Final Request, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

Final RequestOld History, Alexander Jakesch, (1892)

Final Request

In the slender box it is dark as coal
No longer the touch of a loving kiss
All that remains is a wondering soul
Of a body who some surely to miss

Why intense sadness in your beating hearts
Bringing some to their shaking weakened knees
Is it special forgiveness it imparts
Or support for your self-indulgent pleas

When I’m finally gone please do not mourn
Just know that I have loved ever dearly
Let your weeping heart not be deeply torn
My request is that you take it boldly

Let there be great joy that our lives did cross
Think my life a treasure, not as a loss

 

Tears, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

RainRain, Ivan Ivanovich Endogurov (c. 1900)

Tears

A cold dismal wind blows from the north-east
History has told me that it meant rain
Or dark dreary devilish day the least
Giving many a reason to complain

Stood at the open back door for awhile
Feeling each gray drop land upon my face
The constant pummeling soon made me smile
Firmly grabbing the door jamb for my brace

Thinking I’m the fool getting soaking wet
By now my clothes beaten against my skin
Illness could possibly be a grave threat
Laughing now, all my clothes I did unpin

Rushed outside with head up to drink the tears
Felt good as they washed away all my fears

 

The First Nail, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

The First NailImage manipulated by author

First Nail

Blood, sweat and dust mixes upon my head
Now at the demonic place of the skull
Soiled and tattered robe swiftly made to shed
Knocked to the hardened ground, there is a lull

The rope around my wrist and tree is tight
Is readying me for what is to pass
Point joggled and pressed between bones till right
With swift arc, action sounds like broken glass

Adrenaline rush due to the unknown
Then my scream from excruciating pain
For every heart beat comes a wincing groan
As my precious blood falls upon the plain

Father in Heaven Your will, will be done
Three days now I wait for the morning sun

Fuchsia, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

FuchsiaYoung Pensive Woman Turned to the Left, Edgar Maxence (1900)

Fuchsia

Dare not interrupt your reflective thought
But wondering where is it you may be
Is it a deeply felt love gone for naught
Or in distant land beyond mighty sea

To me your choice to be another place
Could be easily taken by trade winds
Where dangling fuchsia every garden lace
Afar land of dreams which no one rescinds

Have traveled to place of exotic dreams
Palm trees sway softly in time with the waves
Clear water filling silent moving streams
With endless beauty your heart it enslaves

Advice I give, book passage right away
If it is love you seek, waste not a day

 

The Green Parrot, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

The Green ParrotThe Green Parrot, Vincent Van Gogh (1886)

The Green Parrot

Nary a moment inside of the door
Not given time to hang my outer coat
The eager green parrot says ‘give me more’
Never to fail for it is merely rote

The cracker is my ticket to enter
This place filled with much love and happiness
But not a place of incessant banter
A place to share my love which is endless

To taste her red velvet lips I implore
If to wait I shall certainly explode
The softness of her body to explore
Every ounce of her love to be swallowed

Hotly caressing the one I adore
Heard the parrot kept saying ‘give me more’