Tears, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

RainRain, Ivan Ivanovich Endogurov (c. 1900)

Tears

A cold dismal wind blows from the north-east
History has told me that it meant rain
Or dark dreary devilish day the least
Giving many a reason to complain

Stood at the open back door for awhile
Feeling each gray drop land upon my face
The constant pummeling soon made me smile
Firmly grabbing the door jamb for my brace

Thinking I’m the fool getting soaking wet
By now my clothes beaten against my skin
Illness could possibly be a grave threat
Laughing now, all my clothes I did unpin

Rushed outside with head up to drink the tears
Felt good as they washed away all my fears

 

The First Nail, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

The First NailImage manipulated by author

First Nail

Blood, sweat and dust mixes upon my head
Now at the demonic place of the skull
Soiled and tattered robe swiftly made to shed
Knocked to the hardened ground, there is a lull

The rope around my wrist and tree is tight
Is readying me for what is to pass
Point joggled and pressed between bones till right
With swift arc, action sounds like broken glass

Adrenaline rush due to the unknown
Then my scream from excruciating pain
For every heart beat comes a wincing groan
As my precious blood falls upon the plain

Father in Heaven Your will, will be done
Three days now I wait for the morning sun

Fuchsia, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

FuchsiaYoung Pensive Woman Turned to the Left, Edgar Maxence (1900)

Fuchsia

Dare not interrupt your reflective thought
But wondering where is it you may be
Is it a deeply felt love gone for naught
Or in distant land beyond mighty sea

To me your choice to be another place
Could be easily taken by trade winds
Where dangling fuchsia every garden lace
Afar land of dreams which no one rescinds

Have traveled to place of exotic dreams
Palm trees sway softly in time with the waves
Clear water filling silent moving streams
With endless beauty your heart it enslaves

Advice I give, book passage right away
If it is love you seek, waste not a day

 

The Green Parrot, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

The Green ParrotThe Green Parrot, Vincent Van Gogh (1886)

The Green Parrot

Nary a moment inside of the door
Not given time to hang my outer coat
The eager green parrot says ‘give me more’
Never to fail for it is merely rote

The cracker is my ticket to enter
This place filled with much love and happiness
But not a place of incessant banter
A place to share my love which is endless

To taste her red velvet lips I implore
If to wait I shall certainly explode
The softness of her body to explore
Every ounce of her love to be swallowed

Hotly caressing the one I adore
Heard the parrot kept saying ‘give me more’

 

Grasshopper, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

GrasshopperOlive Trees, Vincent van Gogh (1889)

Grasshopper

It’s a hot summer night, I see the moon
Placing its glow on leaves of olive trees
All is alive in the shadows of June
It is good to feel the slow moving breeze

Standing bare before the bedroom window
Breathing in rose scent in the evening air
Listening to tiny creatures below
Grasshopper coaxing mate into his lair

Felt a meaningful grip upon my hips
Sensing desire to materialize
Turning to meet her parted agile lips
Her message is clear as her striking eyes

The grasshopper makes music with his legs
Soon there’ll be bountiful grasshopper eggs

 

The Eve of Saint Agnes, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

The Eve of Saint AgnesThe Eve of Saint Agnes, John Everett Millais (1863)

The Eve of Saint Agnes

This is the evening before Saint Agnes’ feast,
The night’s dream when your true love will appear.
Should the rules be followed down to the least,
Eyes looking to heaven with body clear.
Entering her chamber her breath increased,
In her hungry heart she carried some fear.
Will it be the one she’s loved from the start,
Or some stranger with a cold empty heart.

Lemon moon shines beyond her window pane,
Falls on her face showing she’s without sleep.
Anguish in her mind creating great pain,
Soon with heavy eyes darkness she did reap.
Awakened, wondering if this be feign,
His lips on hers, knows this is love to keep.
She motioned that he should enter her bed,
Their passion displayed as the color red.

 

Broken Vows, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

Broken VowsBroken Vows, Philip Hermogenes Calderon (1856)

Broken Vows

Without seeing, feel love no longer true
His touch not now as it was at the start
Feeling grieving black, not bright sunny blue
The aching pain, crushing my bleeding heart

Needing to know, one day followed his path
Much laughter each enjoying the folly
Would it be correct to display my wrath
Thinking my character it would sully

Without showing anger called him a rake
Said that within me there remains a glow
Asked if what he’s doing be a mistake
His answer being that he did not know

Once felt we were one, now we are apart
Hoping to overcome a broken heart