Evening, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

EveningEvening, Edvard Munch (1888)

Evening

A time between the bright heat of the sun
And the cool darkened shadows of the moon
A time to consider what has been done
And what’s to be accomplished very soon

It is not a time for melancholy
Nor to be consumed by fanciful dreams
As both will lead to dangerous folly
Creating vicious pain from mental screams

Evening is not a time to hesitate
For the eyes will begin to get heavy
The mind soon unable to contemplate
Important to plan the future wisely

Besotted, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

BesottedDouble portrait, Oskar Kokoschka (c. 1912)

Besotted

She moves her body with hypnotic grace.
Euphonious words does she softly sing.
A smitten smile she wears upon her face.
My heart has been struck by scorpion sting.

Turning to me, offers her silken hand,
Kissed, looking into her ravenous eyes,
Of my every thought she took full command.
Her Siren’s song firmly sealed my demise.

As butter on a sunny window sill,
With her every carnal touch I did melt.
Thinking, it is me she shall surely kill.
Yet, better I have never before felt.

Many a friend claims that I besotted,
Was when I met her that this all started.

Alma and Oskar, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

Alma and Oskar-GrayAlma and Oskar, Oskar Kokoschka (1913)

Alma and Oskar

There is not a tree with forbidden fruit,
Nor compelling compact we have to sign.
There will be no Satyr playing a flute,
Nor a reason for having to repine.

Just you and I in this our paradise.
Freely bending to the other’s desire,
Without thought of making a sacrifice,
While quenching a burning internal fire.

Stripped of all our frail human modesty,
We explore each other with boundless lust.
We bind together ever so brashly.
Such pleasure without being larcenist.

Our thirst for each other being so vast,
We ask these wondrous feelings always last.

The Tempest, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

The TempestThe Tempest, Oskar Kokoschka (c.1914)

The Tempest

In the cruel bleak darkness of the night,
I engaged her in a loving embrace.
Hearing a deadly sound causing great fright,
My troubled tense heart did achingly race.

The wind howls with a mean temperament,
Devouring everything within its sight.
To ensnare us the wind would not relent,
Consuming our bodies with vicious spite.

Holding her tightly as we whirled around,
Dreading I may soon lose her to the wind.
She was motionless not making a sound,
While the eye of the tempest meanly grinned.

Awakening in a feverish sweat,
Not even hearing a single whisper.
Seeing a sight I shall never forget,
Alone in bed without a trace of her.

To My Quiet Place I Go, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

To My Quiet Place I Go

To My Quiet Place I Go

Diamond dust sits upon the sleeping grass,
Soon to be a sight of this morning’s past.
On the pond lies a thin layer of glass,
Like the sparkling dust it too will not last,
For I see the sun peering through the trees.
Its gentle warmth meeting my morning face.
As if in a game providing a tease,
Darting about as I walk to my place,
Where I go to find my internal peace.
I travel far in my very short walk.
Tensions burning inside soon to release.
So quiet I am not required to talk.
The only sound I am able to hear,
Is the rustling of leaves beneath my feet.
To my special spot I am getting near.
Isolated, there is no one to greet.
Sitting in deep silence I start to write,
A wild river of thoughts runs in my head,
Bringing on a smile so vividly bright.
Here it’d be wonderful to make my bed.
In nature’s stillness is such great reward,
Its scent of pure earthiness clears the mind.
Without bell or light offers such delight,
Does not portend of a dark daily grind.
Oh! So happy to accept its invite.

Love or Loneliness, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

Two Human BeingsTwo Human Beings, Edvard Munch (1896)

Love or Loneliness

Which am I to choose?
Each providing great rewards.
Either way I lose!

If love be my fate,
I must share with another.
All else needs to wait!

If art is my life,
My mind free to ever roam.
Loneliness is rife!

Both have equal urge.
Love and art can’t coexist.
One I must now purge!

Art to be my choice.
Love can be ephemeral,
While art gives me voice!

A Vow to Love, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

A Vow to LoveA Vow to Love, Jean-Honoré Fragonard (c. 1780)

A Vow to Love

Like the wave that crashes against the rock,
Shattered in uncountable directions,
My heart is destroyed by the crushing shock.
Motionless and dark as ocean canyons.

Questioning how this could really be,
This painful loneliness that churns inside,
Has unmercifully enveloped me.
All feelings fled with the outgoing tide.

My heart is floating on the endless sea,
Being tossed about by the ceaseless wind.
A bottle that is lifeless and empty,
Savagely from a love it is exscind.

Will I and my lost heart soon reunite,
Pumping blood at such a furious pace,
Feeding the roaring fire that did ignite,
And to help me, loneliness to erase.

A vow to love I shall willingly make,
Never again to follow foolish pride,
That can only cause another heartache.
It is but love that I want at my side.