Like Me?, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

Like Me?

The apple does not fall far from the tree
So is said this dateless idiom goes
But I would argue they are not like me.

The apple does not fall far from the tree
But in their early years they were set free
The life that they own it is they who chose

The apple does not fall far from the tree
So is said this dateless idiom goes

Image credit:

https://homeguides.sfgate.com/organic-treatment-apple-tree-diseases-59077.html

Tattoo, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

Tattoo

The ink of my tattoo runs deep
Finding its way into my heart
Was dear, something choosing to keep

The ink of my tattoo runs deep
She’s now forever gone, I weep
Wish to know what drove us apart

The ink of my tattoo runs deep
Finding its way into my heart

COVID19, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

COVID19

We are all packed in at the beach
Stacked so high that we could not see
Tight enough to the others speech

We are all packed in at the beach
The others’ space all tried to breach
Yet there’s a sense of being free

We were all packed in at the beach
Stacked so high that we could not see

Her Hand II, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

Her Hand II

Her hot hand deftly slides across my thigh
While limber fingers did a spider’s crawl
My heart reached a red rich blood cosmic high
Every inch of me she begins to maul

That she’s on a mission can’t be denied
Her broad defiant smile left me helpless
Unable to move even if I tried
To conquer my flesh she is relentless

By the spell of a black widow spider
Ever slowly I slide into my fate
Of a fully paralyzing rapture
There is no desire for it to abate

Next to my quiet steaming corpse she lies
Like a hunter in pictures with her prize

Image credit:

https://www.theguardian.com/artanddesign/2016/jun/20/artists-selected-john-moore-painting-prize-shortlist-unveiled

Special Note:

Yesterday I presented a triolet and today a sonnet. Again I ask you choose between the two. Which is your favorite? Please comment which you chose and tell me why. Looking forward to your thoughts.

Her Hand, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

Her Hand

Her hot hand slid across my thigh
While fingers did a spider’s crawl
My breath reached a dangerous high

Her hot hand slid across my thigh
She’s on a mission can’t deny
Like an angler begins to trawl

Her hot hand slid across my thigh
While fingers did a spider’s crawl

Image credit:

https://www.newsbreak.com/news/0OIWGzbs/dear-therapist-my-wifes-sister-came-on-to-me

Special note:

Tomorrow I will post a second version of the single idea. Please read both and comment. Select the one you prefer and it is your choice. Until tomorrow

There’s No Greater Love, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

There’s No Greater Love

The beauty of your smile let me ingest
Let it wallow ever deep within me
As to put my feelings softly at rest.


Speak those velvety words I love to hear
Ones that draw me ever closer to you
As they flow rhythmically in my ear.


Caress me gently at your warming breast
That my heart may float so effortlessly
While I offer to you my next request.


Let us make love under the many stars,
Our passion greater than Venus and Mars.

Image credit

https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Hans_Mont,_Mars_and_Venus,_1580,_Bronze,_The_J._Paul_Getty_Museum,_Los_Angeles.jpg

Almond Blossoms, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

Almond Blossoms

The battles rage between winter and spring
With reckless northern winds and freezing rain
While the robin redbreasts begin to sing
And naked human skin fair game for pain

In the congested grove filled with white balls
Holding on to every branch of the tree
Fearlessly fights off winter’s final squalls
Knowing spring’s gentle warmth will set them free

Soon to be countless opened loving cups
Filled with buttery honey-like vapor
For days on end there will be no letups
As armies of honey bees collect myrrh

The scent of the almond blossoms abound
Sad their petals soon to be on the ground

Image credit:

https://www.vangoghmuseum.nl/en/collection/s0176V1962?v=1

Tears of the Tulip, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

Tears of the Tulip

Morning comes with marbled remorse
The once pure white head now falters
From its bed is soon to divorce

Morning comes with marbled remorse
Its gentle softness becomes coarse
The white tulip’s beauty now blurs

Morning comes with marbled remorse
The once pure white head now falters

Image credit

https://nature.desktopnexus.com/get/1826904/?t=915b3rckkbhao2uq5c9r8husi55ec6919499816

Man and Woman, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

Man and Woman

Oh let me look deeply into your eyes
So I can see the fullness of your soul
Will it match the happiness of your guise
Or is there darkness that’s taken control

To be without you is my greatest fear
Life to be an ocean of emptiness
My feelings for you not a mere veneer
For it is you who gives me completeness

Not my intent to be super selfish
It is you whom I wish the very best
Your internal strife I wish to banish
For your steady peace I shall never rest

It is my love for you that drives me so
Confide in me to help make your heart glow

Image credit:

https://curiator.com/art/edvard-munch/man-and-woman

Above the Clouds at Sunrise, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

Above the Clouds at Sunrise

From this high perch casting my eyes about
Drinking in the fullness of this fine earth.
Of what is to be seen removes all doubt
Nature displays its wonder of rebirth.

A new born spring is filled with such wonders
Some just short of possible to explain.
Grasped by a feeling within the heart stirs
Turning this aged body into a swain.

Overcome with my countless tears of joy
Of the earthly wonders lain before me.
This perch is the throne of the roi.
There is but One who could make such beauty.

Given to us to provide solemn care,
A great sin to put it in disrepair.

Image credit:

https://www.metmuseum.org/art/collection/search/700235

New Series of poetry e-books by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

First e-book

The first e-book in the new My Ten Cent Poems series will be 30 poems where the basis for the poetry will be the artistic works and life of Edvard Munch. His iconic work The Scream is known worldwide. Munch was a complex individual creating extensive opportunities for a poet. Throughout his life Edvard Munch struggled between love and work. I shall capitalize on this conflict in my poems.

Why “My Ten Cent Poems?”

The plan is to put poems into chapbooks consisting of twenty to forty poems. At ten cents per poem the plan will be to sell each e-book for $2.00 to $3.00 USD. It is hoped that those who enjoy my poetry will purchase some of the chapbooks to help defray the cost incurred in maintaining my blog.

Planned Schedule

At this point my plan on rolling out these chapbooks is to produce one per month. I have estimated that this will be done over the next three years. The poetic form will vary based on the need to making a compelling argument. However, as in the past foundations for each poem will be built on a image and the history of the period.

Minimizing downtime

My blog will need to come down for a period which I hope will be short. The blog will have a new look that will allow readers to move around the blog more efficiently. And of course there will be a store where you will be able to purchase a few e-books.

Final thought

Making printed books available was given much thought. However, producing them would reduce research and writing time. Therefor at this point no printed chapbooks are planned. It is my hope that you will follow me and cheer me on. I have written out a basic plan so there is no backing down now.

Sign up for emails so you will be kept aware of the progress and discounts on purchases.

Beware of Angels’ Tears, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

Beware of Angels’ Tears

A dark flat carpeting covered the sky
Without warning guns flashed ─ cannonballs flew
Such shaking ─ thought I was going to die
Overcome by a fear I never knew

Was like every angel started to cry
Feverish it was ─ was knocked to the ground
Thinking never again will I be dry
Then there was nothing ─ could not hear a sound

Looking upwards ─ there was no need to pray
The air was clear ─ all stood silently still
It appears today won’t be judgement day
But I was wrong ─ becoming ghostly ill

Those were really the tears of angels
Now they’re holding smiling devilish skulls

The Souvenir, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

The Souvenir

I carve his name into this silent tree
With the hope it would give up its secret
Cut it deep to reveal his love of me
Knowing well the answer I may regret

My flesh to him I did capitulate
To show my feelings are ever so strong
Desiring my future not left to fate
While praying what I ceded was not wrong

What I gave to him cannot be undone
Nor shall I choose a life of misery
For love isn’t a game that needs to be won
Or falling to ones knees making thy plea

The tree is now bleeding with its answer
I smile tasting the sweetness of amber

Image credit:

https://www.wikiart.org/en/jean-honore-fragonard/the-souvenir-1778

The Sower, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

Vincent van Gogh, The Sower (1888)

The Sower

Working before the rising sun
With pain in my sandpaper hands
Knowing there is much to be done.

Working before the rising sun
Many tasks unable to shun
For the weather gives its commands

Working before the rising sun
With pain in my sandpaper hands

Searching, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

Beneath the leaves, spring is preparing

Searching

Rifling through the darkened brown leaves
Looking for the colors of spring,
Seeking comfort from winter’s eves.


Rifling through the darkened brown leaves
Wanting what’s below them relieves,
That which makes my lonely heart sing.


Rifling through the darkened brown leaves
Looking for the colors of spring.

Love Is Like, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

Niagara Falls*

Love Is Like

Love is like a wild waterfall
And louder than a lion’s roar.
Into your heart fast to install.
Love is like a wild waterfall
That makes you over ten feet tall
With wings that to heaven you’ll soar.
Love is like a wild waterfall
And louder than a lion’s roar.

—————————————————-

Magic, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

Edvard Munch, Two Human Beings. The Lonely Ones (1905)

Magic

There’s such a magical moment
When you’re ever close by my side
But sad when you’re at a distant
There’s such a magical moment
To feel your kisses so potent
Giving feelings that I can’t hide
There’s such a magical moment
When you’re ever close by my side

Persuasion, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

Persuasion, Leonard Campbell (1874)

Persuasion

But if only to savor you
To wallow in your dainty scent
To do what I’m longing to do
But if only to savor you
To stay with you the whole night through
Knowing that I’ll need to repent
But if only to savor you
To wallow in your dainty scent

Alone, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec, Alone (1896)

Alone

She rents her body
To those who will pay her fee
Isn’t an act of love
But to keep them all happy
In her room or an alley

No one knows her name
Nor from the city she came
No reason to care
Just that they leave with a smile
Even when it is so vile

When’ll misery end
Or at least to find a friend
Her sorrow to share
Who’s real caring is shown
She doesn’t want to die alone

Journey, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

Journey

A journey that will take us through the night
With moments that will not be forgotten
Of countless shining stars that fill our eyes
As we lie together on the sweet grass

With moments that will not be forgotten
We plan for the days of those yet to come
While there is laughter thinking of the past
Holding hands wishing our feelings will last

We plan for the days of those yet to come
A ritual done when we visit here
No matter the specific time of year
To our special place that we hold so dear

A ritual done when we visit here
Adjusting to make sure our path is clear
Building consensus on our next big move
Entering many spats that do not last

Adjusting to make sure our path is clear
For we do not know where the path will end
Admitting now we are no longer young
But there’s many things that will never change

For we do not know where the path will end
Our new plans take on a shorter distance
But we still bicker on what’s to be done
A journey that will take us through the night

Winds of Love, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

Winds of Love

We stand staring at each other
While soft winds play with her long hair.
Sliding my hands across her face
Feeling the softness of her skin
While coaxing hair behind her ears.
Tilting my head moving closer
To the fullness of her red lips.
Her electricity moving
Through every nerve in my body
Producing a desirous state.
So strong I cannot hesitate.
Dreaded pain. I was turning blue.
We stood staring at each other
While soft winds play with her long hair.

Writer’s Block, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

Writer’s Block

Fixating on an off white wall
My mind is blindly stagnated
Can’t develop a thought at all
Fixating on an off white wall
Nothing on paper could I scrawl
My mind is about clear as mud
Fixating on an off white wall
My mind is blindly stagnated

It is the wall and not my mind
Can’t have a tree without a seed
How could I be so batty blind
It is the wall and not my mind
Without maps treasure I can’t find
Without a partner I can’t breed
It is the wall and not my mind
Can’t have a tree without a seed

Best I go to the great outdoors
To find what the world is about
Plan to take daily walking tours
Best I go to the great outdoors
Let the wildlife be my mentors
They should remove at least some doubt
Best I go to the great outdoors
To find what the world is about

Can This Be, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

Can This Be

Can this be what is known as love
This fever that embraces me
Burning deep in my weakened heart
Why is it I must feel this way

This fever that embraces me
My breath surely it takes away
Making me a more easy prey
For now I have no resistance

My breath it surely takes away
To the point of desiring death
Mumbling strange words that make no sense
As my thoughts are all about her

To the point of desiring death
Ridding me of this awful pain
All because of feelings for her
Can this be what is known as love

Persistent Bee, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

Persistent Bee

I’m a bee flying here and there
Seeking what is bright and real sweet
Always looking at what they wear
I’m a bee flying here and there
Looking for one for whom I’d care
She is out there. I’m eager to meet
I’m a bee flying here and there
Seeking what is bright and real sweet

Your Lips, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

Your Lips

Eager I am to touch your lips
My heart flutters with much desire
To feel them with my finger tips
Eager I am to touch your lips
Between them taking many trips
Kissing them I shall never tire
Eager I am to touch your lips
My heart flutters with much desire

Moss, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

Moss

Beneath the century old tree
The moss is soft emerald green
Teeming as it can ever be
Beneath the century old tree
There is much room for you and me
Come to where we will not be seen
Beneath the century old tree
The moss is soft emerald green

The Blue Bedroom, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

The Blue Bedroom

Freely I have given my heart to you
Thinking that yours would be given to me
Wished my many thoughts of you to be true

Loving you I thought the right thing to do
Obvious my deep feelings you could see
Freely I have given my heart to you

With every kiss we shared my feelings grew
Mutual feelings thought we would agree
Wished my many thoughts of you to be true

Deep into my longing heart you I drew
From such pleasing warmth I could never flee
Freely I have given my heart to you

Such a fool to think you could love me too
It was childish thinking you were ready
Wished my many thoughts of you to be true

Now alone in this room of crushing blue
Never to escape for I have no key
Freely I had given my heart to you
Wished my many thoughts of you to be true

I Found Love, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

I Found Love

There was a sound that caught my attention
In the deep darkness there were but shadows
Of trees that stood watch ‘til the morning sun
Surely the sounds are not the cry of does
Stepping on old dried leaves confused my ears
Stopped still to listen again for the sound
Calls maybe for help gave me many fears
For the direction of the sounds confounds
Sounds closer must be the right direction
With an intensive ear I moved with speed
There she was asking my full attention
There was not a need for my help to plead
Took her into willing comforting arms
We now moved to a more accepting place
‘Twas my promise there’ll be no future harms
And every day forward we shall embrace

Your Hair, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

Your Hair

The magic of the rising morning sun
Which absorbs all the soft sweet smelling dew
As its bold brightness advises caution
While silently I’m in rapture of you
You stretch as if trying to grasp the sky
While the sun’s light flies through your golden hair
Such a sight I dare not to close an eye
To miss the radiance of one so fair
To run my fingers between every strand
To feel their delightful silky softness
To capture their luscious scent of dreamland
That will hold me in total breathlessness

Confusion, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

Confusion

Like the desirous lion in his cage
Stridently patrolling from end to end
He gives no reason to curtail his rage
With mighty roars a message he does send

That is pathetic me when she’s not near
I chastise myself for such behavior
For loss of her being my greatest fear
A sense of loneliness begins to stir

There is not a desire to have power
Over her for it is she over me
When with her as a kitten I do purr
There is not a reason for me to flee

Oh such intense confusion roars inside
Is it foolish to let her be my guide

Lips, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

Lips

Please ask me not the color of your hair
Nor the color of your moon-like shaped eyes
For it is the motion of your lips I stare.
Their dewy redness has me paralyzed.

Many sweet sounding notes are framed by them.
They move in union as does the river.
Their power over me I’ll not condemn
Knowing to be doomed forever after.

Do you not see what you’re doing to me
As your silken tongue slides across the dew.
My heart pounding like the waves of the sea.
O torrid thoughts of what I wish to do.

To have your full red lips ravaging mine
With their taste being of exotic wine!

Mother, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

Mother

The hanger in her waving hand
A sign that she is in command
She stretched it out like a paddle
Swung it as hard as she’s able
Such anger I could see her teeth
The flaying wire I was beneath
Wack, wack across my tender back
Again and again there’s no slack
I would not shed a single tear
To her I’d not show any fear
A symbol of her life gone wrong
Within her sight I didn’t belong
Years later she finally died
On that dark rainy day I cried

Burning Heart, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

Burning Heart, a painting by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

Once thought that it could never be,
A burning love to share with one.

Love so great, took me to a knee.

Once thought that it could never be,
To love someone as much as thee.

It’s a fire greater than the sun!

Once thought that it could never be,
A burning love to share with one.

Free Again, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

Free Again

Impatient am I
To feel the sun in the sky
Throw open the door
Remove the shackles that bind
Many thoughts within my mind
To have my freedom
Returned will be so awesome
Going where I may
The soft spring wind at my back
It’s May time for the lilac
The weight of worry
Now removed gives me great glee
Suffocation gone
Many a highway beckons
Once again to see love ones

The Silent End, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

The Silent End

The clouds have devoured all the stars in sight
Such that I can feel the darkness of night
Against my clammy skin brings on great fear
For in the stillness sound I do not hear
Sought the expected safety of my home
Bolting the door felt I was not alone
Shaking from fever took on a great fright
My skin now turning to a deathly white
Quickly searched the contents of every room
Fearing this house shall ever be my tomb
What creature is it that I cannot see
Is it a ghost that takes my life from me
Falling helplessly to the frigid floor
All is now silent, a breath nevermore

To Embrace Her Again, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

To Embrace Her Again

The great expanse of highways are naked
White fish bones lines cover the parking lot
Stores are in darkness having been blighted
A single bag-holding shopper there’s not
I move with a feeling of emptiness
Wondering if I am the only one
The horror within my mind is ceaseless
Desperately wish these thoughts I could shun
The enemy unseen could cause my death
Anything I touched it could climb aboard
Like burglars in the night will take my breath
Worried what I may find heavy sweat poured
Could not drive fast enough to get to her
Turning into the driveway there she stood
Her gentle wave supplied me the answer
Moving close to her as fast as I could
We kept social distance as was required
The mask covered half of her lovely face
There would be no contact as I desired
Could be months before again we embrace

Grandmother, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

Grandmother

The carpet of demure colors was soft,
It deadened the sound of people’s voices.
The air was jungle thick, it made me cough.
To exit was not one of my choices.

Floral arrangements were both big and small.
Over powering was the lilies scent,
They like trumpeters guarding, standing tall.
Had a feeling Gabriel was present.

Before the open ornate box I knelt,
Thinking if I didn’t look it wasn’t real.
Turmoil, wasn’t really sure how I felt,
Immobile, to cry I was unable.

Whatever possessed me to touch her hand?
No longer soft, now it is hard and cold.
Looking at death I did not understand,
But that dark feeling I will always hold.

Persephone Please Stay, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

Persephone Please Stay

The weak morning shadows mourn summer’s song,
While bedded flowers are gasping for breath.
Trees of many sorts start getting undressed.
With a cool breeze, their leaves glide to the ground
Making them unfinished crossword puzzles
Dwellers of their branches have taken flight
The canvas of brilliant emerald green
Now takes on the look of an aged billboard
The awe-inspiring purple meadow rue
Once the proud snacking place for countless bees
Stands, its seeds un-ceremonial fall
But shall surrender to prevailing winds
The soft subtle fragrance of new mown grass
That had calming affects is no longer
All that remains waits for the killing frost.
Which will sadly come on the day after
The beautiful Persephone departs

Understanding Minds, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

Understanding Minds

Minds, incredible things inside our heads,
Able to respond with lightening speeds.
Plenty of space acting as storage sheds,
Sometimes apt to conjure up nasty deeds.

What goes on inside your mind I’m intrigued,
As you have ability to read mine.
To understand yours, my mind gets fatigued,
Asking if it’s a problem of design.

Why is it in a game of cat and mouse,
You easily capture, then you release.
What’s going on in your little playhouse.
Trying to find answers shall never cease.

Appears to be a possibility,
Of a woman’s superiority!

In the Darkness of the Night, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

In the Darkness of the Night

The heavy cloud covered night is a screen,
Obscuring any light from the new moon.
Yet in the darkness the mood is pristine.
It’s from your ethereal touch I swoon,
I am a missile lofting into space.
Higher and higher feeling weightlessness,
While exploring the beauty of your face.
Overcome by the sense of boundlessness.
Sharply hit by a comet I explode!
Felt airlessness in my upward spiral,
Faster than light my boiling red blood flowed.
Now frozen, no energy to ramble.
You have brought me ever so near to death,
It’s difficult for me to catch my breath!

The Gate That Separates, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

The Gate That Separates

Here I’m lingering wanting not to part,
To continue holding your velvet hand,
While you excite the pounding of my heart,
For this moment we’re in a fairyland.
But can we remove the cold fence that parts us?
Let our bodies be joined on the same side!
Be absorbed into a night of blitheness.
My heightened desire no longer to hide.
To caress your sumptuous loveliness,
While I’m devouring your exciting scent.
Running my fingers through golden fineness.
Loving you forever is my intent.
Isn’t it your desire to open the gate?
If not in agonizing pain I’ll wait!

The Artist and His Model, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

The Artist and His Model, Edvard Munch (1921)

This wanting heart is tugged by my feelings
As soon as she enters my barren room.
For it is special excitement she brings
That shall certainly result in my doom.
Her robe slides off as if doing a waltz
Now displaying the body of Venus.
I am overcome by my many faults!
Possessed by thoughts my bed will comfort us.
Adjusting her pose I touch her soft skin.
Looking at her I see a glowing smile
To place her head my hand is on her chin.
Desiring her there can’t be denial!
Her thick ruby red lips my brush does paint.
Deep thoughts of those lips enveloping mine.
My growing desire there is no restraint
Of her delicious body I must dine.
As if a drug addict I am controlled
By painful desire toward each model.
Mad, mad, to the Devil I have been sold
To share a love and life I’m unable.

The Devil’s Corkscrew, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

The Devil’s Corkscrew

Down and down the deep spiraling stair case
Darker than dark it is traveling down
Slower than slow for this is not a race
Quieter than quiet all wear a frown
There will be no rest till they reach the end
Round and round as if a merry go round
There is no way for a message to send
The steadfast rule is dare not make a sound
No crying or begging is ever heard
As new tenants enter the hellish heat
Greater than a witch’s cauldron being stirred
The everlasting journey is complete
This is the place that so many do fear
For treatment of the soul shall be austere

The Small Blue Boat, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

The Small Blue Boat

Her possessions robbed
The small blue boat bobbed
In the bouncing sea.
Tethered to the dock
Secured by a lock.
When the wild winds blow
No place can she go.
While rising water
Climbs o’er her gunwale
Apt to fill her hull.
Her jostling about
Has left not a doubt
Soon to the bottom
She’s going to sit
Having no spirit.
Nothing to live for
Won’t fight anymore.
So sad, slowly she
Sinks to her demise.
There’ll be no goodbyes.

Gentle Wind, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

Gentle Wind

The wind is a bus
Going here then there
Carries limitless
Things of many shapes.
Plastic shopping bags
Soon to be snagged
By the naked trees.
Fallen autumn leaves
Doing somersaults
Down the barren path.
Dandelion seeds
Like little balloons
Up to touch the sky.
And what of those clouds
That bring needed rain
Or hide the bright sun.
But the greatest joys
That the bus does bring
Are those we can’t see:
The scent of fresh baked
Apple pie cooling
On the window sill,
The soft wavering
Coming from the field
Of gold colored hay.
But greatest of all
After summer’s rain
The slow flowing scent
Of sweet lavender.
It is my desire
The bus to idle
And stay awhile.

The Invisible, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

The Invisible

The sultry summer’s setting sun sent rays,
Into the belly of the cool damp bridge,
Where cavemen left their colored painted sprays,
Along with their smelly stacks of garbage.
The discarded urine stained mattresses,
In a row abutting jambs of cut stone,
Offering shelter for long tailed creatures.
It won’t be long before they’re not alone.
Up above the howling freight train rumbles,
Shaking the ground below as would a quake,
And into the river it sends ripples,
With such horror the dead it would awake.
It is silent now the train is distant.
The tired sun slides behind the horizon.
Missing occupants will make their descent.
This day of misery is almost done.
Their shoes against the gravel can be heard.
In their step seems as if there’s heavy weight.
The air reeks of aches. No one speaks a word.
It’s not known if on this day any ate.
All are absorbed into total darkness.
Each struggles with an internal battle.
Seeing tomorrow they are not anxious,
To walk the streets being invisible.

Ephemerality, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

Ephemerality
Wispy cirrus clouds of height whisking by,
While countless diamonds dance on the water,
And swallows do somersaults in the sky.
Like children there is a constant banter.
Sitting in the cool comfort of the shade,
Quiet as a lion stalking its prey,
I wait for the fawns and does to invade,
To drink the water, but long they’ll not stay.
The wonders of this day soon to depart,
To return only as a memory,
Bringing subtle warmth to my beating heart.
Tis my wish these memories never flee.

On the Boardwalk, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

On the Boardwalk

She stands there staring motionless,
As a mannequin in the store.
The wind blowing against her dress,
Her hair like waves against the shore.

Her neck is fully stretched upward,
With her softness shown to the sun,
While her lips formed to say a word,
An expression without burden.

Wondering if she is aware,
That I stare at her pensively,
Or maybe she does but doesn’t care,
That I’m drinking in her beauty.

More intoxicating than wine,
Making my mind begin to sway.
Deep in dreams that she could be mine,
But she smiles, turns and walks away.

Such a gutless buffoon am I!
Nothing but a straw filled lion,
Lacking courage to even try.
This is why my life’s so barren!

Meeting Death, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

Meeting Death

I can hear the sound that is coming near
The galloping feats of countless hoof beats.
They’ll bring no merry cheer is what I fear.
Rushing heartbeats are louder than drumbeats.

I hold my breath. The chariot of Death
Is here to slay. This’ll be my final day.
I’m in Death’s footpath. There’ll be a bloodbath
For there is no way he will let me stay.

There is a darkened despise in his eyes.
A frigid fear runs down this spine of mine.
Just another sunrise Death now denies.
Without a whine I quickly made the sign.

There isn’t a sound as I fall to the ground.
It’s truly profound the love that I found.

Division, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

Division

The loud sound goes through me like crying pain,
Feeling like the earth is coming apart.
Sounds continue with a sense of disdain,
A grinding aching sound begins to start.
The glacier stood solidly for decades,
‘Til the stress, a very dangerous stress,
Created a deep crack from the tirades.
A severing split that starts an egress.
I watch as the gigantic iceberg slides,
Away to an unknown destination,
For upon it there are not any guides,
To direct it with logical caution.
Can the iceberg and glacier both survive?
Distance between them neither will revive.

Fighting With My Soul, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

Fighting with My Soul

Trying to control,
The strange actions of my soul.
Giving me no voice,
Of what my life is to be.
From it I would like to flee.
Bickering always,
Upon my conscience it preys.
No matter the time,
It starves me from what I need.
Roadblocks so I can’t proceed.
Applying restraint,
Pushing me to be a saint.
It’s impossible!
For against sin I am weak,
Besides it’s not what I seek.
The joys of living,
Is that which I wish to cling.
To quench my huge thirst.
Label me self-indulgent.
For pleasure must I repent?

Spring, 1889, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

Spring, 1889 Edvard Munch

The winter winds have paved the way for spring.
It is now time to open the windows,
To change the stale air and hear the birds sing.
Like sails, the white curtains the soft wind blows.

Silently she sits staring into space,
As her mind tries to remember the past,
While the sun’s warmth falls upon her pale face.
Blank without expression she is downcast.

To the question she can find no answer.
So weak is she her soft voice does not speak.
Will there be joy for her in the future,
Or like foretime and today one that’s bleak?

The birds went silent, her arms by her side,
There’ll be no tomorrow for she has died.

Spring Landscape, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

Spring Landscape

Outside the window
Is a dissimilar world
Of white and tense gray.
Absent the sun’s warming glow
The tired snow remains unfurled.
Waiting and wanting
For the water to set free
As it is now spring.
Many colors will it bring
And will put leaves on each tree.
Every day I watch
Praying for the warmth to come
Quickly to my place
So I do not see a swatch.
To see the ground will be awesome.
My drab winter coat
Is now stored in the closet.
The sky is bright blue.
Out of storage comes the boat
There is music in my strut.

Under the Tree, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

Under the tree

There will come a time
When I shall no longer be.
No more than
Food for the waiting tree.

In so little time
I shall be but a memory.
Fading ever quickly
As the winter’s sun.

Hear the tick of time
Rushing into the future
With so little regard
To the call of a beggar.

Love has little time
To deliver its tender touch.
One to last forever
From her I love so much.

From death there’s no retreat
Yet I shall return
As a scented flower
That grows under the tree.

Red Raindrops Fell, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

Red Raindrops Fell. This poem I dedicate to all veterans, past and present.

The red raindrops fell
Pitter patter thick as jell
Falling randomly
Like players placing their bet
Cleared with rateau de roulette

War is not a game
A winner we cannot claim
There are body counts
Each tagged then placed in a bag
Soon to be draped with a flag

None intend to die
Deny, is to tell a lie
They’re our true treasure
There’s a huge price that we pay
With tears falling every day

Without a goodbye
In the dark cold earth they lie
Silent they all are
In a place starkly barren
Not again to feel the sun

Consumed by Fire, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

Consumed by Fire

A moon so bright creates a lover’s light
Is I who wishes to quickly begin
By touching her unblemished naked skin
With my lips, won’t miss any part in sight
To taste her beauty with fervent delight
So crazed shan’t yield to any discipline
My vivid passion such a fire within
Shall continue burning throughout this night

From the window we feel the morning sun
I’m ivy, to her body tightly clung
Being repeatedly charged with arson
From the tallest yardarm she’ll have me hung
To her words I am not a bit craven
With a grin I stick out my hungry tongue

A Magic Place, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

A Magic Place

A stillness flows over the open land
A blanket, the sky is my quiet shield
The ocean rolls softly toward the sand
Powers of this setting sun is revealed

Stretching out attempting to catch its rays
Letting them fall softly upon my hand
Wonderful feelings, always to amaze
Overcome by this sight so still I stand

Watching the horizon as colors spread
The big ball of fire is distinctly white
Crowned in yellow fading to orange-red
Giving my heart such a delightful sight

Until total darkness I’ll hold this place
With the feeling this land is full of grace

My Winter Plan, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

My Winter Plan

It’s a very special time of the year
Time for developing a winter plan
Freezing temperatures shall soon be here
Forget about working on your suntan

The sun is now shortening her workday
Instead of bright green I see dull yellow
Many a bird has chosen not to stay
Instead flying away before the snow

There’ll be visits of the polar vortex
With vehicles preferring not to move
While their drivers suffer from the effects
This turmoil and trouble I don’t approve

My plan is quite simple to understand
Tickets purchased to palm trees and white sand

Love Smiled at Me, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

Love Smiled at Me

Love smiled at me as his deft arrow flew,
Toward the target that’s upon my heart.
Through the center, the pain was very smart.
Was paralyzed as I stood before you.
Struggling hard with every breath I drew,
Like antiquities was falling apart.
Unable this massive crumbing to thwart,
Feeling my final moments to be few.

But you gave the appropriate assist.
Leaning forward with your soft parted lips.
Sharing your honey sweet breath as we kissed.
Such a rush was able to come to grips.
This is a love that I have sorely missed.
Ready to take many more of these trips.

Full Moon and Wind, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

Full Moon and Wind

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

Summer Rain, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

Summer Rain

Many clouds made a sky of solid gray
Lightening of purple followed by drums
Not letting into the back yard to play
On the porch wondering if the sun comes

Both of us rock away, just she and I
Chitter, shatter, of many useless things
While we look for some monsters in the sky
She steadily rocks in Polish she sings

Both of us rock away, just she and I
Listening to the wind in the pear trees
She now sings my favorite lullaby
In unison with the late summer breeze

Both of us rock away, just she and I
Without ever stopping we laugh aloud
Caused by a silly breeze who was not shy
Came toward us with water well endowed

Now it’s but I who rock away alone
She is gone, gone for oh so many years
Feel she watches over me from her throne
In the summer rains I shed many tears

Do You Believe in Magic, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

Do You Believe in Magic?

It happened so quick!
In my head it was hectic!

Got such a feeling

Knowing I wasn’t getting sick!
And it wasn’t some kind of trick!

Was surely chronic!
Sweating, was getting frantic!

At the sight of her

Breathing was getting drastic!
Rushing heart, I did panic!

Have lost all logic!
She caused erratic static!

Entering the room

My illness is I’m lovesick!
Do you believe in magic?

John Street, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

John Street

The ice cold steel chains
Across the white blanket strains
To clear level paths
The monster with angry growl
And its language pretty foul
Rusty dual stacks
Puffing clouds of grays and blacks
Refusing to yield
The red monster makes its way
Pushing ahead not to stray
Flakes of white scatter
Recklessly from where they were
Soon to be corralled
The plow making dunes of white
Mittens wave with much delight
Towing my wood sled
It sheds rust moving ahead
John Street is our goal
It’s a mountain of a hill
Sure to give me quite a thrill
My feet used to steer
Showing not a bit of fear
Over the hill’s crest
There will be no stopping now
Speeding down I scream a wow
The ride is over
Wishing it was much longer
Looking up to see
The distance I have traveled
A smile for I am baffled
Life is like my ride
As did my sled time did slide
The sun is setting
It’s time to be heading home
Of this ride shall not bemoan

Love No Longer a Must, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

Love No Longer a Must

Her heart lies ever still covered in rust
No longer beats as it did once before
Her thinking is love no longer a must

Hurting in the past has made her biased
Such great pain she would not feel anymore
Her heart lies ever still covered in rust

Those special feelings she built all on trust
At first was anger that ripped at her core
Her thinking is love no longer a must

Pledged to all to be the very bravest
Never, ever shall there be amour
Her heart lies ever still covered in rust

Caring not that her life is the dullest
Asserting to all that there is no cure
Her thinking is love no longer a must

All tender thoughts are now in the closet
Not to be hurt she hides behind the door
Her heart lies ever still covered in rust
Her thinking is love no longer a must