Tag Archives: Nature

Strolling in a Wooded Landscape

Mills A A- Man Strolling in a Wooded LandscapeA.A. Mills, Man Strolling in a Wooded Landscape (c. 1850)

Man Strolling in a Wooded Landscape, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

Life as in Death is forev’r waiting to see,
Nev’r really knowing what is to be.
Stopping to think is this really me,
Will there ev’r be an answer to my plea?

Am I living a dream within a dream?
Being honestly knowing what things seem?
Staring, wondering, is my life beseem,
Is it possible my soul to redeem?

Were I a mere ant scurrying onward,
Never able to speak a single word,
My inner most thoughts never to be heard,
Would I some sort of penalty incurred?

Shall my worth be measured by word or deed?
If deed, from this body I must be freed.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Buttercups, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

Buttercups

The ubiquitous yellow buttercup
Filling the warm summer’s rolling meadows
A welcoming for fervent honey bees
Hungrily gathering golden nectar
We let them do their work unmolested
While she and I search for our perfect ones

Laughing and giggling as little children
Searching acres for the one most shining
Knowing the special secret that they hold
The countless generations have been told
To place under someone special’s chin
Will show their unrevealed craving within

Image credit:

https://www.mnn.com/your-home/organic-farming-gardening/blogs/why-buttercups-have-glossy-petals

To My Quiet Place I Go, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

To My Quiet Place I Go

To My Quiet Place I Go

Diamond dust sits upon the sleeping grass,
Soon to be a sight of this morning’s past.
On the pond lies a thin layer of glass,
Like the sparkling dust it too will not last,
For I see the sun peering through the trees.
Its gentle warmth meeting my morning face.
As if in a game providing a tease,
Darting about as I walk to my place,
Where I go to find my internal peace.
I travel far in my very short walk.
Tensions burning inside soon to release.
So quiet I am not required to talk.
The only sound I am able to hear,
Is the rustling of leaves beneath my feet.
To my special spot I am getting near.
Isolated, there is no one to greet.
Sitting in deep silence I start to write,
A wild river of thoughts runs in my head,
Bringing on a smile so vividly bright.
Here it’d be wonderful to make my bed.
In nature’s stillness is such great reward,
Its scent of pure earthiness clears the mind.
Without bell or light offers such delight,
Does not portend of a dark daily grind.
Oh! So happy to accept its invite.

The Wonder of it All, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

The Wonder of it All

The Wonder of it All

The dragon flies with their gossamer wings
Sit motionless on their battle stations
Of Cat O Nine tails ready to assault

Bumble bees of many ready to join
Upon the lofty yellow snapdragons
As they only have strength the lids to lift

Hand in hand we so eagerly follow
The large bold fluttering orange monarch
Butterflies to our secret hideaway

Still a good distant away we could hear
The king lion’s roar at our objective
For it’s behind him will be great safety

Nearing we see his roar sending shock waves
Down the docile waters of the river
Making lotus blooms jostle each other

Our heated hearts pounding as we are here
We expose fully to the summer sun
And slide quickly behind the waterfall

Ceaseless Brook, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

Ceaseless BrookWild Asters, Dennis Miller Bunker (1889)

Ceaseless Brook

Beside me abundant wild asters grow
Each jostling for positions at the edge
Siphoning precious health from water’s flow
Making it perfectly pure as they dredge

Taken to my knees by invitation
Scooping clear freshness into my cupped hand
Put to my lips without hesitation
She is the center of this fertile land

Listening, searching for the slightest sound
Can hear melodic babble of the brook
Its helpful water darts across the ground
Adding pluses to my earthy outlook

A bunch of wild asters placed in my pack
Dried, will be a reminder to come back