Dagny and Edvard, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

Dagny and EdvardDagny Juel Przybyszewska, Edvard Munch (1893)

Dagny and Edvard

Ever so softly on that purple night,
At the end of the most perfect rainbow.
Her smile provided all the needed light,
For him to see a face of long ago.

Seems like forever that she shared his bed,
But not long since the last time in his mind.
Noting the last words she hauntingly said,
Since that darkened daunting day he has pined.

His brush has actively pursued her face,
A statement that he continued to care,
Yet she would not again be in his grace.
His heavy heart no longer could she snare.

She stands so still at the reach of his hand,
As would a model not moving her head.
He touched her glowing face which fell as sand.
The day is here. The day he knew he’d dread!

 

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Dagny Juel had a spirit she could not control. Her life ended way to early.  Just four days before her thirty-fourth birthday she was shot and killed by her crazed last lover.

Dagny Photo

Dare Not Open My Eyes, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

Dare Not Open My Eyes

 

Dared Not Open My Eyes

The morning mystic maze of memories
Float as fog softly across calm waters
In the recesses of my laggard mind
Taking a form of silent silhouettes

There was me, there was she, stepping forward
(Such a rush, I dared not open my eyes)
Into the room, the door closed behind us
I turn to her, she turns to me slowly

I looked into her eyes, she looked in mine
We were frozen for a moment in time
While our hearts were sharing loving feelings
I leaned into her, she leaned into me

Such a rush, I dared not open my eyes
Her static energy fully absorbed
As if I were a naked lightning rod
Causing this burning heart to hesitate

Such a rush, I dared not open my eyes
Grabbing my chest, was it death I was near
For how could being in love cause such pain
Was this just a dream or a memory?

 

Tender Age, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

Tender AgeChoosing, George Frederic Watts (c. 1864)

Tender Age, Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

My dearest friend with thou beautiful scent
Surround my body so I find safety
From my great fear of mental punishment
Please think not this to be a foolish plea

But a child with such a limited view
Thinking life be like my part on the stage
To discover life’s dreams not to be true
Real is what I feel, internal rage

Sheltered within thy vine with many thorns
Can be shielded from a touch that I scorn
Thou now can protect this young heart that mourns
Today wishing that I had not been born

Can there be love at such a tender age
Or is it to be acted on the stage