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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

Featured post

The debacale of love

Theodore Robinson – La débâcle (1892)

The Debacale, 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.

Featured post

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

Featured post

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

Featured post

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

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IIVRPEnOi9I

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?

Featured post

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?

Featured post

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.

Featured post

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.

Featured post

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

Featured post

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.

Featured post

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

Featured post

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

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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Rhapsody

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

http://www.rehs.com/gregory_frank_harris.html?page=41&key=62

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

https://artuk.org/discover/artworks/old-man-sitting-225841

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

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Windrow

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

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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Stolen

“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

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

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

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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Strolling in a Wooded Landscape

Mills A A- Man Strolling in a Wooded LandscapeA.A. Mills, Man Strolling in a Wooded Landscape (c. 1850)

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

Life as in Death is forev’r waiting to see,
Nev’r 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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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

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.

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Up to the Roof

Up to the Roof, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

Come! Let us dash up to the roof.
To where the many song birds cling,
Happily to rusty antlers,
And we can nearly touch the sky.

I’ve basket filled with such delights,
A blanket on which we can lie,
While watching the world’s wide wonders,
Ever changing from day to day.

Reds and oranges of the clouds,
Hides the setting sun like a shroud,
While the soft summer winds do bring,
The quiet cover of the night.

The moon shows us a wispy smile,
While diamonds wink in the darkness,
As a calmness slowly descends,
On us as we warmly embrace.

Life’s such simple joys provided.
Quiet times with the one you love.
No word ever needs to be said,
Just the tenderness of the touch.

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Bittersweet Love

Bittersweet Love, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

A deep love for you, but you love me not
You say that words of love I must destroy
To love not I’d have to tear out my heart

At first sight of you my heart fell apart
I displayed the joy of a little boy
A deep love for you, but you love me not

You resisted love from the very start
Treating my love as if it were a toy
To love not I’d have to tear out my heart

If possible from my heart you would part
But to my life you’ve become my buoy
A deep love for you, but you love me not

Dreams of us being of a single knot
Such a lasting act brought to you no joy
To love not I’d have to tear out my heart

Confused from not understanding your plot
Confused on what effort to next employ
A deep love for you, but you love me not
To love not I’d have to tear out my heart

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Emptiness

Interior, Strandgade 30, Vilhelm Hammershø (c. 1900)

Emptiness, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

In silence on the cold threshold standing,
Thinking if entering can do some good.
Shoes making sounds possibly deafening,
The huge room’s center is now where she stood.

Windows all shuttered, shelves totally bare,
Dust shadows of pictures where they once hung.
Fighting back a desire to be elsewhere,
Thinking of happy times, of songs once sung.

Strip of light from the shutters touched her eye,
With great bravery she opened them wide.
No pause for thinking she began to cry,
Instant resolve, no longer will they hide.

Being human with feelings deep inside,
From this moment her heart she will abide.

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Cloud

Cloud, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

A grand boatless sail is now passing by,
Against the deep blue not leaving a wake.
Might accompany if I were to try,
With unknown path, just may be a mistake.

Now out of sight I know not where it went.
My chair is not of comfort anymore,
As the gears turn my mind starts to lament.
Could now be basking on a foreign shore.

Rocking in wonder, if it’ll ever be,
To latch upon an opportunity.
One as splendid, one which enables me,
Or to rock into mediocrity.

The future shall remain a great unknown,
It is up to me, the part which I’ll own.

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Falling in the Abyss

Falling in the Abyss, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

She leaned in softly
Toward my defenseless ear
Causing a firestorm
Turning me hot cherry red
Gasping, unable to breathe

There’d be no reprieve
Grabbing with her incisors
Causing bawdy pain
Her advances not to shield
For she has felt how I feel

There’s numbness of mind
As she freely convorted
But it was I too
Who willingly consorted
To a feat beyond belief

My heart pumping blood
Attempting to quench desire
Out of our control
As we reach the raging cliff
Now falling in the abyss

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Ecstasy

Ecstasy, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

The Hurdy-Gurdy plays as I enter.
Secured, not sure what to expect.
In stride, the ride departs command center.
Sitting forcibly back, I am erect.

Wisp of a warmly breeze puts me at ease,
Muscles loose, I feel the serenity.
Climbing steadily up beyond the trees,
Looking out I can see eternity.

Feeling joy to be in the open air.
A sudden stop, quickly I look around.
My heart deeply beating, my nostrils flare.
Looking down, thoughts of crashing to the ground.

Eyes glued open to capture all the glee,
Now that is the feeling of ecstasy.

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Ivy or Bittersweet

Ivy or Bittersweet, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

Studying the ivy upon the tree,
Steadily climbing for a better view.
It does so without payment of a fee,
Unlike hostile bittersweet, there’s no coup!

Making me to wonder, which I’m to you?
When we caress, which am I in your eyes?
Am I to you, aggressive sticky glue?
Or one who provides a pleasant surprise?

Smothering you is not ever my choice,
But there is pleasure with you in my arms.
If to climb higher you must have a voice.
My wanting heart desires your touch that warms.

Welcome me as the tree does to the vine,
For together our lives shall intertwine.

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Dare Not Open My Eyes

Dare Not Open My Eyes, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

The morning mystic maze of memories
Float as fog softly across calm waters
In the recesses of my laggard mind
Taking a form of silent silhouettes

There was me, there was she, stepping forward
(Such a rush, I dared not open my eyes)
Into the room, the door closed behind us
I turn to her, she turns to me slowly

I looked into her eyes, she looked in mine
We were frozen for a moment in time
While our hearts were sharing loving feelings
I leaned into her, she leaned into me

Such a rush, I dared not open my eyes
Her static energy fully absorbed
As if I were a naked lightning rod
Causing this burning heart to hesitate

Such a rush, I dared not open my eyes
Grabbing my chest, was it death I was near
For how could being in love cause such pain
Was this just a dream or a memory?

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Words to be Spoken

Words to be Spoken, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

Not to say what I’m really feeling,
Would be the same as to ask that I lie,
For if I were the whole truth to deny,
A horrible fate I would be sealing.

If true you love me not that is your choice,
And your heart you do not have to render,
As I’ll accept your words without anger,
But only if you listen to my voice!

You have possessed my body and my soul,
From that special moment we first embraced.
Your enthralling power could not resist.

There wasn’t any need for you to cajole,
Wounded, there wasn’t any need to be chased,
As this love harbored shall ever persist.

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Your Very Lips

Your Very Lips, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

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!

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Do You Believe in Magic

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

     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?

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Angst

Angst, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

Shaking my head from far left to far right
Not a point of no but of frustration
Cannot believe what is within my sight
I see people so full of delusion

No longer do people hold opinions
What is expressed based solely on beliefs
To becoming their religious actions
Providing no answers only griefs

Logic cannot any longer prevail
As would be a geometrical proof
To display is systematic detail
Rather than vengeful yelling from their roof

Observing people ready to explode
Not ever realizing what they said
Causing this worried country to implode
Hoping it does not come ‘til I am dead

Image Credit:

http://linusgallery.com/art-gallery/dillon-juried-exhibition-art-collectors-2/

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Unsettled Heart

Unsettled Heart, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

Like a moth to fire,
I’m drawn to you with desire,
Ever completely.
Neither food nor drink wanted,
Only love to be hoarded.

A strength or weakness,
I’m unable to confess.
As it’s not known why,
To you, powerfully drawn,
As dew to the sun each morn.

You are floating on air,
With rich gold dust in your hair.
A magnetic smile,
Without effort does excite,
While your bright eyes do invite.

Surely there is more,
If given time to explore.
Branded in my mind,
A feeling that will not part.
The cause of an aching heart!

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Politicians

Politicians, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

In bright daylight they huddle in darkness
Fearing their death by the riotous mob
Who attempting their freedoms to suppress.
Lunacy of the mob think it’s their job.

Open dialogue not again to be.
Fear is their weapon for conformity,
Destruction to all who may disagree.
Gone is any want of civility.

The majority willing to cower.
No longer is there any patriot
To hearken a unifying answer.
Democracy, mobs no longer covet.

Again this raucous mob hangs Nathan Hale
While Benedict Arnold they proudly hail.

Image credit:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Black_Paintings

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Wood Nymph

Wood Nymph, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

Into the woods on this whimsical day
Followed by free fluttering butterflies
They stutter around with nothing to say
But such soft beauty set before his eyes
They travel inward without given path
Jumping over trees in eternal sleep
While trying to avoid mosquitoes’ wrath
Looking all around they are very deep
Hearing the quacking of a single duck
Excited his fluttering friends took leave
While under wisteria boughs he snuck
Reaching the pond that he could not believe
A mystical place by time forgotten
Flowers of every essence to be seen
Their slow motion waves as if to beckon
To the clear water’s edge of velvet green
With precision every step is taken
For there is not a reason to be rushed
Need not a foothold to be mistaken
Fearing such splendid beauty shall be crushed

Tricky tense travel created a thirst
Throat is dry and scratchy as desert sand
Into a cupped hand water was coerced
Refreshing it is but only the first
Finally finished with getting his fill
Sat quietly listening to no sound
The birds do not sing and the trees are still
Searching but not a motion can be found
This quaking nervous tension gives a chill
Afraid that having step on sacred ground
This horrific unknown is not a thrill
Anxious that some creatures will soon surround
He who hasn’t ways of providing defense
Feels there’s evidence of fault should he run
Totally confused for nothing makes sense
What is willfully wrong what have I done
Filled with deep despair the eyes slowly close
Understanding the past he can’t undo
It is what it is he begins to doze
Dreaming of the beauty within his view

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Normandy

Normandy, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

Through my aged falling tears I see but blurs,
While the changing soft June wind comes my way,
Carrying scents from the many acres,
Where friend and stranger will forever stay.

Cleared eyes I sit silent upon a knoll,
Dramatically it changes my view,
While a feeling makes memories unroll,
Of this immortal place many fought through.

In the years passed this was a sea of wire,
On the ground were paths of quivering red,
Did the best they could, crawled to the hellfire
Hot lead causing crying pain as they bled.

At night phosphorous flares filled the black air,
Creating ghost-like figures on the ground.
Bullet tracers were for more than to scare,
Accuracy of a hit with next round.

Smoke denser than ocean fog makes them choke,
Trying to advance in this unknown land
Falling with pain the Lord’s name they invoke.
Gnashing teeth trying the pain to withstand.

In the darkness sounds of pain continue.
Through the damp sleepless night screams diminished.
At day break hallow sounds find their way through.
For them, agony of war now finished.

Their death cries I hear even to this day,
The scent of death unable to escape.
Oh how was it I did not have to stay,
Being a part of this solemn landscape.

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Water’s Edge

Water’s Edge, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

Water that’s blue green
Provides a view that is serene
As a mental wall
Of safety while on the sand
Scuffing feet while hand in hand

Seagulls sound their caw
Swirling like kites by the shore
Panhandlers with wings
Ever trying food to snare
But what we have we can’t share


The breeze off the sea
Moves her body close to me
I’m to be her shield
The joy of having her near
She says words I want to hear


Pleasure of our walks
Promises made in our talks
Sharing our futures
Thoughts of how life will unfold
And how it’ll be when we’re old


Today’s sun now sets,
With sadness but no regrets.
Now we travel home,
As we plan for our return,
To this place for which we yearn.

 

Image Credit:

https://pamharringtonexclusives.com/blog/retiring-in-charleston-sc/

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Woman in Paris

Woman in Paris, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

She sits silently at the river Seine
All alone on this frigid winter day
No one near to jostle her to explain
Just her and her thoughts sitting on the quay

She wears a silly smirk upon her face
Wondering how it is she’ll free herself
From a life she feels is so commonplace
One ordered as a library bookshelf

She came with hope to the City of Light
Looking for that something she did not know
An experience that could make life bright
A warmth that would make her lonely heart glow

Image credit:

https://www.cathyjohansen.com/gallery

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To What End

To What End, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

In the deep darkness of the night
My heart pounds louder than a drum.
Being wet with cancerous fright
Wondering what we have become.

There are bright flashes then the sound.
The tiger now seeking fresh meat.
Silhouettes falling to the ground.
There’s boundless hate upon the street.

The many symbols of the past
Falling to the revenging mob
As if a lynching death comes fast.
This gruesome scene is macabre.

The once stores are now volcanoes
Spewing fire and ash to the sky.
Will it ever cease no one knows.
Before the end must many die?

The past can never be undone.
Our future forced to wear the scars.
From toxic snakes we’ve been bitten
Now we must walk among the chars.

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A Fruit of Passion

Passion Vine (Passiflora incarnata)

A Fruit of Passion, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

The southern window
Presented her sublime glow
Studied her movement
Of a perfect pendulum
With not a fear of boredom

Timed with morning breeze
Every action she did please
Oh to caress her
Bring to my lips so gently
Lingering there patiently

But to know her first
She must know for her I thirst
Of countless many
She’s the one for whom I wait
It is she who spins my fate

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The Scent of Love

Sinningia ‘Isa’s Scent of Love’, 2018, IR181419, hybridized by Chen Yi-Chen, Taiwan.

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

Never knew what this feeling meant
Near you losing total control
I love the magic of your scent

Ever confused of how things went
Not knowing what’s my proper role
Never knew what this feeling meant

To be what wasn’t I would invent
No resistance to your cajole
I love the magic of your scent

Captured by a taste so fragrant
Pranced about like a new born foal
Never knew what this feeling meant

This feeling didn’t try to prevent
Your prisoner not on parole
I love the magic of your scent

Life is happy with such torment
As my wanting heart you unroll
Never knew what this feeling meant
I love the magic of your scent

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A Friend

A Friend, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

On the quarry rock
For a treasure I do stalk
Pleasing to the eye
Must fit in my front pocket
Not much bigger than a nut
The noon sun shines bright
Twinkles seen as stars at night
Tiny quartz mirrors
Each calls for my attention
One will get my affection
Many I inspect
By their surface I reject
Must provide comfort
While I hold it in my hand
Long future for it is planned
I feel all alone
All I seek is but a stone
That will be my friend
One to always stay with me
No matter the place I’d be

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Yearning

Yearning, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

Within my lonely heart dessert winds burn.
Shifting sands with no refuge in my sight.
Thirsting, looking, but there is no cistern.
No warmth provided on this frigid night.

Gone are the nights when I needed no fire.
Your beauty provided needed repose.
Was your loving touch that quenched my desire.
Just your being close removed any woes.

Minus your love suffering deepest throes,
You are a life I can’t ever let go.
How I cherish the joy your love bestows,
Only you who can set my heart aglow.

Oh how I crave for your love to return,
For it is only you for whom I yearn.

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Acacia Tree

Acacia Tree, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

Look closely at me,
I am the Acacia tree.
Alone I do stand.
Any wasteland is my home.
Planted my roots. Do not roam.
Moving, I’ll resist
Those who viciously insist.
My roots stretching deep
Helping me to stay alive
While the others can’t survive.
At my wrinkled face
They throw fits to make their case
While I stand my ground.
Their buffeting I ignore
Even if they call for war.
Let me live in peace.
I know their hate will not cease.
Anger will go on,
Crying in sickening grief.
From me there’ll be no relief.
‘Cause I am different
There should not be a judgement
That I make a change.
For them I will not suborn.
From my roots will not be torn.

Click here to buy this book
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Where is Heaven

Where’s Heaven, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

Staring upward at the still midnight sky,
Diamond dust everywhere is to be seen.
Amazement comes over me as to why,
Needing help to know what does all this mean?

Twinkling stars millions of light years away,
But where does all this cosmic matter end?
Such a thought leaves my mind in disarray,
I know not any logic to defend.

“Where’s heaven?” if I may politely ask,
The place for my soul to forever be.
To understand a Herculean task!
Having knowledge of it would set me free.

My heavenly Father, I feel exists,
All from the feeling while I talk to Him,
Though there is no response my faith persists,
Singing with joy His wonders in a hymn.

Click here to buy my new book
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Translucent Waves

Ship on Stormy Seas, Ivan Konstantinovich Aivazovsky (1887)

Translucent Waves, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

Came banging desperately at our boards
Like an unwanted vagrant in the night
These glowing liquid eyes took no pity
Rolled us as if we were inside a jug
The boatswain’s call fell screaming to the deck
Yielding to the crying of shrouds and stays
The bilge pumps slurped as if gasping for air
This mental torture continued for hours
Slowly the weight was lifted off our chests

Helios’s chariot enters the sky
Brought a joyous stillness with his fire ball
The waters became a soft lullaby
In the log book captain writes: Normal day
The swabbies claim there is none more fearless
Willing to take on Neptune at his call
Or a sea monster that may cross their path
But the truth is they are God fearing men
Understanding the power of Nature
Knowing when on her waters they are guests
Later at the pub there will be stories
Details in conflict are worked out with fists

This image has an empty alt attribute; its file name is Book-Cover-647x1024.png
Click here to buy my book

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You Are a Poem, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

The Love Letter (1904), Nina Hardy

You Are a Poem

You are a poem
One that is truly blithesome
Of a perfect form
With its words very pleasant
And placed to be so fragrant

Over and over
Words of love you do offer
Makes me warm inside
Putting a glow on my face
Not a single word I’ll waste

Your poem isn’t long
But the words are very strong
When talking of love
As if words are carved in stone
Not ever to be outgrown

When you are not near
In your poem you appear
How it makes me smile
Fingers float across the page
With you I am now engaged

Coming to the end
I reach for a dividend
To read it again
Every word I read out loud
With such force they’ll reach a cloud

Click here to buy my new book

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Writing of a Love, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

Writing of a Love

The dark blue inked pen I hold in my hand,
While there is a log jam within my mind,
Writing of a love I don’t understand.

My heart is locked, my mind isn’t in command.
No words, just pictures of her do I find.
The dark blue inked pen I hold in my hand.

Love in my life did not go as was planned.
Thinking our hearts would surely be combined.
Writing of a love I don’t understand.

I may have made too much of a demand.
Shall I write, “Sorry for being so blind?”
The dark blue inked pen I hold in my hand.

My love passes through her hands as if sand.
But how is my true love to be defined?
Writing of a love I don’t understand.

Shall I write, “My feelings should not be banned?”
How I struggle on what should be opined.
The dark blue inked pen I hold in my hand,
Writing of a love I don’t understand.

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Confluence, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

Confluence

From the hill above,
Perched as if I were a dove.
My mind is affixed,
To two young streams floating by,
With unlike hues of the sky.

Surfaces like glass,
Cutting their way through green grass.
I see the two streams,
As people lined in a queue.
I’m in one the other you.

Lives that are aimless,
Traveling without purpose,
Without burning hearts,
Not challenging any bend,
Their lives absent foe or friend.

Little did each know,
Their emotions would soon grow
Entering conflux!
All jostled and tossed about,
Their distinct hues faded out.

There is in my mind,
Thoughts of couples intertwined
Hands joined, traveling,
Life together that they’ll spend,
In love to the river’s end.

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Veiled Memory, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

Veiled Memory

This soft black leather chair in which I sit,
Will jettison me to my days gone by.
With heavy eyes my mind begins to roam,
Not ever certain where it will take me.

Over several years recently past,
I am seeing memories through a veil,
Like my grandmother’s favorite curtains,
Aged by the sun and not perfectly pure.

In the crowd of faces some are obscured.
Not sure of who or when, faintly confused.
Then there are those who are frozen in time.
Through remaining years they will surely stay.

The longer I think the lower I sink,
Into dreams that are fully distorted,
Or are they but my confused memories,
Because the curtain is getting darker.

There will come a time, never knowing when
The translucent curtain will be a drape,
The day when my long past will not matter.
It shall be what the future will provide.

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What’ll Summer Bring, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

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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You are Gravity and My Anchor, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

You are Gravity and My Anchor

Gravity keeps the world in firm order,
As you have accomplished with precious love.
If not for you I would surely falter,
As your strength is my ever glowing dove.

You guide me softly where I need to be,
For on many issues you are so right.
Though hard to concede when I disagree,
More and more now yielding to your insight.

There’s a multitude of sorrows I hold,
But there is one that I most grieve over.
Times your mind I attempted to control,
Not realizing you were the anchor.

Today there is something I’d love to give,
But I cannot give what I never had.
Instead request you willingly forgive,
Knowing my love of you is ironclad.

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My Princess, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

My Princess

Since you arrived how fast the years float by,
Faster than billows of clouds in the sky.
Wishing all days of your life would slow down,
For it is not every day I’m around.

Remembering the first time in my arms,
A fragile infant turning on your charms.
Creating gentle warmth inside of me,
Even though knowing of you just barely.

Passing of time I learned to love you more.
Your hugs and kisses in my heart I store.
While in my mind I hide my many tears,
Your nightingale voice shan’t fall on my ears.

That day shall soon come when you move away,
My princess in my heart you’ll ever stay.

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The Battle of Hope and Fear, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

The Battle of Hope and Fear

Our very lives exist on hope and fear.
It is hope that helps beat back the dark night,
But it succumbs to what comes in the light,
Causing anxiety when things aren’t clear.

Fear is fostering more than just a tear,
Where all hope will easily take its flight,
And deepest fears take on a deathly fight,
As with a knife any hope fear will shear.

Is there a force fear cannot overcome?
It appears what still remains is our faith,
That we can bring back lives to be as one.

Is anarchy what our lives have become?
Will in our future all to be seen is wraith?
Life can’t be saved at a point of a gun!

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Partners, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

Partners

The morning peeks over the horizon
Sending a light kiss through the room’s window
It is special signal to let me know
That another new day had now begun

My quiet moments of dreaming are done
Jolting sleeping energy it’s time go
With much vim and vigor cannot be slow
Downing nourishment my engine will hum

Going out the sun follows me to work
Into the green fields to help the crops grow
The sun is my partner in this wonder

From many daily chores no choice to shirk
For there is so much to the land I owe
Will labor until the sun goes under

Image credit:

https://artsandculture.google.com/asset/the-haymaker/HQFSu8d7gfSlbg

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Widow’s Walk, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

Widow’s Walk

Stoically she stood, the salty air
Driven by the hot summer southward winds.
For but a moment her thought she rescinds
But not of her insistent nervous stare.

To the horizon from the widow’s walk,
Searching for a very special object.
Without it her life would be fully wrecked.
With current thoughts she’s unable to talk.

For tea the small table was set for two,
To sit and talk about each other’s day,
As they have done so countless times before.

Together this place is a pleasant view.
Alone, the only thing to do is pray.
At this moment her tears begin to pour.

Image credit

https://www.peakpx.com/11192/illustration-of-dark-blue-sky-and-body-of-water

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Edvard Munch and Me, a poetry book by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

My latest poetry book

Description of book

This book of poetry is an experiment which focuses on the life of Edvard Munch, an Expressionist artist who created paintings based on what he saw and felt internally. The author studied the diaries as well as several biographies of Munch. The notes in his diaries weaved a life of love, hate, anxiety and death. In his book of poetry the author has included many quotes he used in an attempt to take on the voice of Munch. Each of the author’s poems written relates to a specific piece of art done by Munch. Many of the poems relate the to Munch’s time just before entering a sanitarium for alcoholism and mental issues. The author feels that he has a better understanding of the complexity of life by having studied the life of Edvard Munch.

My book will soon be available at Amazon.com

Since my blog is not monetized I will be posting a link to purchase the book. Once the paperback is done an e-book will be made available.

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Starry, Starry Night, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

Starry, Starry Night

This warm night the moon is but a sliver
Creating a flat sky of black onyx
Darker than those scary houses’ attics
Tonight seeking a specific answer

Placing my new field glasses to my eyes
Seeing jewels of topaz and diamonds
There must be many thousands of thousands
Of my understanding surely defies

In the darkness does the universe end
A place where mere humans to never go
Past the stars is there a place that’s hallow

At death is this where souls will ever spend?
It’ll give great peace if I could somehow know.
Or into the dark ground that is fallow?

Image credit

https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Night_Sky_Stars_Trees_02.jpg

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Strawberry Moon, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

Strawberry Moon

The laborious work day is now done
All the tools are cleaned and put in the shed
Giving my thanks to the now setting sun
With a broad smile into the house I tread

This night in June will be bright for certain
For the moon is full much color it will spread
It will be a grand show second to none
Creating sights to be stored in my head

It’s the first night of the strawberry moon
The ball in the night sky will not be white
Gathering its color will make you swoon

Listening to nightingales sing their tune
I’m wishing to remain outside all night
But is will be strawberry picking soon

Image Credit:

https://life.shared.com/beautiful-full-strawberry-moon-to-take-place-this-weekend-and-you-wont-want-to-miss-it

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Dawning, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

A magical feeling with every dawn
The blurred gentle softness to start the day
To be without rush in a thinking way
Reaching for the subdued blue sky I yawn

See the wet veil on an emerald lawn
Broken by red-breast robins seeking worms
Jostling them out on their aggressive terms
Sharing the space with the brown speckled fawn

The dawn can’t honor my pleading request
While I slowly drink all of her beauty
Meaning now it is my time to get dressed

It is time to pursue my daily quest
Of solemnly sworn to do my duty
So no matter the day to do my best

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Raging River, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

Raging River

The raging river takes command
Demanding acts of contrition
As it passes over the land
With vengeance sparing not a one.

Tall trees with their righteous egos
Are now but timbers on the ground.
Bare, having given up their clothes,
Motionless, not making a sound.

The rocks hardened by stubbornness
Not accepting another’s rule.
Falsely thinking they are ageless,
The river shows them who’s the fool!

The river takes all to their knees.
Giving baptism to those who choose,
Putting their needing souls at ease.
From the river we take its cues.

Image credit:

Herman Herzog, Raging River (not dated)

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Psyche in the Temple of Love, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

Psyche in the Temple of Love

Our lips first touched secretly in the grove
Its taste was that of the honeysuckle
Together our young unskilled hearts we wove
A tender spring love was born in April

There is a great fear now that it is May
Since that sunny day his eyes I’ve not seen
Has he forgot promises on that day
That not another heart shall come between

Coaxing the butterfly to seek him out
The agony in my heart he must know
My love for him there is not any doubt
The fire in my heart can melt winter’s snow

Here praying that I’m not a childish fool
Being in love can be mean and cruel

Image credit:

Edward John Poynter, Psyche in the Temple of Love (1882)

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Unfaithful to Myself, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

Unfaithful to Myself

I cry not because I’m about to die
But regrettably what I’ve failed to do
To myself I have not been fully true
Finding it easier to tell a lie


Wishing now that the harder I did try
This problem thinking I would soon outgrow
Yet, the falsehoods continued to flow
Oh why, oh why, for the life of me why

My lies repeated soon became the truth
Becoming that someone but not myself
Uncomfortable in the borrowed shell


All those secrets I hid destroyed my youth
I have sinned for was not true to myself
For this my greatest fear to burn in hell

Image credit:

Edvard Munch, Old Man Praying (1902)

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High Above, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

High Above

In our embrace there’s no earth beneath us
The stormy clouds that were have gone away
Our warm feelings which abound are ageless
Be night or day together we shall stay

There is love music only we can hear
We dance moving tenderly in the air
A vision of love we hold ever near
Captured within each other’s eyes we stare

To our emotions we willingly yield
Flowery scent of love my lips can taste
Moving higher our passions are unsealed
Of this intimate moment we’ll not haste

In this vacuum floating far above
Totally absorbed in our precious love