First Jewels, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

First JewelsLes Premiers Bijoux, William-Adolphe Bouguereau (1891)

First Jewels

On the wings of a downy summer wind
A vision of heaven stood before me
Feeling as if to a tree I was pinned
Wondering if this could really be

If be with body put thy hand in mine
Her velvety softness now I did feel
She spoke to me in a voice so benign
Her mission was my empty heart to steal

Moving close to her my breath couldn’t expel
Her lips start in my heart a raging fire
‘Cause of her beauty I am under a spell
Now filled with uncontrollable desire

Without wealth what gift can I give to thee
I give my heart and the fruit of the cheery tree

 

The Visitors, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

The VisitorsLa Neige, Charles-François Daubigny (1873)

The Visitors

The snow’s cold whiteness creeps up to my door
While the melancholy sun bids farewell
Mystically crows swarm more than five score
There is an urgent message they must tell

Raising my shovel they will not scatter
With great fear I hold my quivering breath
It’s easy to understand their banter
These darkened creatures sing their song of death

Where summer they’d quietly steal my corn
Autumn barren fields provide easy prey
Not here to repay my gun’s bitter scorn
No they’re just here to say this is my day

Would prefer a single singing angel
Rather than this rowdy crowd of babel