Woman Walking on a Forest Trail, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

Polenov Vasily-Woman Walking on a Forest Trail (1883)

Vasily Polenov, Woman Walking on a Forest Trail (1883)

 

Woman Walking on a Forest Trail, Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

With bible in hand I will make my stand,
Against those who question God’s love and might.
He who may cease a life at His command,
Or give us the peace of this wondrous site.

His temple is beyond a house of stone,
It is here where my mind can hear His word.
I feel his presence though he has no throne,
It is here where my hungry heart is stirred.

Listen to the music, the sounds of joy,
Neither drums and horns nor strings can be heard,
Is smallest of creatures He does employ.
Come stand with me, your mind will be altered.

Surely this can’t be of human design,
Or random event, this place is Divine!

 

 

 

 

 

Finding Heaven, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

z-Moran Thomas-Forest Scene 1870

Thomas Moran, Forest Scene (1870)

 

Finding Heaven, Robert A Sieczkiewicz

Standing among the subtly gold and green,
In a playground so wondrously serene.
Pausing, then vacuuming air so clean,
A trespasser in a place so pristine.

Harboring a weird sense that I’ve been seen.
Looked about everywhere with eyes so keen.
Showing my intention not to be mean,
Be transparent in this idyllic scene.

Kneeling at the water filled my canteen,
Calming, as if served a shot of morphine,
For my heart it provides such a cuisine.
With its Maker my meeting to convene

When asked to vacate, was not unforeseen,
As Heaven is for souls not to be wean.

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Praise to the Stately Tree, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

Cole George-At Arudel, Sussex;1887

Praise to the Stately Tree, Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

From my windows the wonders I do see,
Giving to pause the reason of its cause.
The majestic pow’r of the stately tree,
To its Maker I give humble applause.

This giant silent friend much does it send.
No matt’r the weather it toils in the soil.
Creating the things I so much depend.
Easing my life and reducing turmoil.

Leaves of the tree provide so I may breathe,
At summer’s end fall nourishing the ground.
In its shade from the sun I take my leave,
To eat its fruit in which trees now abound.

Should the removing of the trees persist,
Life as we now know it shall not exist.

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Painting by George Vicat Cole, At Arundel, Sussex, 1887.