Johann Christian Dahl, A Cloud and Landscape Study by Moonlight (1822)
Clandestine Affair, Robert A. Sieczkiewicz
Above their heads the moon offered a smirk.
The fall wind an ugly message did send.
Assured are they in their clandestine work,
Sliding closer and closer at each bend.
The language of love both very fluent.
As the solid oak door was opened wide,
Coats carelessly flung off in an instant.
Now for magical moments here inside.
Fireplace and they were about to compete.
Her head tossed back caught the glorious light,
Here on in actions will be indiscreet.
Thank heaven for this libidinous night.
In their completeness they sat by the fire,
After having consumed all their desire.
Wintry Landscape with Frozen Water and Figure Statues, Johann Jungblut (c. 1900)
Winters Past, Robert A Sieczkiewicz
The glittering glow of winter’s first snow,
It is that time of year of so much cheer,
When Jack Frost puts on his seasonal show,
A time when we wish our love ones be near.
Is not a time to bundle up and hide.
Lights in each window to beckon with bliss.
Come in and sit awhile by the fireside,
Search for the mistletoe to get a kiss.
Turkey and toys, memories full of joy,
Sledding and skating for all of the day.
This is what I remember as a boy,
Now I see it in a different way.
Stress from hunger and pain are in full view.
Was it the same then I just never knew?
Golden Autumn, Slobodka, Isaac Levitan (1889)
Golden Autumn, Robert A Sieczkiewicz
Here I sit on the hill silent and still,
Peering off to the end with mind spawning.
Autumn, the soft wind gives its gentle chill,
Time not move this day for this I’m yearning.
Relive this year impossible I fear,
Yet many memories forever be.
No doubt this has been a wonderful year,
Having those I love so much, near to me.
The darkness of winter shall soon be here,
With many memories shant shed a tear.
Plentiful laughs and giggles fill my ear,
Held so close to my heart with much revere.
In autumn some work to collect the leaves,
For me it is time to store memories.
Frederick Childe Hassam, Late Afternoon, New York Winter (1900)
Late Afternoon, New York Winter, Robert A. Sieczkiewicz
The frozen aimless dust of pearly white,
Stings my naked face then quickly vanished.
Straining, squinting; trying to keep my sight.
My skin shines as if it has been varnished.
My numb dew-beaters now no longer known,
Departed somewhere near Twentieth Street.
Now these cat-sticks of mine begin to moan.
What I’d willingly give to feel some heat!
Those who think this is a beautiful sight,
Are under cover; each in their taxi,
With no compassion for my nasty plight.
For me this winter night there’ll be no glee!
Pray tell, when will the crocus start to grow?
Not soon enough to get rid of this snow!
Moonlight Seascape, Thomas Moran (1892)
Lovers Consumed by the Sea, Robert A. Sieczkiewicz
Amphitrite at the shore outward gazing.
Neptune moved stealthily and kissed her feet.
His touch of her so exhilarating,
She staring down sending a smile so sweet.
Music from the waves kept her in a trance,
Moves her body as if doing a dance.
No longer now giving the sea a glance,
Then came roaring a wave of great expanse.
Sea now became still so quiet it be,
Amphitrite now has returned to the sea.
Consumed for love by Neptune’s own decree,
As he was by the goddess’s own beauty.
The hypnotic sea with powering might,
Continues to draw lovers every night.
Wheat Fields, Jacob van Ruisdael (c. 1670)
More Friend than Foe, Robert A. Sieczkiewicz
Looking out to the sky you caught my eye,
Ominous for sure, you’re not at all shy.
Not the least caring if I live or die,
A very dangerous craft you do ply.
Be it your desire you can start a fire,
At the moment next cause it to expire.
Or in a single flash devour any spire,
And I for one will not provoke your ire.
All rather feel the gentler side of you.
You helping with our gardens to renew,
Not much caring if it be impromptu,
And pray your help will always continue.
Angering clouds can be distasteful pain,
But to wish departure would be insane.
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?