Color’s of My Life, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

Colors of My LifeIdealized Portrait of a Lady, Sandro Botticelli (1479)

Colors of My Life

Not long ago my canvas was naked
Only to be painted with matted black
Pigment making it extremely crowded
Obvious that there’s something that I lack

There needed to be color in my life
But what colors on my life’s pallet be
To neutralize the sorrow causing rife
Which blackens every rainbow that I see

Then came the day I saw colors needed
To finish the task would take but a few
But without question they must be vivid
And to my deep feelings they must be true

Green for color in her heavenly eyes
Soft red for her supple kissable lips
Gold for her silk hair shinning at sunrise
The rest can wait until after we kiss

The Terminal, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

The TerminalSandro Botticelli, Drawing for Dante’s Divine Comedy, 1480-95

The Terminal

A desk-clerk’s inaudible voice crackles
Giving the departures and arrivals
Some people moving as if in shackles
While others on their back carry anvils

Acrid air itself held a prisoner
Resisting but no choice I have to breathe
Feels heavy, making everything a blur
Got the feeling of being in a sheathe

Grimy concrete gives unobtrusive paths
To inauspicious restrooms and seating
Concrete texture constant outside the baths
A long hot one wish will soon be taking

Taxing but decided to take a seat
Having ample time before departing
Thought the less than being on angry street
Of shoving people and taxis blaring

In my mind am querying why this route
Are Dante and Virgil soon to arrive
Surely Beatrice will not come about
Is this my penance in this morose hive

Vanquished people trudging by looking up
Checking changes made to scheduling board
While others spread their meaningless gossip
Feeding on those who tend their sacred hoard

I now begin staring at the schedule
The click, changing from on time to delay
Creating a pain extremely awful
Causing my gray mind to begin to stray

Bowing my head yielding to this defeat
Wondering if I will get out of here
There are now cold shackles upon my feet
Now leaving has become my greatest fear

From the Sea, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

From the SeaThe Birth of Venus, Sandro Botticelli (c. 1485)

From the Sea

Light, bright as the sun falls into the sea
Forcing thousands of ripples to the shore
Disrupting the quietness quite pertly
Curious bubbling foam each ripple wore

Substance steadily stacks at water’s edge
When suddenly a wind came roaring in
Whirling all if it were a swirling dredge
Ceasing abruptly as it did begin

Then suddenly before my very eyes
Slowly grains of sand falling to the ground
The remaining form much to my surprise
I stood their helplessly without a sound

Such great beauty in her pure nakedness
Was the goddess of all beauty, Venus