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

 

Sea Calling Me, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

Sea Calling MeImage manipulated by author

Sea Calling Me

In quiet stillness I observe the hue
Of the mighty endless sea before me
Sweeping eyes drinking the depth of her blue
With desire to be consumed by this sea

I’ve visited her countless times before
She always seems to appeal to me more
Calling me with gentleness of her shore
Her soft tender loving clutch I adore

I am naked to all of her power
Still shy, with my toes I touch her azure
Her wave coaxes me a little closer
Now I am totally consumed by her

Joy as she touches every part that be
She gives me a feeling of being free

 

Barn, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

BarnAllensville Hay Press Barn, Switzerland County, Gwen Gutwein (2008)

Barn

Its many boards of gray are on display.
Their opened grain bear the signs of aged pain.
From their perfect centers did move away.
Long gone are the days of its mighty reign.

Shows no mighty power to right itself,
Relying totally on my pity.
Knowing each board makes for a proper shelf,
Adding many dollars to my kitty.

Once inside I could feel its unique scent,
Wondering where all those memories went.
Where I day upon day happily spent,
Lingering has changed my early intent.

I’d better go and fetch the proper crane,
As this is where this creature shall remain.

 

Autumn by the River, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

Autumn by the riverAutumn, Emilio Sánchez Perrier (c. 1900)

Autumn by the River

Song birds of the trees have made their retreat
Cool winds of autumn chased summer away
Colors of the quiet land now blasé
Busy fields in summer are not deplete

Paces of the past are now slowing down
Giving moments of pure quiet pleasure
Thinking of the silos filled with treasure
Waiting arrival winter’s bridal gown

Cataloging thoughts at the river’s edge
Reminiscing the joys that came my way
In mind the desire to ensure they stay
Seeking more in the future is my pledge

Studying the river as it goes by
It is my life passing by that I see
Message is always busy I must be
Like plants I will eventually die

 

 

 

Snow Scene, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

Henry Alexander, Snow Scene through a Winter Window, 1870.Snow Scene through a Winter Window, Henry Alexander (1870)

Snow Scene

Under blankets, another frigid night
Could feel aching chill in my weary bones
Feared what horror there would be my first sight
Feeling confident would be many moans

Looking through button holes, saw the bright white
Tired of the piling up of winter’s snow
This freezing matter is no longer trite
Miserable stuff really must go

A death row prisoner is what I am
Give me my last meal and be done with it
Never have been fan of winter’s program
Ever bored of doing nothing but sit

For the joy of spring I hunger and thirst
Can I survive, it’s but November first

 

Windy Knob, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

Windy KnobWindy Knob, Greg Sieczkiewicz (2018)

Windy Knob, Robert A Sieczkiewicz

Night is now being chased into the past
No signs of hurry to get underway
Tis a time I wish would forever last
Calmness allows my mind to slowly stray

Pure is my vision of new fallen snow
Landscape of white uncomplicated sight
At ease staring at its unsullied glow
Providing no reason to be contrite

Reality tells this moment won’t last
The sun shall slip higher into the sky
Pairs of eyes of many will be amassed
With their loving kisses they shall not shy

Life at Windy Knob is sight to behold
With children untrammeled out in the cold