On the Seashore, George Elgar Hicks, 1879 Girl Seated by the Seashore, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz
The salt in the air
The ocean breeze in my hair The sun shines above The white sand between my toes The slow life that I have chose
Life at the blue sea
Without question completes me Giving peace of mind No matrix needed to learn No other place do I yearn
See the breaking dawn
Walking in the early morn Listen to the waves Each gently rolling my way Each a little child at play
Days never a bore
The coast with much to explore Gifts from rising tide Such interesting treasures Providing countless pleasures
The glow of the ball
Of bright orange sends its call Day is near its end Clouds looking like neon lights My watching eyes it excites
Seagulls leave the shore
I retreat behind my door With little to say But offering thanks I pray That I was given this day
Ozias Leduc, Still Life, Study by Candlelight (Nature morte, étude à la lumière d’une chandelle), 1893, oil on canvas, 36.1 x 46.2 cm, National Gallery of Canada, Ottawa. Lovers’ Pledge, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz
The glow of candles showed her nakedness
She slowly motions to come take a rest My pillow is her breast of such softness Hearing her heart beat the closer I pressed
All venial matters soon disappeared
While passing my hands over virgin silk Stopping at such places my heart endeared To kiss her flesh as white a pure fresh milk
The torrid heat of passion warmed our flesh
Sending the scent of love into the air Like serpents our eager bodies enmesh Hearts at the limits of what they can bare
The heat of passion pushed us to the edge
Where we happily took the lovers’ pledge
At the Altar of Love, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz
Lovers embrace at the altar of love.
Before them a milieu of millions came. Each smiles at Artemis’s glow from above. Here to praise Venus for love be her name.
The mist in the air does their love anoint.
Their wetness becomes symbol of union. At the crash of the wave to it they point, Such thunder won’t disturb their communion.
Remiss would they be, not to read each wave,
For the lovers, they are moments they share. With understanding, a love they can save. Their eyes held with magical force; they stare.
Their love for each other is the reason,
They’ll be together whatever season.
Her Ruby Red Lips, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz
Ruby red lips, coated by evening dew.
As they move toward me, heart’s pace bolted. She stops and offers petite smile askew. Deep breath taken, my heart is restarted.
Again towards me with, finger in lead,
Fully removed from between her hot lips. Enjoyed its taste, wanting her more to feed. Patience being needed to come to grips.
All during dinner, heart strings she did pull,
Stoking the fires of vivid emotion. Seeing her lips became ever painful. My heart is seeking some kind of action.
Paid the bill, we were quickly out the door,
Ruby red lips so eager to explore.
Lost to an Unknown, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz
Walking while holding the fluttering bag,
Twisted and turned responding to the wind, Like a hyper dog tethered on a leash. Suddenly a wind burst set the bag free.
Stood there paralyzed in raw disbelief.
Like a balloon it rose high and higher. Where would she go? What would happen to her? Gone from my sight not to see her again!
As she took flight why was there no pursuit?
Was she not worth the effort to expend? Or unlearned of a way to get her back?
It’s winter with the many naked trees
Their branches like pikes waiting for a chance To put its cold steel tip into her heart
George Dmitreiv, Warm Evening on the Sea Called by My Savior’s Love, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz
The mighty waves roar
Pounding, pounding at the shore Foaming rabidly Viciously pulling me in Death did finally begin
Down, down I did go
To the cold darkness below Motionless I am To be a meal for the fish Surely not my final wish
The bells did not toll
At the rising of my soul A light of pure white Fleeing to the glow above Called by my Savior’s love
Edvard Munch, The Sun (1909) Missing Her Warmth, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz
The end of the day
Darkness pushes her away Now not to be seen Her brilliant smile on my face Gone! Without a single trace
Searching was in vain
Each moment increasing the pain Falling to my knees Wildly calling out her name My love for her I proclaim
Great is her beauty
Traveling about blithely With magic power Everything grows with her touch As my love for her did such
This heart isn’t of steel
Ripped so deep never to heal Red upon the ground Mortally wounded I wept Without reasoning I slept
Warmth upon my brow
That I survived know not how Kisses fall softly Explains why she made her flight Though she’d like, can’t spend the night
Darkest of Dark, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz
Tonight apt to be the darkest of dark
She lies quietly in her bed of straw On this night she shall not be a skylark A struggle for every breath she does draw
Being friends since do not remember when
Moving my hand slowly across her head Never to have such a friendship again For this bleak darkness is my watershed
Stroking downward on her velvetiness
How her blackness shines in this shallow light Memory makes me smile in this darkness Fear never again shall we say good night
Only my lonely heartbeat do I hear
Tears for her shall fall for many a year
Love is a Candle, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz
I rub my eyes and shake my heavy head.
No dim shadows on these walls do I see, No single sound made to enter my ear. I’m motionless uncovered in my bed.
Many thoughts I chase around in my mind,
As dog after a hare for its dinner. Round and around only to catch my tail, For my question no answer did I find.
Today follows yesterday I am sure,
But future happenings remain unknown. Life is a puzzle we build piece by piece. As in my yesterday I shall endure.
For as did yesterday the sun shall shine,
Even if to be hidden from my view. But there are other ways to make days bright. The way I endure is the love in mine.
Love, there’s no easy way to make it last,
As it’s a candle, easy to go out. A question I struggle with every night, How to ensure love shall remain steadfast.
Love Yields Not to Time
The night had long settled in,
Signaling a time for rest. Not to be said of the River Seine, Like time, never takes a holiday
Two lovers approached Pont Neuf
Arm in arm slow was their pace. Trading whiffs of the other’s red rose, Deciding the sweeter of the two.
Each kissed the other’s sweet rose,
Into the river they’re tossed. They rush to the bridge’s other side, Waiting for the roses to appear.
Water flows but no roses appear,
Love has no understanding of time!
In the Gentle Rain, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz
Clouds of many shades of grey moving in,
Will not dampen my love, of you I sing. Any moment the warm rain shall begin, Each rain drop a kiss from you it will bring.
If you were here, we’d surely want to dance,
Oh how we did, on our very first date. Remember that day, start of our romance, When our lips met, my heart you did elate.
Feeling the rain, your kisses coming down,
Though soaking wet, them, I shall not deflect. With simple joy, tossed myself to the ground. If you were here, that would be better yet.
To roll with my love, in the gentle rain,
Caring not, if others think we’re insane.
Spring is Truly Here, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz
The brave crocus grow
Through the winter’s freezing snow Then there is silence There’ll be no challenge so bold To test March winds’ piercing cold
Then on a warm morn
In April as if popcorn They are everywhere Daffodils cover the hills Help creating countless thrills
Need not scarves and hats
Gone now are the fireside chats Fly free your cocoon Come take my extended hand To this yellow land so grand
Soundless, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz
Oh Beethoven how I wish you were here
To help assist me through this awful time Tell about when you could no longer hear Notes you manipulated so sublime
Colorful birds in the tree I can see
Is mating season music fills the air And I hear not a single sound they speak Limited to sit quietly and stare
Excited children with all their chatter
Their jaws up and down while I wear a frown I would love to hear their joyful laughter But very long ago all sound did drown
Life has turned into a silent movie
Oh to hear music again is my plea
Eternal Desire, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz
When seeing you I’m looking at a priceless gem
One which is more precious than the countless others You are priceless for there is not another you No other smiles, walks or talks the way as you do It is for this reason I desire you so much You’re the red flower in a field of white tulips
This fervent desire shall never be diminished
No matter the distance that you place between us Willingly I bear the pain from your resistance Although I flounder in this cold ocean of hope Life without passion for you there can be no joy As all human acts are resulting from desire Thoughts for this poem was triggered by the following quotes:
All human activity is prompted by desire. There is a wholly fallacious theory advanced by some earnest moralists to the effect that it is possible to resist desire in the interests of duty and moral principle. I say this is fallacious, not because no man ever acts from a sense of duty, but because duty has no hold on him unless he desires to be dutiful. If you wish to know what men will do, you must know not only, or principally, their material circumstances, but rather the whole system of their desires with their relative strengths.
Understanding Desire by Patricia Stacey
It’s joy, it’s misery, it’s an ache that you miss when it’s gone—what is it about desire that has such a hold on us?
Jan Jansz van de Velde, Quinces and Medlars on a Table Ledge (circa 1650) Sweet Taste of the Medlar, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz
Watching the field come alive for it’s spring
In the warmth of the sun I pass the tree A very special tree with birds who sing Soft love songs made especially for me
The white blossoms now gone I see its fruit
Of its bounty there’s one who halts my eye With a round dimple face that’s more than cute For her there’s a desire I can’t deny
Throughout the long summer I watch her grow
An anxious youth waiting for her to blet The wait too long for the coming of snow It is then when her growth will be complete
Thrilled to see the white dusting on the ground
This is the signal I’ve long waited for In repeated joyous song do expound To a taste not experienced before
Love Songs, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz
Do the nearby song birds sing of love’s plea?
So sweet their sound, a perfect melody, A choir reverberating in the trees, Any heart that hears it’s surely to please.
To be able to fly as does the dove,
Taking to the trees to sing of my love. A love as bright as this warm summer day, In your soft clutches forever to stay.
My love thoughts for you, my day they do fill.
Thoughts of our next meeting gives me a thrill. To cast my eyes upon your gentle smile. My love for you there’ll be no denial.
Under the trees to them we shall listen,
To their sweet love songs which make hearts glisten.
Nectar, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz
The warmth of the sun
Carried by the subtle breeze Comforting it is For soon my lover will come Filling my heart with much joy
With eyes tightly closed
I know she is very near For it is her scent Much sweeter than petrichor My heart rate is now doubled
With a booming smile
Waiting for her warm greeting She’s surely to give To my ever hungry lips As if they’d never been touched
Oh that magic touch
Her lips giving me a rush A rushing rumbling Volcano set to explode Tasting nectar from the gods
Dancers, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz
What is of dancers for me to adore?
Only one with meaning is the ballet. Did Terpsichore tamper my heart’s core, For the love of ballet shall never stray.
On a staged wooded land as nymphs they move,
Or the whisk of a baton, butterflies. Move with perfection or suffer reprove. While they’re dancing, I don’t dare shut my eyes.
Look about at them, all are so petite,
At waist, makes for such an easy embrace. Each angelic face so tender and sweet, Touching many hearts with their moving grace.
The world of dance may just be make believe,
But lightens the heart with no time to grieve.
Worthington Whittredge, On the Cache la Poudre River, Colorado (1876) Modicum, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz
Jaunted to the river’s edge this morning.
Destination was a place for yearning. All problems were deterred from entering. Be at peace without any conjuring.
Birds and water, music they do provide,
To clear my mind of any confusion. Cloistered here alone my thoughts need not hide, Offer contrition, seek absolution.
Take deep breaths and fill each lung with the air,
Clear so clean nostrils feel the peppermint. Cast my eyes everywhere no spot to spare. What I see and understand but a hint.
I need for greater power to unfold,
The mysteries so that I may behold.
Stone of Fear, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz
She stands before me,
Stoic as possibly be. All locked up inside, Like Vibia Sabina, Or the lost ballerina.
Drawn to this unknown,
All agog of her in stone. Where to find a clue, Of her true purpose or use. Drawn to her to be my muse!
Not of ivory!
Galatea is not she! But of her beauty, Who can surpass, there is none. Without word my heart she’s won.
Frozen by a curse,
A fate I wish to reverse. Be it for my gain! Again she’ll be soft and warm, Now quelled her internal storm.
Obsession, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz
I have gravely sinned.
A touch of the sultry wind. I’m without reason. My senses are all awry. This lust I cannot deny. Aphrodisiac! Her soft scent leads the attack. She isn’t yet in view, As if she’s “The Devil’s Breath.” There will be no angel’s death. She’s on a mission. Before me takes position, Displaying her smile. I stand frozen like Lot’s wife, Salt for the rest of my life? Unlike poor Daphne, I shan’t be a static tree. My branches shall clutch, Whom I wantonly desire. Ravishing her as I’m fire. What’s there to explain, Behavior labeled insane? Work of the Devil, Or a more natural cause? Controlled by my human flaws!
Ilya Repin, Leo Tolstoy in His Study (1891) This basis for the poem below:
The activity of love offers such difficulties that its manifestations become not only painful, but often impossible………..Leo Tolstoy The Activity of Love, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz
She will forever be a part of me,
Ensconced permanently within my mind. Guarded are thoughts never able to flee, Nor to the outside world able to find.
Though my many thoughts of her cause much pain.
There’s no cure to gain by human reason, Or warrant to declare I am insane, For not willing these vivid thoughts to shun.
I’m eternally doomed for loving her.
For unyielding feelings must pay the price. In the day it is she whom I’m after. At night my dreams are the devil’s device
Like Sisyphus I’m treated the same way.
No rock. In thoughts of her I dwell each day.
Oh the Lowly Cowards, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz
Oh the lowly cowards, they hide from view
Twisting arms and scratching with finger nails Getting their wishes from a very few Their pleasure is telling lies, spreading tales
The masses turn their heads the other way
With no desire to be disturbed at play While their eye be closed their rights will decay Soon it will be too late to have their say
Those who command shall be guided by rules
And their senses be most powerful tools They should not fear potential ridicules If they shall bend then they become the fools
If the rules be read in varying way
All that shall remain is for us to pray
Descending into Hell, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz
Imperative our bodies intermesh
Wanton love of thee cannot be curtailed Satiation comes with feeling thy flesh But thee gone so I’ve abysmally failed
Feverishly fighting for feeling free
No soporific can put me at ease While captivated by the thoughts of thee For these sins devoid of any mercies
Willing following thee into the ground
Searching for thy beauty in Paradise For a time the Inferno I am bound Forced to offer many a sacrifice
In the fires seeking opportunity
To quickly move upward to where thou are Yet patient, as I have eternity Although our distances are very far
Lost in the Wilderness, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz
My hardened heart is now devoid of joy.
My passion has gone with the summer wind. My search for pleasure never to deploy. My anger is my all for I have sinned.
You gave me a gift of heaven’s bounty.
You had asked ever so little from me. You are right to display so much anger. You only asked stay away from the tree.
We must now find a way to make amend.
We are meant together forever be. We will a path make for me to ascend. We shall share love bigger than any sea.
I must promise Your holy grace to keep,
For with its loss forever I will weep.
Henrietta, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz
A piercing look is so tantalizing,
Inviting me her body to explore, To experience what I haven’t before. An arousal I have been long wishing!
Such excitement for her as I’m painting,
As my pounding heart beat begins to roar. This stress unable to take anymore. How much time will I be weakly waiting?
Will I always feel her breath behind me?
Standing as if she is a prison guard, Watching over the king’s priceless treasure.
Not able to let passions to be free,
To have what is before me I am barred. Today there’ll be no reaping of pleasure!
Berthe Morisot, Reading (1873) Impatiently Waiting, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz
For the magical touch given by you,
Attempting to divert my mind I read. Love poems, which was not good choice to do, Heart is so excited, my love do speed.
The summer dance in the past I recall,
Eager nervous for our first rendezvous. We laughed so loud when you using my shawl, Twirled me a round and pulled me close to you.
My heart racing fast not due to the dance.
Music played on yet we standing embraced, Abruptly realized this was romance. Quickly toward each other our lips raced.
You need not hurry any more my dear,
As I’ve memories of you bring me cheer.
Love of the Scryer, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz
Mystical woman fully dressed in red
Now famed to be the best ever scryer Thou must read what’s inside this aching head Is it close to death or filled with desire
Holding object close do thee see thy face
With glowing expression that comes with love Thou must see thee and me in close embrace There should be a clear vision from above
If the spirits tell thou not, look at me
Placing thy hand upon this heavy heart Beating wildly showing feelings for thee So eager to thee my love to impart
Without a doubt thy heart thou can believe
Long as I live my love thou shall receive
Desire, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz
Your sweet velvet kiss is an opioid,
That dulls my ability to reason. Every vision not of you is now void, My heart is sealed in your private prison.
Your warming tender touch upon my skin,
Delivers the sting of a scorpion. My heart now in a delusional spin, Yielding to your every heated motion.
What can I do but concede to desire,
For I am helpless to all your power. That has put my wanton body on fire, Consuming all the yearning I harbor.
Was I just living a feverish dream
For I am drained feeling utterly weak Or some form of a diabolic scheme Lying here helpless unable to speak
The Cottage, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz
Peeking in a grimy window the sun
Wonders what kind of person lies within, A room that looks as if its day is done, Ev’n before its tenant is to begin.
The reptile like old man sorts out the hay,
Upon his head and wonders what face will I be forced to wear? None I dare to say! Friday! In my chair I sit ever still.
Blue dress and cap rotund lady with head
In cupboard checks each of its few items, And says, you’re all set, more than enough bread, On Sunday remember to sing some hymns.
He sat there hearing only his heart beat,
Pulses later all was still in the seat.
I’ll Try Not to Cry, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz
I’ll try not to cry,
As my whole world rushes by. There is not a brake, Letting me to slow it down. I wear a permanent frown.
I’ll try not to cry
There’s no cure for me to buy To banish this fog Which brings me much confusion Causing my mind barren
I’ll try not to cry,
For all is a darkened sky. There is no blue hue, No bright floating cotton clouds, No smiling attentive crowds.
I’ll try not to cry,
If this very day I die. As what could be worse, Than this ever present pain. Death removes this horrid chain.
I’ll try not to cry,
The fear I cannot deny. Wanting by my side, The one who captured my heart, To hold hands as I depart.
Guitar Player, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz
Remembering days not so long ago
You easily plucked the strings of my heart A rational mind said better go slow But I fell for you at the very start
In the beginning was a dream come true
We sang, we danced, an exciting romance Day and night, my thoughts were of only you But your actions soon broke that loving trance
At first was consumed with singing the blues
Was restless with many a sleepless night Trying to understand your hurting ruse But I’m alright with you out of my sight
Needed to thank you for making me strong
To you I dedicate my next love song
Explosive Love, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz
Lips upon my neck
No way to keep her in check Soon I will be gone My energy will be spent Not a moment to repent
She has a passion
Which I’ll never seek to shun For me she’s the one I wish to have always close As everyday our love grows
She drives me insane
A love I cannot explain One I can’t control Feelings that I have inside My passion now busted wide
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.
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
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
Theodore Robinson – La débâcle (1892) The Debacle, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz
A bridge so small yet we are worlds apart
What the differences be, I know not Was love for me when I gave you my heart For you were gentle to me at the start
Surrendering quickly, am I the fool
To resist I’d no knowledge of a tool Or in the game of love of any rule Which required one be vicious and cruel
I am more than willing to bear the scar
For it is true love just the way you are You shall ever be my celestial star Will not make a difference near or far
There is no happiness in how I feel
Want to assure you, my love was real
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
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
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.
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.
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
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
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
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
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
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?
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?
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.
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.
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
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.
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.
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
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
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
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.
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
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
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?
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
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
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
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.
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.
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
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
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
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
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
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
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.
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
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.
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.
“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
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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
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
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
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
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.
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.
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
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.
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.
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.
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
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
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.
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!
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.
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.
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
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.
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.
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
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
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.
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.
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
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.
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.
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
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.
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.
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?
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.
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!
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?
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:
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!
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:
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
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.
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.