Autumn’s Fool, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

Autumn’s Fool

The tired falling leaves, of the tilted birch
Flutter like the wings, of a butterfly
Each frantically, for a place they search
A soft place, to lie for they know they die

It is solemn reminder, that I too
Need to be prepared, for my final day
As to its coming, I have not a clue
And for that restive day, I have no say

But as the birch, for the spring I will wait
Will fight with my every breath, winter’s chill
No more will I fear, the locked pearly gate
Smiling, I’ll hunt, for the first daffodil

For as I make an attempt at reason
Why this is to be my final season

Jealousy, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

Jealousy-1913Jealousy, Edvard Munch (1913)

Jealousy

A fit of rage has come over me
What is going on I can see
It is here before my very eyes
Of course she would deny
That she flirts with another guy

Look at the smirk on his face
In her heart me he wants to replace
What is it that makes me shake
Is it anger or is it fear
When he and she are so near

Did I not win her with my charm
Now she does me mental harm
Turning into a timid little mouse
Feeling sickly and insecure
Not knowing if I can endure

Here I languish as a fool
My courage now minuscule
Confused without confidence
In this hell I will always be
For I am a victim of my jealousy