Tag Archives: Death

Darkest of Dark

Darkest of Dark, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

Tonight apt to be the darkest of dark
She lies quietly in her bed of straw
On this night she shall not be a skylark
A struggle for every breath she does draw

Being friends since do not remember when
Moving my hand slowly across her head
Never to have such a friendship again
For this bleak darkness is my watershed

Stroking downward on her velvetiness
How her blackness shines in this shallow light
Memory makes me smile in this darkness
Fear never again shall we say good night

Only my lonely heartbeat do I hear
Tears for her shall fall for many a year


Tears of the Tulip, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

Tears of the Tulip

Morning comes with marbled remorse
The once pure white head now falters
From its bed is soon to divorce

Morning comes with marbled remorse
Its gentle softness becomes coarse
The white tulip’s beauty now blurs

Morning comes with marbled remorse
The once pure white head now falters

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Beware of Angels’ Tears, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

Beware of Angels’ Tears

A dark flat carpeting covered the sky
Without warning guns flashed ─ cannonballs flew
Such shaking ─ thought I was going to die
Overcome by a fear I never knew

Was like every angel started to cry
Feverish it was ─ was knocked to the ground
Thinking never again will I be dry
Then there was nothing ─ could not hear a sound

Looking upwards ─ there was no need to pray
The air was clear ─ all stood silently still
It appears today won’t be judgement day
But I was wrong ─ becoming ghostly ill

Those were really the tears of angels
Now they’re holding smiling devilish skulls

The Silent End, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

The Silent End

The clouds have devoured all the stars in sight
Such that I can feel the darkness of night
Against my clammy skin brings on great fear
For in the stillness sound I do not hear
Sought the expected safety of my home
Bolting the door felt I was not alone
Shaking from fever took on a great fright
My skin now turning to a deathly white
Quickly searched the contents of every room
Fearing this house shall ever be my tomb
What creature is it that I cannot see
Is it a ghost that takes my life from me
Falling helplessly to the frigid floor
All is now silent, a breath nevermore

Grandmother, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz


The carpet of demure colors was soft,
It deadened the sound of people’s voices.
The air was jungle thick, it made me cough.
To exit was not one of my choices.

Floral arrangements were both big and small.
Over powering was the lilies scent,
They like trumpeters guarding, standing tall.
Had a feeling Gabriel was present.

Before the open ornate box I knelt,
Thinking if I didn’t look it wasn’t real.
Turmoil, wasn’t really sure how I felt,
Immobile, to cry I was unable.

Whatever possessed me to touch her hand?
No longer soft, now it is hard and cold.
Looking at death I did not understand,
But that dark feeling I will always hold.