me mean

Breathing deeply capturing the mild air
Feeling joy of the sun upon my face
A great sense of freedom I am aware

Today there will be no arduous pace
No want to run a competitive race
O the reward of stillness in this place

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Do You Remember

A Box Made for Memories

Do You Remember, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

This small box given on our wedding day,
To store memories of times together,
Just in case our thinking began to stray,
Unable to remember where we were.

The time is now when it’s hard to recall.
This opera ticket is now so frail,
The scrawled penciled date cannot read at all,
This item won’t be of any avail.

Cannot remember this one or this one.
No longer great memories but anguish,
Fearing my precious time is nearly done,
As a tired autumn leaf I shall languish.

Thinking back to many decades ago,
There remains a thought as if yesterday.
Your soft gentle touch would make my love flow,
And your tender kiss my heart you did slay.

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Seated Man at the Table

Seated Man at the Table, 1886, Elin Danielson-Gambogi

Seated Man at the Table, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

Here I squirm in desperate solitude,
Moving an empty coffee cup like a pawn.
Events in my mind I try to occlude,
So bleak is my heart, sorry to be born.

Here at our table our lives were entwined,
Never to part until the end of time.
Imperfect I am, but foolishly blind,
Not obey the way of this heart of mine.

What contrition must be waged to undo,
The egregiously wrong that has been done,
For my saneness cannot take “We are through.”
Save me from this choking cocoon I’ve spun.

Across the table with lips parted I will,
Lean into the dark to find yours still.

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Petals of a Daisy

Petals of a Daisy, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

She spreads her silky shawl on the soft sand
Sitting she stares out at the serene sea
She’s sifting thoughts as sand slides from her hand
Shyly she thinks what her love is to be

A new beau is the focus of her life
Every thought of him provides a warm thrill
Wondering when she will become his wife
Suddenly summer’s wind gives her a chill

In slow motion she reaches to her hair
Taking a daisy, with a test she strains
As white petals fly giving her a scare
Only a single white petal remains

The wind tosses the shawl into the air
There is not a sight of her anywhere

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Romantic Firefly

Romantic Firefly, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

Like the distant twinkling stars in the sky
Is the extremely romantic firefly
Flashing his code to the women around
Hoping a pleasurable mate is found

Moving ’bout like a venerable steed
Knowing full well that he now must succeed
His encoder will surely go silent
There’ll be no progeny to be present

Reminding me why here I have been placed
Not to remain forever pure and chaste
But I have no romantic encoder
Must develop a skill even bolder

Yet that romantic bug to emulate
To find success before it is too late
Need to get my important message out
For all to know what I am all about

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Honeysuckle, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

You did not yield to winter’s bitter cold,
Patiently anticipating spring’s thaw.
Early sun’s warming kisses made you bold,
Attaining new heights never reached before.

April rain brought a carpet of flowers.
Nectar aplenty, it dripped to my feet.
With swarms of bees invading your towers,
Reaping your essence making hives complete.

Warm summer breezes carried your perfume,
To distant places on gossamer wings.
Finding rest upon an awaiting womb.
Soon the birds will feed on the fruit it brings.

A late autumn frost with its mighty sword,
Did still the honeysuckle I adored.