A Stroll on the Beach, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

A stroll on the beachA Stroll on the Beach, Michael Peter Ancher (1896)

A Stroll on the Beach

Sea as quiet as can possibly be,
Listening but wind so still can’t be heard,
Nor the many birds which hover the sea,
Amongst us barely was spoken a word.

The still brought a quietness to each heart.
Ever so thankful to share cherished time.
Knowing at next sunrise we all must part.
This captured precious moment so sublime.

This best of time knows no special season.
To see and to touch is ample enough,
Beyond this need not another reason.
All are silent as parting will be tough.

Sharing deep friendship is beyond compare,
Once again together is their prayer.

Sunset, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

SunsetImage manipulated by author

Sunset

At the water’s edge they lovingly stay
Slow sinking sky starts silently to bleed
The beginning of the end of this day
Few more hours to stay, they anxiously plead

Now the fire in the sky totally red
Their yearning hearts become melancholy
This is the part daily drama they dread
Darkness envelops their radiant sea

Neither hurrying to move from their chairs
Taking their time the day to reminisce
Softly smiling, sharing each other’s stares
Each giving the other a loving kiss

In the lemon moonlight their chairs they fold
For them this routine never to get old

Wasteland, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

Wasteland

Wasteland

Herds of clouds travel by at sonic speed
Appearing to have meetings to attend
Never looking down at my drastic need
Lacking pity not a tear to expend

Once my fields produced many bumper crops
Filling the air with my sweet summer wheat
Now a flat arid brown mosaic corpse
Giving absolutely nothing to eat

Every living creature has moved away
Land lays barren totally depleted
As I had become greedy farmers’ prey
Alone now knowing that I was cheated

Will take generations my soil to heal
Then new farmers will come again to steal

Thirst, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

ThirstThirst, William-Adolphe Bouguereau (1886)

Thirst

My mind tells me that I constantly thirst
To village water well I do travel
I drink and drink until ready to burst
With a mind which begins to unravel

Leather faced man did ask why so perplex
To the message receiving from my mind
Quickly offered the reason for my vex
It is not water that I need to find.

You eagerly thirst for love and knowledge
Without them you are a beast of burden
Seek them and be removed from your bondage
Ignorance keeps you behind the curtain

World is an exciting place to explore,
All needed is will to open the door.

Empty Chair, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

Empty ChairSovekammer, Vilhelm Hammershøi (1890)

Empty Chair

Why is there an empty chair by the bed
Is there more than what’s already been said
Of some awful thought which most surely dread
The fact that someone is really dead

Does not matter big or small, short or tall
But sooner or later we all must fall
Each will wear once the paltry saintly pall
While the lofty choir sings a pastoral

None should be eager for that final day
But live life in the best possible way
Dividing your time between love and play
Yet never praying forever to stay

Best that we can ask is our lives be good
Lives are temporary is understood

Biology, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

BiologyFrog, Jacob de Gheyn(c. 1600)

Biology

Look at them all in the gigantic jar.
With pair of tongs easily took one out.
This one will not be going very far.
Learning what dissecting is all about.

Scalpel, tweezers and pins all that’s needed.
To each green lifeless frog students were paired.
Blonde hair and blues eyes across was seated.
Was not at frog that I frequently stared.

Obvious she wants no part of this task.
Made the first cut, she handed me a pin.
What are you doing Friday thought to ask.
She winks and provides a big sheepish grin.

Next semester it is anatomy
Praying that she again is paired with me.

Woman in an Armchair, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

Woman in an ArmchairWoman in an Armchair, Pierre-Auguste Renoir (1874)

Woman in an Armchair

Emerald eyes darting from the armchair
With strong resolute not to give an inch
Obvious hers not a casual stare
Holding her steady refusing to flinch

Arms stiffly crossed as if they were sabers
Head cocked showing her pistol is loaded
Ready to attack like barroom brawlers
Flowery words she hears makes her acrid

Might try to forgive if were words of truth
But what she fears is more duplicity
She does not need be the world’s greatest sleuth
To grasp the result of this travesty

A woman can always trust her own nose
Scent of another on her lover’s clothes