Through the Door, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

Through the DoorSeventeenth Century Lady, William Merritt Chase (ca. 1895)

Through the Door

Here I stand within virtual darkness
Trembling with aching fear of the unknown
For my soul not the color of my dress
The past hangs from my neck like a millstone

Do we all fear needlessly of our past
Are our misdeeds self-expanding in time
Pressed so deeply forever they will last
From the hole we are unable to climb

There’s light escaping from behind the door
Can this be an omen of my future
Shall I have no fear of what my past bore
So many questions I haven’t an answer

Through our lives there will be baggage
What is needed is to offset it with courage


At the River’s Edge, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

At the River's EdgeThe Banks of the Seine at Argenteuil, Edouard Manet (1874)

At the River’s Edge

Need of an escape on this summer’s day
Seeking joy by the river relaxing
Far away from the tiring hectic quay
To lay upon the grass is not taxing

Bobbing boats responding to river’s call
Breeze makes countless ripples on the water
The sun places sequins upon them all
Water now appearing even brighter

Watching the many people come and go
Never to know what they’re seeking or feel
Noticing some alone and some with beau
The right place a quiet moment to steal

Dazzling blueness creates a peace inside
Providing venue your soul to renew
In this solemnness place you may decide
There’ll be an effort for a better you


Listening, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

ListeningThe Red Canoe, Winslow Homer (1889)


The sun made its entry on this spring day
Could hear the winged choir in the brackish marsh
No idea what they’re sending my way
For sure it wasn’t the weather being harsh

Mist floated off the refreshing mirror
Eye high to me sitting in the canoe
Fish had an appointment with this angler
Want to introduce my pan to a few

Mist is now history, not a nibble
Not a concern, canned tuna on the shelf
Idleness a chance my future to mull
Realizing world is more than myself

Nice to get away from problems that weigh
Listen what the inner self has to say


The Tender Kiss, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

The Tender KissImage manipulated by author

The Tender Kiss

She’s before me with impeccable smile
Her red lips softer than gossamer wings
Since touching their softness has been awhile
Just the sight of them pull at my heartstrings

With every inch moving closer to her
My heart pounds as if it’s a timpani
Each and every drop of blood starts to stir
Reaching intensity of a coulee

We are so close can feel the other’s heat
Our eyes now closing, creating darkness
Preparing for two pairs of lips to meet
An expression of love which is ceaseless

Weightlessness of touch our joined lips linger
We yield, I wish moment could be longer


Woman in the Garden, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

Woman in the GardenMujer en el jardín, Pierre-Auguste Renior (1872)

Woman in the Garden

Emeralds, Sapphires, Topazes, Rubies
Filling my garden this sunny June day
Come walk, feeling the gentle warming breeze
See bees here and there dancing their ballet

Stop to wonder a greater sight to see
Profusion of color before my eyes
Drinking without pause all of its beauty
All on display under a clear blue sky

No need for the gardens of Babylon
Or Cimetière du Père Lachaise
Forget manicured gardens of Fairlawn
For me to be, there is no other place

Each little gem I consider a friend
This is where I shall my many hours spend


Windflowers, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

WindflowersWindflowers, John William Waterhouse (1902)


Thou garner my flowers then dash away,
Thy beauty is much greater than their sum.
Alluring garden would be if thou stay,
Just remain ‘til thee be final blossom.

Sent the wind to touch your ivory skin.
Purer than that of newborn mother’s milk,
Protecting thy beauty which burns within.
Come stay awhile so I may touch thy silk.

Do sense a hesitation in thy pace,
Thy action causes heartbeat to increase.
Turn so I may see thy beautiful face,
This feeling of love for thee shall not cease.

Let me braid my flowers into thy hair,
And I shall give my heart to thee to wear.


The Rose, a Poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

The RoseThe Rose, Frederic Soulacroix, (n.d.)

The Rose

‘Tis my wanting heart I have sent thy way
Being fragile needing thy tender care
Between thy breasts for safety it must stay
No thorns are present to give thee a scare

Sorry that the token rose having tossed
Errantly missing its intended mark
Hope this not an omen to be star-crossed
As wishes in my heart to increase this spark

But why the sadden look upon thy face
Thine eyes are missing their usual glow
If thou wear a smile isn’t in the right place
Is something in thy heart I need to know

Thy quick response surely unsuspected
For it is woeful to be rejected