The Raging Rapids, Peder Mork Mønsted (n.d.)
Ranging river flooded into my heart,
Suffocating, surely I will be drowned.
Its power so great to tear me apart,
Can this really be love that I found?
Kidnapped by aches and pains and nervous twitch,
Twisting and turning, can’t sleep in my bed.
Desire new feeling for which I may switch,
To rid me of this swirling in my head.
How I hunger but unable to eat,
Stomach tighter than a Gordian knot.
Shivering yet sweating from intense heat,
Visits to countless doctors are for naught.
If this be love, I know not what to do,
Should this be my reward for loving you?
Impressionism, Popcorn by the author
Allegory of Pop Corn, Robert A Sieczkiewicz
All the kernels were guaranteed I’m told
Not a reject to be found in the bunch
Everyone surely to be big and bold
Hurriedly took them home to try at lunch
Into the large skillet placed them so neat
Moved them around so each had its own space
All comfortable I turned up the heat
Will there be a winner in this big race
Was not long before there was sound of steam
Soon were popping like the sound of a gun
Moment of quiet then a final scream
Shut off the heat, thinking they will be done
The puffy ones I quickly threw them out
They are not the type I am looking for
None left in the skillet, was quite a rout
I will not go to the place as before
Il Povero Pescatore, Puvis de Chavannes (1881)
The Poor Fishman, Robert A Sieczkiewicz
The river so flat and still like dried paint.
Not sure if what I say is a complaint.
Father you know that I am not a saint,
But help the fish and me to reacquaint.
Today I say that my day shall be long,
Not returning here until the next dawn.
Yet during those hours I will sing your song,
Giving praise and praying that I stay strong.
The fish I pray for not only for me.
I think of my poor weakened family,
Healthy and strong I pray them all to be,
For it is in them my whole life I see.
To Saint Peter the fish You did help send,
It is on Your will that our lives depend.
Unknown Title and Painter
Precious Water, Robert A Sieczkiewicz
Went early to the well to get Thy water,
My day would be worthless without this drink.
Once received my spirit becomes brighter,
Heart engages the mind so I can think.
Looked about to see the others with me,
By my hand count there were only a few.
Like me were old nearly able to see.
Soon a young man came and water he drew.
From a common vessel we all did share,
To this water there’s nothing to compare.
Giving thanks our voices filled the clear air,
The sun acknowledged our morning prayer.
Where are the young who have strength we all ask?
Waiting ‘til they can’t do a simple task?
The Girl with Azalea, Vojtech Adalbert Hynais (1913)
New Love, Robert A Sieczkiewicz
A new found love should be put in a pot.
Tend to its every need right from the start.
It is fragile, best to forget it not.
Let that pot be made of your very heart.
Love between the two be equally true,
Then it shall in no time fully blossom,
The graces of love to both will accrue.
Attend with great care shall never succumb.
Through the years there will be many a tear,
Will be real love that helps conquer fear,
And to make the sunny days reappear,
With the desire to remain ever near.
For heart to grow love is its basic food,
That tingle of long past was its prelude.