Autumn Leaves, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

Autumn LeavesAutumn Leaves, John Everett Millais (1856)

Autumn Leaves

Autumn a time of change and gathering
When the days are warm and the nights have bite
The sun’s bright time with us now lessening
And feathered sometime friends are taking flight

Time for gathering shaded fallen leaves
An attempt to make the fields appear clean
Huddling around the pyre everyone grieves
Praying that their souls shall now be pristine

Persephone ate pomegranate seeds
Now into the great darkness she descends
So will all not accounting for misdeeds
No better time than now to make amends

Autumn we move into the barns our wealth
And time to consider our moral health

 

Daffodils, a Tanka poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

DaffodilsPicking Daffodils, William Banks Fortescue

Daffodils

Among daffodils
Spring now fills my every breath
Resting on my back
Viewing vastness of the sky
Cotton candy floating by

Tea Leaves, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

Tea LeavesTea Leaves, Edward McGregor Paxton (1909)

Tea Leaves

The cup a symbol of her life, empty
She seeks someone deeper than just a friend
Always ever eager to down her tea
To find whatever new news leaves may send

Soon to be without a new tea to seek
Been told Earl Grey provides desired news
Swirled her cup the proper times, afraid to peek
Thinks be better to visit the church pews

Each Sunday she prayed as hard as she could
Not bashful to ask to become a wife
Wondered if her message misunderstood
Was she to be single all of her life

Sunday last felt a tap on her shoulder
Gentleman asked “could you slide over please”
After prayer she could not be bolder
No longer will she be reading tea leaves

 

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

 

Precious Keepsake, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

Precious ObjectPrecious Keepsake, Federico Andreotti (n.d.)

Precious Keepsake

His mind and body are agedly weak
Yet each day eagerly tends to his sheep
Each night takes a precious box to his seat
And rocks in rhythm until he falls asleep
The key to the box hangs around his neck
Not known the last when it was in the lock
Years passed since anyone bothers to check
For his only company is his flock

Is he an old miser hoarding his gold
To him can there be something more precious
His lips tight as a clam and never told
People of the past asked and left anxious
He is now dead leaving me box and key
Nothing included on how to dispose
In my rocker with box upon my knee
Key in hand listening to his echoes

 

Endless Sea, a Tanka poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

May 2nd is the anniversary of the death of the Russian painter  Ivan Aivazovsky.  Most of his paintings were about the sea.  His most prominent being The Ninth Wave which I have used  here previously to accompany one of my poems.  For more info on him click here.

On this day, May 2nd I honor this painter who I think had an amazing skill in my first ever Tanka poem.

Endless SeaAmong the Waves, Ivan Aivazovsky (1898)

Endless Sea

Me the endless sea
Let me soon absorb your all
Setting your mind free
Ridding pain both big and small
Your new life shall be in me

 

 

 

 

Leaf on a River, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

Leaf on a RiverRiver Study, J Laurence Hart (n.d.)

Leaf on a River

My heart as a leaf flows with the river
No port of call is currently listed
Nor stopping to be a solemn griever
River doesn’t yield, heart cannot be bided

Know not where or when the river will end
Heart was once green now a sullen yellow
Never made a choice of lover or friend
Can’t remember ever being a foe

This water journey thought to be unique
Soon found that countless millions are alike
With nothing of great importance to speak
Nor a vein of richness ever to strike

Who determines what someone’s life is worth
Should we be celebrating any birth