Summer Love, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

 

Summer LoveElena en la Playa, Biarritz, Joaquin Sorolla y Bastida (1906)

Summer Love

In my hand I hold a rose fully spent,
No more memories of its pleasant scent.
Each petal picked I toss into the sea,
But to have a wave return them to me.

They now cluster in the pure virgin sand,
Making me think of when our love began.
Many roses glowing in the sunshine.
You cut a soft one saying it was mine.

Its velvety feeling I held so close,
Reacting to one of Cupid’s arrows.
Giving thanks to you with a longing kiss,
Now all that I can do is reminisce.

There is a change in the cool autumn air,
The wind captures the petals as I stare.
Our summer love has now gone astray,
But for a while in my heart you will stay.

Beautiful as any Rose, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

Beautiful as any RoseTwo pink Prince de-Bulgarie roses, Frans Mortelmans (n.d))

Beautiful as Any Rose

This joyous month of June and here thou art,
The most beautiful of those before me.
Chivalry is my approach from the start,
As before I’ve been taken to my knee.

Your beauty excels beyond all others,
Yet thorny can thy disposition be,
Forcing some to invoking their druthers.
That will not however be true of me.

Study thee have I from both near and far,
As well as history and pedigree,
To avoid a fearful motive to spar,
For my wish is to hold you breathlessly.

With two hands I caress thee ev’r softly,
Looking upward, dreaming of us warmly.

Rose in the Snow, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

a pot of live roses partly covered by snow
Image manipulated by author

Rose in the Snow

Autumn leaves are now easily scattered,
Running here and there seeking safe cover,
Away from a wind visibly angered.
Is there nowhere to avoid its bluster?

The red rose shows courage standing her ground,
Not yielding an inch as the vexed wind swirled,
In its effort her colors to impound.
As a taunt bright red color she unfurled.

Then ever vengeful wind throws ice of white,
Pummeling her through the darkness of night.
Each passing hour she continues to fight,
Her red color remains at sun’sĀ first light.

Though winning the battle the end is near,
But rose in the snow shall return next year.

Dreaming Man, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

Man SleepingThe Sleeping Man, Carolus Duran (1861)

Dreaming Man, Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

The warm dusk embraced them, they dine and dance
Soon darkness took them under her soft wing
Strolling hand in hand, the start of romance
In the other’s loving smile was basking

Neither to be the first to say good night
Both know their evening has come to an end
They were only one step from out of sight
A red rose to him did she quickly send

He breathed in the rose then gave it a kiss
Studying its petals he’s in a trance
Now fully in the loving state of bliss
With heavy eyes gave the rose one last glance

She is the only one he will adore
His dream ruined by a knock on the door

 

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

 

Antique Roses, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

Antique RoseFlowers and Mirror, Albert Fuller Graves (n.d.)

Antique Roses

Stepping into the room it is soon felt
A sweetness supplied by the month of June
Triggering memories when rose is smelt
Rose under the nose could cause one to swoon

The rose has a fragrance as no other
Sure to relieve all your melancholy
An antidote to quell any anger
Empty heart quickly to be filled with glee

Soon June will give way to the summer heat
Soft fragrant flowers shall be first to go
The rose will now show to be in retreat
Some to be captured, their fragrance to stow

No one to see that perfect rose I took
Gently press this memory into my book

 

The Rose, a Poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

The RoseThe Rose, Frederic Soulacroix, (n.d.)

The Rose

‘Tis my wanting heart I have sent thy way
Being fragile needing thy tender care
Between thy breasts for safety it must stay
No thorns are present to give thee a scare

Sorry that the token rose having tossed
Errantly missing its intended mark
Hope this not an omen to be star-crossed
As wishes in my heart to increase this spark

But why the sadden look upon thy face
Thine eyes are missing their usual glow
If thou wear a smile isn’t in the right place
Is something in thy heart I need to know

Thy quick response surely unsuspected
For it is woeful to be rejected