Muse or Odalisque, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

Courbet Gustave -Jo the Beautiful Irish Girl (1866)

Jo, the Beautiful Irish Girl,  Gustave Courbet (1866)

 

Muse or Odalisque, Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

The mirror shows the color of my hair,
But silent on my internal despair.
O but wishing this piece of glass could care,
As my quandary has been a nightmare.

With two so distinct can my love I share?
What I ask is it a request so rare?
Understanding it be an odd affair,
Yet to cast aside one would be unfair.

To make a choice of one my heart I’d tear.
A love of both no issues to declare.
Am able to withstand the wretched stare.
When Whistler or Courbet call I’ll be there.

Such arrangements are not so very quare.
Is it novel to have wife and affair?

 

 

 

Romantic Landscape, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

Duncanson Robert- Romantic Landscape

Romantic Landscape, Robert Duncanson (c. 1860)

Romantic Landscape, Robert A Sieczkiewicz

Walking slowly in a familiar place,
The softness of green was nary a trace.
All around me flew at a hurried pace.
Unable to find a familiar face.

The hazy sky above was but a slice.
Gray tall buildings on each side made a vise.
Windows all brimming trying to entice.
Be assured this is not my paradise.

My soul hungers for a place more pleasing,
A land where clear water brooks are babbling,
Hills of lush green grass forever rolling,
And the big blue sky is never hiding.

In this tarred world is more than meets the eye,
Soon without sadness be saying goodbye.

The Day After, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

Munch Edvard-The Day After (c1895)The Day After, Edvard Munch (c. 1895)

The Day After, Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

Here am I laying idle on my bed,
Wond’r what is going on inside my head.
Should be up doing things I always dread.
Will lazily linger awhile instead.

Having real trouble with what I’ve read.
Extremely troubling thoughts it did embed.
Thinking that down the wrong path I am led.
Somehow very soon these thoughts I must shed.

Not logical for myself to behead.
Now I hold tightly to a single thread.
Is it true, to a fool I soon be wed?
Am I the fool listening to what is said?

Dangerous to heed the gossip they spread,
All of this talk has made my face blood-red.

 

 

 

By the River, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

Robinson Theodore-By_the_River (1887)

Theodore Robinson, By the River (1887)

By the River, Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

When I am fully grown what will I be?
Am I destined to be strong as this tree?
Of a mind in knowing that I am free?
And to hold strong passionate faith in Thee?

To be free as the river flowing by,
As the many birds that travel the sky.
This very request Thou should not deny,
For through baptism Thy support I rely.

Need to be free to follow in Thy name,
To let my heart be Thy eternal flame.
The young heart that Thou so early did claim,
Make me ready Thy holy words to proclaim.

To make me pure of heart and strong of mind,
So in my heart Thy name will be enshrined.

 

Lovers’ Moon, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

z-Unknown Artist - Lovers, c.1910

Unknown Artist, Lovers (c. 1910)

Lovers’ Moon, Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

So close to Cupid, fear we’re his target.
Come we shall take the staircase to heaven.
There memories made never to forget.
Lovers’ moon so bright will be our beacon.

If you be chilled, here take my loving heart,
Aflame of a resplendent love of you.
As you have neutralized every rampart,
Eagerly awaits your love to imbue.

Ask me not why I feel the way I do,
Very first sight of you love would ensue.
Such a feeling will always continue,
Admitting my love never to eschew.

Though tonight’s lovers’ moon is soon to set,
Its light on you face thoughts of when we met.

The Muse, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

z-Romney George-Lady_Hamilton_as_CirceGeorge Romney, Lady Hamilton as Circe (c. 1872)

The Muse, Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

Starring unfocused at empty paper.
If I be less than a scared cuttlefish,
Squirting ink into the unsafe water.
With absent thoughts ready to relinquish.

Magical words to sweep thee off thy feet,
Nowhere in my mindful search were they found.
Unfit of thy love to admit defeat.
Gridlocked mind must be hurriedly unbound.

Closed eyes thou stand vividly before me,
Beauty beyond that which graced to Circe.
To free this mind gladly pay the bounty,
But the cost is lost memory of thee.

This conundrum I am forever doomed,
A taste of thy love nev’r to be consumed.

 

The Ninth Wave, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

Hovhannes_Aivazovsky_-_The_Ninth_Wave_-_Google_Art_ProjectHovhannes Aivazasky, The Ninth Wave (1850)

The Ninth Wave, Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

What’s the reason we made it through the night?
We’re but a few of many on the crew,
Surviving grasp of the waves awesome might.
Was it simply fate, our time was not due?

Casting eyes about at each man’s station,
There be many levels from rich to poor.
Wondering if a common faith bastion,
Had a strange feeling but could not be sure.

In distant sky did appear a white light,
Thought it the sun but did not see its eye.
Whatev’r it be lifted hearts at its sight,
Giving a feeling we would not soon die.

It was His cross that provided support,
While His spirit guided us into port.