John William Godward, When the Heart is Young (1902)
When the Heart is Young, Robert A. Sieczkiewicz
When the heart is young it controls the mind.
Love, the greatest reason to be alive.
It’s love that shows the way, even though blind,
It provides needed power to survive.
New eager feeling can be found inside,
As the bee in spring seeking a flower,
Here and there, everywhere, busy it flied,
Sampling but yet not filling its desire.
Only time can provide a love so true.
Will be greater than a carnal pleasure.
Gently quiets the pain that made you blue,
With a healing touch that will reassure.
The young at heart are easily confused,
Not always sure the heart will be unbruised.
John William Godward, Mischief and Repose (1895)
Mischief and Repose, Robert A. Sieczkiewicz
Dreams of love should be a gift given all.
For me there is none for whom my heart burns.
Be assured for love my heart truly yearns.
The joy for this heart to be in his thrall,
Is better than loneliness to install.
My friend, she dreams deeply without concerns,
Being with her lov’r on many sojourns.
Oh! It is my pleasure her dreams to stall.
What sort of friend awakes me from a dream?
Why do you idle than seek a lover?
Being in love is not what it may seem.
It cannot be gained being a fawner,
Nor easily got by some wishful scheme.
Love is two hearts giving to each other.
Vincent van Gogh, Self-portrait (1889)
Scars, Robert A. Sieczkiewicz
Look at my ancient legs and arms now tired,
Which carry scars received during my life,
Yet those inside most painfully acquired.
My heart being stabbed with a verbal knife.
Of many I’ve loved the deepest was you,
The sight of your beauty my heart did quake.
My many words of love to you were true.
In your slightest absence my heart would ache.
You touched me with an ever glowing smile,
The laughter was music to me unknown.
Of your love for me was quick denial,
Now within my chest is a harden stone.
For many, the world of love is cruel,
For me, I am the perpetual fool.
John William Godward, Summer Flowers (1903)
Summer Flowers, Robert A. Sieczkiewicz
You are like this summer flower, so ripe,
Having selected you from the many,
Thinking you could to be my desired type.
Holding you close to my heart with much glee.
As any cut flower you too wilted.
Pressed you in a book, as a memory.
Should have known to be a love so stilted,
To be saved you did never made a plea.
The summer is long, I shall not be mourned.
Will search many gardens so well adorned,
Looking for a new you being forewarned,
Avoiding all who are overadorned.
Stopping to smell many flowers so sweet,
Hoping the true you to happily meet.
Gerhard Munthe, Idyll (1886)
Path Forsaken, Robert A. Sieczkiewicz
Today is not the first day here did sit,
Pondering what path is the best to take.
Life in the balance challenges my wit.
Future depends on whatev’r choice I make.
Should the choice be made by the casting lots?
Heat I feel liken to the blacksmith’s pit.
Love at the end of each path rips my thoughts,
No matt’r the decision will cause a split.
Path to the right means many lonely nights,
While to the other ensures empty days.
Absent of either touch fills me with frights.
Just the thought puts me in a weaken daze.
Love is supposed to fill the heart with glee,
Then why walking this path is done sadly?
John William Godward, Muse Erato at Her Lyre (1895)
The Muse, Robert A. Sieczkiewicz
Erato, name so true, thou art my muse.
Gazing upon thy beauty motivates.
Thy every movement provides many cues,
While words from thy lips so invigorate.
My pen never tires when writing of thee,
Though thou be a far distance from my touch.
Eyes tightly closed I feel thee before me,
The vision I feel of thee is nonesuch.
Over my heart, Oh, the power thou has,
To do whatever be thy desired will,
As I am helpless captured by thy snares.
Of this shall write ‘til my body is still.
Why is it then that I must write so free?
So the future knows of my love for thee.
Robert Jobling, Sea Music (1906)
You, Me and the Sea, Robert A. Sieczkiewicz
You sit lightly in melancholy dreams,
With your flaxen hair flowing as the sea.
The beauty of your face warmed by sunbeams,
Distance kept, wonder if thoughts be of me?
Together verbal games we tend to play,
Confusing smiles we send each other’s way,
Always leaving a doubt of what to say,
Further keeping an aching heart at bay.
Afraid to ask the question should I stay?
Wrong answer will make my heart cold and gray.
Shall make no difference how hard I pray,
Will see but your back as you walk away.
Many words of love I will not mention,
For fear they would meet with your objection.