Stargazer and the Star, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

Stars fill the dark skies,
Yet there’s but one in my eyes.
Brighter than diamonds,
Is she, I wish to possess.
So far there’s been no success.

Seeing her I mourn.
My heart is savagely torn.
In my tears I drown,
Knowing she cannot be mine.
On her finger is a sign.

Repulse not I pray.
In my arms I ask she stay,
Yielding to her heart.
The love I carry so true,
If only she had a clue.

Will forever wait,
At eternity’s cold gate,
Though I be naked,
And when I have turned to dust,
My love to her will I trust.

For there cannot be,
Love greater than I of she.
My heart is but hers.
Shining brighter than the sun,
Love that’ll never be undone.

Orbiting a Star, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

Beyond the Cosmos, National Geographic

Orbiting a Star

The bright simmering golden summer sun,
Whose touch falls unfettered upon my skin,
Stares at me as if I’m the only one.
I return feelings by a joyous grin.

There’s a need to caress her with my arms,
To hold her closer than possibly be.
Beckoning me with her magnetic charms,
Knowing that she will be the death of me.

There is a choice to maintain my orbit,
With safety traveling at a distance,
As around her wrist, a bangle bracelet.
An asteroid I’ll be, doing penance!

Touching her fully quells a great desire!
Like an aged star I explode and expire!

Milk and Honey, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

Milk and Honey


With head ever still,
Listening for her heart’s trill,
Feeling its message.
Soft as downy are her breasts,
My mind now quietly rests.

Cradled in pure silk,
Her perfect whiteness of milk.
A scent of honey,
On her body I inhale,
It covers me like a veil.

Holding this moment,
If it could be permanent.
Branded in my heart!
But there’ll be thoughts to destroy,
This warming feeling of joy.

Here’s the Promised Land.
Not questioning love’s command.
More than my desire.
Feelings of being wanted,
When counted among the aged.

Arousal, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

Arousal

She touched me gently.
For a moment thought to flee!
Why I asked myself.
Her lips so soft on my skin,
Such a feeling felt within.

My heartbeat quickened,
As my breathing burgeoned.
I will soon explode!
The heat accelerated,
To the point my heart shattered.

Speechless, I am prone.
Above me as if a drone,
Scrutinizing all,
With a ravenous hunger,
She warns that I not bestir.

A sign she did send,
To a desire she must tend.
I do not resist!
For I too am now aroused,
There’s in me a hunger housed.

Love, I am your slave, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

Love, I am your slave.
No attempt my heart to save.
To cease dreams of her,
Where I’m always a beggar.
She not willing to barter.

I’ve promised my soul
To her, yet her heart is coal.
Darker than the night.
Could it be she is afraid,
What I give but a charade?

She does not listen.
My each advance she does shun,
But seeks her solace,
In the smiles I have to give.
Eager to hold me captive.

The sage shakes his head,
In caring of what I’ve said.
Won’t offer pity,
As my plight will not cause death,
But be pain with every breath.

Love can be a curse!
Its pain, there can be no worse!
Eternal sadness!
Impossible to undo,
Until death does call for you!

Silence, a thought of Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

After posting 524 poems to my blog, I will be going silent.  It is not for the lack of desire to write, but the painful misery inside my head.  For days I have tried to compose. Previously I have found that at times I could fight through the pain.  At this moment it is no longer possible. I hope the hiatus will be brief.

Cornfield, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

Cornfields and Crows, Vincent Van Gogh (1890)

                           Cornfield

The rolling, cooling air was moving in
Bringing with it grey cotton in the sky.
My body showing its October skin
Freckled, speckled sand and extremely dry.

Standing before me they command their ground
Soldiers by the thousand within my view.
Flaying and wailing cried a morbid sound
Be but one victor when the day is through.

Aggressively attacked the left, it’s war!
Superior power, mowing them down.
No, but before me appeared countless more.
Was steadfast, mowing down those stalks of brown.

Cleaned the tractor and all its cutting gear,
The cornfield now sleeps ’til early next year.