Gentle Wind, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

Gentle Wind

The wind is a bus
Going here then there
Carries limitless
Things of many shapes.
Plastic shopping bags
Soon to be snagged
By the naked trees.
Fallen autumn leaves
Doing somersaults
Down the barren path.
Dandelion seeds
Like little balloons
Up to touch the sky.
And what of those clouds
That bring needed rain
Or hide the bright sun.
But the greatest joys
That the bus does bring
Are those we can’t see:
The scent of fresh baked
Apple pie cooling
On the window sill,
The soft wavering
Coming from the field
Of gold colored hay.
But greatest of all
After summer’s rain
The slow flowing scent
Of sweet lavender.
It is my desire
The bus to idle
And stay awhile.

Ephemerality, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

Ephemerality
Wispy cirrus clouds of height whisking by,
While countless diamonds dance on the water,
And swallows do somersaults in the sky.
Like children there is a constant banter.
Sitting in the cool comfort of the shade,
Quiet as a lion stalking its prey,
I wait for the fawns and does to invade,
To drink the water, but long they’ll not stay.
The wonders of this day soon to depart,
To return only as a memory,
Bringing subtle warmth to my beating heart.
Tis my wish these memories never flee.

On the Boardwalk, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

On the Boardwalk

She stands there staring motionless,
As a mannequin in the store.
The wind blowing against her dress,
Her hair like waves against the shore.

Her neck is fully stretched upward,
With her softness shown to the sun,
While her lips formed to say a word,
An expression without burden.

Wondering if she is aware,
That I stare at her pensively,
Or maybe she does but doesn’t care,
That I’m drinking in her beauty.

More intoxicating than wine,
Making my mind begin to sway.
Deep in dreams that she could be mine,
But she smiles, turns and walks away.

Such a gutless buffoon am I!
Nothing but a straw filled lion,
Lacking courage to even try.
This is why my life’s so barren!

Spring Landscape, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

Spring Landscape

Outside the window
Is a dissimilar world
Of white and tense gray.
Absent the sun’s warming glow
The tired snow remains unfurled.
Waiting and wanting
For the water to set free
As it is now spring.
Many colors will it bring
And will put leaves on each tree.
Every day I watch
Praying for the warmth to come
Quickly to my place
So I do not see a swatch.
To see the ground will be awesome.
My drab winter coat
Is now stored in the closet.
The sky is bright blue.
Out of storage comes the boat
There is music in my strut.

Under the Tree, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

Under the tree

There will come a time
When I shall no longer be.
No more than
Food for the waiting tree.

In so little time
I shall be but a memory.
Fading ever quickly
As the winter’s sun.

Hear the tick of time
Rushing into the future
With so little regard
To the call of a beggar.

Love has little time
To deliver its tender touch.
One to last forever
From her I love so much.

From death there’s no retreat
Yet I shall return
As a scented flower
That grows under the tree.

A Magic Place, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

A Magic Place

A stillness flows over the open land
A blanket, the sky is my quiet shield
The ocean rolls softly toward the sand
Powers of this setting sun is revealed

Stretching out attempting to catch its rays
Letting them fall softly upon my hand
Wonderful feelings, always to amaze
Overcome by this sight so still I stand

Watching the horizon as colors spread
The big ball of fire is distinctly white
Crowned in yellow fading to orange-red
Giving my heart such a delightful sight

Until total darkness I’ll hold this place
With the feeling this land is full of grace

My Winter Plan, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

My Winter Plan

It’s a very special time of the year
Time for developing a winter plan
Freezing temperatures shall soon be here
Forget about working on your suntan

The sun is now shortening her workday
Instead of bright green I see dull yellow
Many a bird has chosen not to stay
Instead flying away before the snow

There’ll be visits of the polar vortex
With vehicles preferring not to move
While their drivers suffer from the effects
This turmoil and trouble I don’t approve

My plan is quite simple to understand
Tickets purchased to palm trees and white sand