A Helping Hand, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

Como Mountains

A Helping Hand

Gory giants are rising from the sea
Is it their sole desire to devour me
Their grizzly actions I don’t comprehend
What so foolish did I do to offend

Is there any hope if they come ashore
I but a measly speck will be no more
For as King David I could never act
To push these Goliaths steadily back

As a coward I hide behind a tree
Prostrate praying that me they do not see
Their mighty roaring rumble do I feel
The deadly rattle of their swords of steel

As I shuttered my eyes all went quiet
Wondering if this is a mere respite
Do I dare to stand tall on my two feet
With no understanding what I may greet

Felt the gently warmth of the morning sun
With its intervention the battle won
Was it but a dream I will never know
But stretching, smiled, as I bask in its glow

Cupid and Psyche, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

Cupid and PsycheCupid and Psyche, Edvard Munch (1907)

Cupid and Psyche

Love, now be forewarned
My soul you shall not steal
Nor my mind to persuade

Love, you say to me
No desire to do harm
Though quiver full of charms

Love, you show to me
Bounty willing to pay
But to be only mine

Love, come no closer
I care not of your plea
Though I see that you bleed

Love, I plainly see
That in truth you have died
Wiping tears from my eyes

 

Snowbird, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

Snowbird

Snowbird

The view of the morning creates a chill
The golden leaves now brown fall to the ground
The lawn once green is now coated in white
The songbirds once plenty are out of sight
No music to stir not even a sound
No morning glories to give me a thrill

Like me the lazy sun gets up later
A crawling mosaic through naked limbs
Not making it above the trees ‘til lunch
The pond is blackened the koi in a bunch
No longer do the ducks chatter their hymns
From the bushes pokes a giant antler

Like the many geese I shall fly away
To a place known for abundant sunshine
Where the sugary sand tickles my toes
Where sunscreen always needed for my nose
Where in the evening outside we can dine
Where we watch the sunset as palm trees sway

Nude Sitting on the Beach, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

Sitting Nude by the BeachSitting Nude by the Beach, Edvard Munch (1898)

Sitting Nude by the Beach

Stripped myself of all earthly things
Never to yield to my old ways
Shall sink slowly into the sea
Washing away my many sins

The sins of my flesh did me wrong
Made me a slave of my desires
Thinking they’d set my body free
But it’s my mind that was enslaved

Spinning wild without any rules
Never a moment finding love
Only ephemeral pleasure
Leading to darkened loneliness

Now seek affection of the heart
That can provide internal warmth
It will be caring and sharing
By which I’ll finally be free

 

 

 

The Dancers, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

The DancersThe Dancers, Charles Turzak (c.1930s)

The Dancers

We are dancing a waltz
I moved ever so near
To smell her gold spun hair
So muted is its scent
It was the summer’s air
Moving even closer
My lips against her ear
So she could feel my breath
Closer was her response
As my tongue met her lobe
The band played steadily
But I heard not a note
For I was far above
In a warm misty cloud
No feet upon the floor
To the door she guided
My mind nearly consumed
For but one thing I think
Is have her totally
Knowing this isn’t a dream

Life’s Stream, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

Life's StreamWoman’s Head (detail), Leonardo da Vinci (c.1500)

Life’s Stream

I see on your eye the very first drop
The first one that is direct from your heart
Allow me be the one to make it stop
So never again will I let it start

Oh, what a fool, the one who made you cry
Ever so selfish in his nasty need
To deeply hurt you, I would rather die
Never letting  your loving heart to bleed

Come, find your quiet comfort in my arms
From my lips not a word to be spoken
I will protect you from all future harms
Our heart strings I shall lovingly fasten

Let your mind go into a pleasant dream
Of just you and I floating on life’s stream

To be a Butterfly, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

To be a ButterflyLa Scapigliata, Leonardo da Vinci (c.1508)

To be a Butterfly

She’s imprisoned by another’s decree
Not ever given the right to be free
To love one with passion as she would choose
At will, that special one, her heart to loose

Her every motion, now to be controlled
Even with her beauty, fully extolled
Her virtues placed upon the mantelpiece
No ladder to provide for her release

To say to another, she does belong
A horrid claim, is totally wrong
Is to imply another’s property
As is to stone her for adultery

It is best to secure her with your heart
If not, without revenge let her depart