Almond Blossoms, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

Almond Blossoms

The battles rage between winter and spring
With reckless northern winds and freezing rain
While the robin redbreasts begin to sing
And naked human skin fair game for pain

In the congested grove filled with white balls
Holding on to every branch of the tree
Fearlessly fights off winter’s final squalls
Knowing spring’s gentle warmth will set them free

Soon to be countless opened loving cups
Filled with buttery honey-like vapor
For days on end there will be no letups
As armies of honey bees collect myrrh

The scent of the almond blossoms abound
Sad their petals soon to be on the ground

Image credit:

https://www.vangoghmuseum.nl/en/collection/s0176V1962?v=1

The Sower, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

Vincent van Gogh, The Sower (1888)

The Sower

Working before the rising sun
With pain in my sandpaper hands
Knowing there is much to be done.

Working before the rising sun
Many tasks unable to shun
For the weather gives its commands

Working before the rising sun
With pain in my sandpaper hands

Cornfield, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

Cornfields and Crows, Vincent Van Gogh (1890)

                           Cornfield

The rolling, cooling air was moving in
Bringing with it grey cotton in the sky.
My body showing its October skin
Freckled, speckled sand and extremely dry.

Standing before me they command their ground
Soldiers by the thousand within my view.
Flaying and wailing cried a morbid sound
Be but one victor when the day is through.

Aggressively attacked the left, it’s war!
Superior power, mowing them down.
No, but before me appeared countless more.
Was steadfast, mowing down those stalks of brown.

Cleaned the tractor and all its cutting gear,
The cornfield now sleeps ’til early next year.

The Green Parrot, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

The Green ParrotThe Green Parrot, Vincent Van Gogh (1886)

The Green Parrot

Nary a moment inside of the door
Not given time to hang my outer coat
The eager green parrot says ‘give me more’
Never to fail for it is merely rote

The cracker is my ticket to enter
This place filled with much love and happiness
But not a place of incessant banter
A place to share my love which is endless

To taste her red velvet lips I implore
If to wait I shall certainly explode
The softness of her body to explore
Every ounce of her love to be swallowed

Hotly caressing the one I adore
Heard the parrot kept saying ‘give me more’

 

Scars, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

VanGogh-self-portrait-with_bandaged_ear

Vincent van Gogh, Self-portrait (1889)

Scars, Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

Look at my ancient legs and arms now tired,
Which carry scars received during my life,
Yet those inside most painfully acquired.
My heart being stabbed with a verbal knife.

Of many I’ve loved the deepest was you,
The sight of your beauty my heart did quake.
My many words of love to you were true.
In your slightest absence my heart would ache.

You touched me with an ever glowing smile,
The laughter was music to me unknown.
Of your love for me was quick denial,
Now within my chest is a harden stone.

For many, the world of love is cruel,
For me, I am the perpetual fool.