Her Hand II, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

Her Hand II

Her hot hand deftly slides across my thigh
While limber fingers did a spider’s crawl
My heart reached a red rich blood cosmic high
Every inch of me she begins to maul

That she’s on a mission can’t be denied
Her broad defiant smile left me helpless
Unable to move even if I tried
To conquer my flesh she is relentless

By the spell of a black widow spider
Ever slowly I slide into my fate
Of a fully paralyzing rapture
There is no desire for it to abate

Next to my quiet steaming corpse she lies
Like a hunter in pictures with her prize

Image credit:

https://www.theguardian.com/artanddesign/2016/jun/20/artists-selected-john-moore-painting-prize-shortlist-unveiled

Special Note:

Yesterday I presented a triolet and today a sonnet. Again I ask you choose between the two. Which is your favorite? Please comment which you chose and tell me why. Looking forward to your thoughts.

Her Hand, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

Her Hand

Her hot hand slid across my thigh
While fingers did a spider’s crawl
My breath reached a dangerous high

Her hot hand slid across my thigh
She’s on a mission can’t deny
Like an angler begins to trawl

Her hot hand slid across my thigh
While fingers did a spider’s crawl

Image credit:

https://www.newsbreak.com/news/0OIWGzbs/dear-therapist-my-wifes-sister-came-on-to-me

Special note:

Tomorrow I will post a second version of the single idea. Please read both and comment. Select the one you prefer and it is your choice. Until tomorrow

There’s No Greater Love, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

There’s No Greater Love

The beauty of your smile let me ingest
Let it wallow ever deep within me
As to put my feelings softly at rest.


Speak those velvety words I love to hear
Ones that draw me ever closer to you
As they flow rhythmically in my ear.


Caress me gently at your warming breast
That my heart may float so effortlessly
While I offer to you my next request.


Let us make love under the many stars,
Our passion greater than Venus and Mars.

Image credit

https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Hans_Mont,_Mars_and_Venus,_1580,_Bronze,_The_J._Paul_Getty_Museum,_Los_Angeles.jpg

Almond Blossoms, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

Almond Blossoms

The battles rage between winter and spring
With reckless northern winds and freezing rain
While the robin redbreasts begin to sing
And naked human skin fair game for pain

In the congested grove filled with white balls
Holding on to every branch of the tree
Fearlessly fights off winter’s final squalls
Knowing spring’s gentle warmth will set them free

Soon to be countless opened loving cups
Filled with buttery honey-like vapor
For days on end there will be no letups
As armies of honey bees collect myrrh

The scent of the almond blossoms abound
Sad their petals soon to be on the ground

Image credit:

https://www.vangoghmuseum.nl/en/collection/s0176V1962?v=1

Tears of the Tulip, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

Tears of the Tulip

Morning comes with marbled remorse
The once pure white head now falters
From its bed is soon to divorce

Morning comes with marbled remorse
Its gentle softness becomes coarse
The white tulip’s beauty now blurs

Morning comes with marbled remorse
The once pure white head now falters

Image credit

https://nature.desktopnexus.com/get/1826904/?t=915b3rckkbhao2uq5c9r8husi55ec6919499816