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.
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.
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!
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
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
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.
Translucent Waves, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz
Came banging desperately at our boards Like an unwanted vagrant in the night These glowing liquid eyes took no pity Rolled us as if we were inside a jug The boatswain’s call fell screaming to the deck Yielding to the crying of shrouds and stays The bilge pumps slurped as if gasping for air This mental torture continued for hours Slowly the weight was lifted off our chests
Helios’s chariot enters the sky Brought a joyous stillness with his fire ball The waters became a soft lullaby In the log book captain writes: Normal day The swabbies claim there is none more fearless Willing to take on Neptune at his call Or a sea monster that may cross their path But the truth is they are God fearing men Understanding the power of Nature Knowing when on her waters they are guests Later at the pub there will be stories Details in conflict are worked out with fists
This 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.
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
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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
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
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.
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
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
Eager I am to touch your lips My heart flutters with much desire To feel them with my finger tips Eager I am to touch your lips Between them taking many trips Kissing them I shall never tire Eager I am to touch your lips My heart flutters with much desire
Beneath the century old tree The moss is soft emerald green Teeming as it can ever be Beneath the century old tree There is much room for you and me Come to where we will not be seen Beneath the century old tree The moss is soft emerald green
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
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
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
Impatient am I To feel the sun in the sky Throw open the door Remove the shackles that bind Many thoughts within my mind To have my freedom Returned will be so awesome Going where I may The soft spring wind at my back It’s May time for the lilac The weight of worry Now removed gives me great glee Suffocation gone Many a highway beckons Once again to see love ones
The 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
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
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
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!
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!
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.
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
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.
The wind is a bus Going here then there Carries limitless Things of many shapes. Plastic shopping bags Soon to be snagged By the naked trees. Fallen autumn leaves Doing somersaults Down the barren path. Dandelion seeds Like little balloons Up to touch the sky. And what of those clouds That bring needed rain Or hide the bright sun. But the greatest joys That the bus does bring Are those we can’t see: The scent of fresh baked Apple pie cooling On the window sill, The soft wavering Coming from the field Of gold colored hay. But greatest of all After summer’s rain The slow flowing scent Of sweet lavender. It is my desire The bus to idle And stay awhile.
The sultry summer’s setting sun sent rays, Into the belly of the cool damp bridge, Where cavemen left their colored painted sprays, Along with their smelly stacks of garbage. The discarded urine stained mattresses, In a row abutting jambs of cut stone, Offering shelter for long tailed creatures. It won’t be long before they’re not alone. Up above the howling freight train rumbles, Shaking the ground below as would a quake, And into the river it sends ripples, With such horror the dead it would awake. It is silent now the train is distant. The tired sun slides behind the horizon. Missing occupants will make their descent. This day of misery is almost done. Their shoes against the gravel can be heard. In their step seems as if there’s heavy weight. The air reeks of aches. No one speaks a word. It’s not known if on this day any ate. All are absorbed into total darkness. Each struggles with an internal battle. Seeing tomorrow they are not anxious, To walk the streets being invisible.
Ephemerality 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.
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.
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?
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.