Category Archives: Poetry

The Muse Erato

Tadeusz Styka, Girl Playing Lyre (c.1930)

The Muse Erato, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

Erato, name so true, thou art my muse.
Gazing upon thy beauty motivates.
Thy every movement provides many cues,
While words from thy lips so invigorate.

My pen never tires when writing of thee,
Though thou be a far distance from my touch.
Eyes tightly closed I feel thee before me,
The vision I feel of thee is nonesuch.

Over my heart, Oh, the power thou has,
To do whatever be thy desired will,
As I am helpless captured by thy snares.
Of this shall write ‘til my body is still.

Why is it then that I must write so free?
So the future knows of my love for thee.

The Shepherdess

William-Adolphe Bouguereau, The Shepherdess (1889)

The Shepherdess, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

An explorer to this emerald land,
Seeking natural pleasures for my eyes.
Craggy hills of green making views so grand,
Sure to provide many natural highs.

Path made gentle by centuries of hoof.
At the hilltop my eyes captured the sea.
Feelings of having the world in my loof.
Turning a beautiful sight I did see.

Putting my heart in a state of rapture,
It was I now in the palm of her hand.
Was it possible to be love for sure?
If be questioned will follow heart’s command.

My days of exploring have just ended,
With smiles to the village we descended.

Reflective Sunrise

Warren Sheppard, Reflective Sunrise (c 1885)

Reflective Sunrise, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

The orange ball in view beyond the blue,
Is my partner to show the straight away.
Talk not do we but the signs ever true.
Wisp of red is above my head this day.

Twice per day does the froth clear my view,
Of a history now to be forgotten.
The morning does show four, two beside two,
Small next to large have I seen so often.

All in all do they in equal stride,
Then to hurriedly change to toe meets toe.
Cadence doth repeat while the froth does bide.
Swiftly they are halfed. Why? Only to know?

Search as I may, the small not for me to see,
While the large are now pointing to the sea.

Loving a Woman

Adolphe-Joseph-Thomas Monticelli, Cock Fight in Front of a Group of Young Women

Loving a Woman, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

There is not a woman I could not love
Though each different in a special way
For all are sent with God’s love from above
Surely this heart they’ll be able to sway

Not to say I give my heart too freely
Feelings that only a woman can hold
Yet I find something to love so dearly
With power to make my weakened knees fold

With internal strength of a lioness
Yet yielding to a stream of countless tears
Can provide unlimited tenderness
Just as able to couch her endless fears

Weary hearts a woman can gently lift
I give thanks to God for a loving gift

Love That Was

Love That Was, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

The open face fireplace roars and crackles
Moving ever so close to feel its heat
In the cherry red flames I see angels
Here to help in my ferocious defeat

Shivering, isolated in my grief
While my head spinning like a Ferris wheel
Lingering helplessly in disbelief
Inside my heart it is death that I feel

Consumed by dark thoughts of a verbal war
Face to face, anger redder than this fire
Words were a sharp pike, at my heart it tore
Further life I have no biting desire

Her handkerchief shall take to my cold grave
Such torment from a love that I couldn’t save