The Voice, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

The VoiceThe Voice, Summer Night, Edvard Munch (1896)

The Voice

Your voice calls to me on this summer night
I hear you but you are out of my sight
Lost, not knowing what direction to go
Now wondering if I will ever know

Like a longing love bird sing out to me
Hide not your body behind any tree
If you are real your song will not stop
And I will search for you until I drop

As if an owl I will take rapid flight
With the thrilling full moon as my search light
I’d ride the soft summer wind ’til you’re found
In but a moment I’d be on the ground

You immediately I shall embrace
Falling gently to a heavenly place
Of our lovers’ bed of deep silky moss
On your heart my initials I’ll emboss

Summer Night Fire, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

Summer Night Fire

Summer Night Fire

Raging fire burned through the night
Every part touched did ignite
Fed by a soft summer breeze
Were the sounds of many pleas
Of your loving give me more
Though I sweat from every pore

Parting Friends at Summer’s End, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

Parting Friends

Parting Friends at Summer’s End

Birch leaves are flashing a glowing yellow
Providing us with an early warning
Seeing changing colors makes me mellow
Wondering of what will soon be coming
When the annual plants refuse to grow

The hummingbirds continue to visit
But I wonder how long they will remain
Soon unannounced they will make their exit
To plead them to stay on would be in vain
Within they have a survival habit

Of my feathered friends will miss them the most
The time spent at the glass watching them pass
Tending the feeders as should a good host
Oh excitement when they come en masse
Each fluttering just like a little ghost

Cannot fault them for not wanting to stay
For I too prefer the warmth to the cold
When the warm sun makes for a longer day
Unfortunately, summer I can’t hold
I’m a snowbird soon to be on my way

Heat of Desire, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

Heat of DesireMysteries of Lisbon (Mistérios de Lisboa, 2010)

Heat of Desire

It is love that I fervently desire
For there is a deep ache to be with you
I am consumed by this internal fire
Such a lasting burn that I never knew

Burning hotter than the sun’s summer glow
Bursting as if a huge phosphorous flare
Every thought of you brings on greater woe
For all hours your image is always there

Capturing me with your hypnotic scent
Quickly made me unable to resist
By your endless beauty my strength was spent
From that moment on the fire did persist

I am worn to a point where now I grieve
Need you now to say our love we shall share
That a powerful love we shall conceive
Or am I doomed to a life of despair

The Visitors, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

The VisitorsLa Neige, Charles-François Daubigny (1873)

The Visitors

The snow’s cold whiteness creeps up to my door
While the melancholy sun bids farewell
Mystically crows swarm more than five score
There is an urgent message they must tell

Raising my shovel they will not scatter
With great fear I hold my quivering breath
It’s easy to understand their banter
These darkened creatures sing their song of death

Where summer they’d quietly steal my corn
Autumn barren fields provide easy prey
Not here to repay my gun’s bitter scorn
No they’re just here to say this is my day

Would prefer a single singing angel
Rather than this rowdy crowd of babel