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The Death of Chatterton

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

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

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

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

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

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

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Through My Window

Through My Window, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

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

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

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

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

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Wind, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

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

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

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

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

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Idleness in the Rain

Idleness in the Rain

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

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

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

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To Whom Shall We Listen

To Whom Shall We Listen,

a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

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

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

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

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

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Vision of Beauty

Vision of Beauty, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

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

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

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

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

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The Old Man

The Old Man, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

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

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The Proposal

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

The Proposal, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

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

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

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

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

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The River Runs Red

Artist unknown

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

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

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

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

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

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


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

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

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The Love Letter

Carl Herpfer – The Love Letter 

The Love Letter, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

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

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

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

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

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Thoughts of You

Thoughts of You, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

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

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

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Hylas and the Nymphs

Hylas and the Nymphs (1896) John William Waterhouse

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

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

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

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

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

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The Kiss (lovers)

The Kiss (lovers), Gustav Klimt (1908)

The Kiss, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

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

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

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

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

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The Bower

The Bower, Willard Leroy Metcalf (1907)

The Bower, a Poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

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

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

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

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

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

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Do You Remember

A Box Made for Memories

Do You Remember, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

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

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

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

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

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Seated Man at the Table

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

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

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

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

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

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

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Petals of a Daisy

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

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

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

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

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

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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, 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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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, 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, 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, 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:


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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, 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:


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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, 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:


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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:


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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, 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.

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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.

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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

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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


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


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:


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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


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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


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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:


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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

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Little Lies, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

Little Lies

It is there deep within your eyes
Fills my heart with a horrid hurt
Crushed by your many little lies

It is there deep within your eyes
With pain we must say our goodbyes
Our parting wished we could avert

It is there deep within your eyes
Fills my heart with a horrid hurt

Image credit:

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Buttercups, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz


The ubiquitous yellow buttercup
Filling the warm summer’s rolling meadows
A welcoming for fervent honey bees
Hungrily gathering golden nectar
We let them do their work unmolested
While she and I search for our perfect ones

Laughing and giggling as little children
Searching acres for the one most shining
Knowing the special secret that they hold
The countless generations have been told
To place under someone special’s chin
Will show their unrevealed craving within

Image credit:


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Beauty to Touch, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

Beauty to Touch

Flying in white clouds with silver linings.
Higher and higher closer to heaven,
Moving as if I had Icarus’ wings.
Reaching, almost able to touch the sun.

There before me is a radiant glow,
A potion of the earth’s most perfect gold,
In a shape that I am longing to know.
To gather in my arms to closely hold.

Of her beauty know not where to begin,
Be it exotic feelings on my lips,
Or the magic of her against my skin.
Upon my tongue her precious nectar drips.

If it’s reality it does not seem,
Tell me not it is an opium dream.

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Girl with Burning Candle, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

Girl with Burning Candle

In what light is it best for me to see
Shall it be by sun or slender candle
Sunshine provides warmth while the cost is free
While a draft makes candles hard to handle

But what is it that’s needed to be viewed
To gaze upon the high flying eagle’s wing
Or the lion I’m trying to elude
By reaching for the rope I which to cling

There’s no reason to toss the candle yet
For it shall let me see you in the night
To study your beauty I shan’t forget
The candle’s glow provides an angelic sight

There is plenty of light your lips to kiss
While what is to be seen I will not miss

Image credit:


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Like Me?, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

Like Me?

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

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

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

Image credit:


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COVID19, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz


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

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

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

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Her Hand II, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

Her Hand II

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

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

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

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

Image credit:


Special Note:

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

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Her Hand, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

Her Hand

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

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

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

Image credit:


Special note:

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

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

There’s No Greater Love

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

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

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

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

Image credit


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Almond Blossoms, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

Almond Blossoms

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

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

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

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

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

Tears of the Tulip

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

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

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

Image credit


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Man and Woman, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

Man and Woman

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

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

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

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

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

Above the Clouds at Sunrise

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

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

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

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

Image credit:


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

First e-book

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

Why “My Ten Cent Poems?”

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

Planned Schedule

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

Minimizing downtime

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

Final thought

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

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

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

Beware of Angels’ Tears

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

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

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

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

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The Souvenir, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

The Souvenir

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

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

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

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

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The Sower, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

Vincent van Gogh, The Sower (1888)

The Sower

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

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

Working before the rising sun
With pain in my sandpaper hands

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Searching, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

Beneath the leaves, spring is preparing


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

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

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

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Love Is Like, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

Niagara Falls*

Love Is Like

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


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Magic, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

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


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

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Persuasion, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

Persuasion, Leonard Campbell (1874)


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

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Alone, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec, Alone (1896)


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

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

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

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Journey, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz


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

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

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

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

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

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

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Winds of Love, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

Winds of Love

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

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

Writer’s Block

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

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

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

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Can This Be, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

Can This Be

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

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

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

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

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Persistent Bee, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

Persistent Bee

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

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The Blue Bedroom, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

The Blue Bedroom

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

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

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

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

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

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

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I Found Love, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

I Found Love

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

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Your Hair, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

Your Hair

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

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Confusion, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz


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

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

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

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

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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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Mother, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz


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

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Burning Heart, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

Burning Heart, a painting by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

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

Love so great, took me to a knee.

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

It’s a fire greater than the sun!

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

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Free Again, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

Free Again

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

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The Silent End, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

The Silent End

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

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

To Embrace Her Again

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

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Grandmother, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz


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

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

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

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

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Persephone Please Stay, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

Persephone Please Stay

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

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Understanding Minds, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

Understanding Minds

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

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

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

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

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

In the Darkness of the Night

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

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

The Gate That Separates

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

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

The Artist and His Model, Edvard Munch (1921)

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

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

The Devil’s Corkscrew

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

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

The Small Blue Boat

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

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Gentle Wind, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

Gentle Wind

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

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The Invisible, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

The Invisible

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

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Ephemerality, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

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

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On the Boardwalk, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

On the Boardwalk

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

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

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

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

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

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Meeting Death, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

Meeting Death

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

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

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

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

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Division, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz


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

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

Fighting with My Soul

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

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Spring, 1889, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

Spring, 1889 Edvard Munch

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

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

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

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

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Spring Landscape, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

Spring Landscape

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