Pain, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

Pain

Pain

Come closer as I gravely need you near
To calm the hurting from my inner pain
Look into my wet eyes and see my fear
In solitude have tried to make it clear
But on the verge of becoming insane
Come closer as I gravely need you near
Pain coming from the anger that I hear
Rapidly it travels within my brain
Look into my wet eyes and see my fear
Each devil poking my eyes with its spear
Leaving on each cheek a sore salty stain
Come closer, as I gravely need you near
Yet nearer, speak softly into my ear
So that my good health I may soon regain
Look into my wet eyes and see my fear
Help, please so the devils will disappear
Say, by my side will forever remain
Come closer as I gravely need you near
Look into my wet eyes and see my fear

 

Subway Ride Home, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

Subway Ride Home

Subway Ride Home

She stood silent while is handed the bag
Nodding with thanks she turns, heads for the street
Her feet are slow, almost needing to drag
Outside it is cold, just starting to sleet

Walk to the subway a mere thousand feet
But for her it is that in hilly miles
Her heavy head down, there’s no one to greet
There are thoughts if there’ll be any more smiles

Steps she climbs to the platform are painful
The rail she holds tight, the bag much tighter
Now feels like she’s carrying an anvil
Knowing that the bag will not get lighter

The train has the force of a nor’easter
She clutches the bag like it were a child
Hoping the door will be in front of her
Inside a safe feeling but not beguiled

Gently places the bag upon the seat
The train will now carry it to its home
Closing her heavy eyes, again they meet
With tears like tropic rain, she says “Shalom”

Nothing special about the bag itself
What is inside was most of her life
Container once home to be on a shelf
For sixty two years she was his wife

 

Early Morning’s Dew, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

Early Morning's Dew

Early Morning’s Dew

Providing jewels to all with its touch
To be seen but dangerous to disrupt
Like the butterfly fears a human clutch
Even by a heavy breath they erupt

Looking at a red rose outside my door
Are they diamonds or pearls on each petal
Getting closer in order to be sure
Never to know for not being agile

Light as possible I walk on the grass
Looking back now seeing but my green tracks
Jewels gone without sound of broken glass
To me is very strange how each reacts

After a single step I am frozen
By a silk threaded jeweled chandelier
Below a tree branch so perfectly spun
With bright jewels more than days in a year

The sun made them twinkle before my eyes
Cannot believe such a majestic sight
Each jewel being of consistent size
Now begins to tremble from the sun’s light

Slowly each jewel turns into a tear
Quietly falling to the earth below
The once beautiful chandelier is clear
With deep regrets it’s the end of the show

 

David versus the Mighty Ocean, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

Eary Morning's DewSplashing Wave Breakwater

David versus the Mighty Ocean

Deftly moving to the breakwater’s edge
He chided the ocean with verbal taunts
With arms spread as if on a building’s ledge
Not modest as dexterity he flaunts

A wave came charging giving it its best
But the white crest was far short of the top
Now receding to take a needed rest
Ocean built up anger that would not stop

Wave upon wave came closer and closer
While the antagonist cheered the waves on
Again with feelings of being abler
With a mouth like a whale David was gone

Taking of David we may think a sin
But the mighty ocean will always win

 

Golden Leaves, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

The AvenueThe Avenue, Claude Monet (1878)

Golden Leaves

Whispering autumn wind came rolling in
Sending shivers to every golden leaf
Many of them beginning downward spin
Without displaying any sign of grief

The remainder held on with a belief
They have value and should somehow survive
Not falling to what they think is a thief
With power as to who remains alive

But are they some sort of romantic fools
Blinded by confusing view what is life
Distorting the basics of nature’s rules
Resisting can only create more strife

Trees stand naked, the golden leaves are gone
All now beneath the snow, none left to mourn

 

Perfumed Shadow, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

Perfumed ShadowShadow Portrait

Perfumed Shadow

Is now an early cool Sunday morning
Few lonely shadows are longer than life
As the early sunrise is just spawning
My aching demented mind’s thoughts are rife
Many of them I have been avoiding

The memories with her causing anger
But not of her, rather a careless me
My inactions she is now a stranger
Her needs I failed miserably to see
Now all I do is ponder loss of her

Each step I take adds to the misery
Head so heavy can’t see the horizon
A prisoner whose never to be free
Unable to take serious action
Each shadow passing by I think it she

The soft clicking sound of a woman’s heel
Quickly her slender shadow passes by
A curious change to the way I feel
Suddenly froze in place starting to cry
Scent of the shadow’s perfume was real

 

The Terminal, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

The TerminalSandro Botticelli, Drawing for Dante’s Divine Comedy, 1480-95

The Terminal

A desk-clerk’s inaudible voice crackles
Giving the departures and arrivals
Some people moving as if in shackles
While others on their back carry anvils

Acrid air itself held a prisoner
Resisting but no choice I have to breathe
Feels heavy, making everything a blur
Got the feeling of being in a sheathe

Grimy concrete gives unobtrusive paths
To inauspicious restrooms and seating
Concrete texture constant outside the baths
A long hot one wish will soon be taking

Taxing but decided to take a seat
Having ample time before departing
Thought the less than being on angry street
Of shoving people and taxis blaring

In my mind am querying why this route
Are Dante and Virgil soon to arrive
Surely Beatrice will not come about
Is this my penance in this morose hive

Vanquished people trudging by looking up
Checking changes made to scheduling board
While others spread their meaningless gossip
Feeding on those who tend their sacred hoard

I now begin staring at the schedule
The click, changing from on time to delay
Creating a pain extremely awful
Causing my gray mind to begin to stray

Bowing my head yielding to this defeat
Wondering if I will get out of here
There are now cold shackles upon my feet
Now leaving has become my greatest fear