Two People, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

Two PeopleTwo People, Edvard Munch (1920)

Two People

It’s now the start of the bewitching hour
Two lonely hearts now coming together
Doing everything within their power
To give telling comfort to the other

Each with their own wholly consuming grief
Seeking respite within the other’s care
Understanding full well the time is brief
And no promise of the future to share

It is warmth which they share with every touch
In the other’s heat willingly embrace
Inwardly searching for something to clutch
That continues to be an endless chase

Confused are they with their myopic view
Will they ever know before the hour’s through

Dare Not Open My Eyes, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

Dare Not Open My Eyes

 

Dared Not Open My Eyes

The morning mystic maze of memories
Float as fog softly across calm waters
In the recesses of my laggard mind
Taking a form of silent silhouettes

There was me, there was she, stepping forward
(Such a rush, I dared not open my eyes)
Into the room, the door closed behind us
I turn to her, she turns to me slowly

I looked into her eyes, she looked in mine
We were frozen for a moment in time
While our hearts were sharing loving feelings
I leaned into her, she leaned into me

Such a rush, I dared not open my eyes
Her static energy fully absorbed
As if I were a naked lightning rod
Causing this burning heart to hesitate

Such a rush, I dared not open my eyes
Grabbing my chest, was it death I was near
For how could being in love cause such pain
Was this just a dream or a memory?

 

Unintended Gardener, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

Unintended GardenerBornero Hill, Old Lyme, Connecticut, Frederick Childe Hassam (1904)

Unintended Gardener

‘Twas not to be an ordinary day.
Spring was present but with summers hot touch.
A tree at the hill’s crest offered a stay,
From the above fireball’s sizzling clutch.

A journey of ease is now one of need,
As I feel safe harbor from its cool shade.
To pay for the stay I’d do a good deed.
From my knees view checking each twig and blade.

Reality, I know not what to do.
A rainbow of colors upon the ground.
Pull, not pull, flower, weed, what is the clue?
Frozen. Aware. My denseness is profound.

From my back pocket I take my smartphone,
For pictures of everything of color.
This way my imperfect skills I will hone,
So I’ll learn to be a future culler.