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

Full Moon and Wind, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

Full Moon and Wind

The wind like a sweeping broom
Wish, swish, rattling every dish
Providing sounds of looming doom
Clouds so fearful begin to weep
What object to overcome such gloom?
Every given answer is “Not I.”
Even the voices from the tomb
Yield for fear to be exhumed
Through the day all stayed at bay
Allowing the wind to have its way
Finally comes the end of day
Now above their many heads
They take notice of the full moon
Gleaming bright with a silly grin
Taking control of what’s below
Giving an eye to the nasty wind
Which falls softly as a lamb
All is quiet in this night
It is now time under the covers
That all heads shall be out of sight

Summer Rain, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

Summer Rain

Many clouds made a sky of solid gray
Lightening of purple followed by drums
Not letting into the back yard to play
On the porch wondering if the sun comes

Both of us rock away, just she and I
Chitter, shatter, of many useless things
While we look for some monsters in the sky
She steadily rocks in Polish she sings

Both of us rock away, just she and I
Listening to the wind in the pear trees
She now sings my favorite lullaby
In unison with the late summer breeze

Both of us rock away, just she and I
Without ever stopping we laugh aloud
Caused by a silly breeze who was not shy
Came toward us with water well endowed

Now it’s but I who rock away alone
She is gone, gone for oh so many years
Feel she watches over me from her throne
In the summer rains I shed many tears

John Street, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

John Street

The ice cold steel chains
Across the white blanket strains
To clear level paths
The monster with angry growl
And its language pretty foul
Rusty dual stacks
Puffing clouds of grays and blacks
Refusing to yield
The red monster makes its way
Pushing ahead not to stray
Flakes of white scatter
Recklessly from where they were
Soon to be corralled
The plow making dunes of white
Mittens wave with much delight
Towing my wood sled
It sheds rust moving ahead
John Street is our goal
It’s a mountain of a hill
Sure to give me quite a thrill
My feet used to steer
Showing not a bit of fear
Over the hill’s crest
There will be no stopping now
Speeding down I scream a wow
The ride is over
Wishing it was much longer
Looking up to see
The distance I have traveled
A smile for I am baffled
Life is like my ride
As did my sled time did slide
The sun is setting
It’s time to be heading home
Of this ride shall not bemoan