Poetry's Hands Poem by RoseAnn V. Shawiak

Capturing rhythms in the palms of poetry's hands,
collecting them and beginning to provide their tempos
into flowing motion of ocean tides.

Normally being caught in perfect storms, loving the
tumultuous waves throwing me about, tasting the salt
water and spitting it disgustingly out.

Still though, enjoying the ebb and flow of desires as
they ride upon the surface of my being.

Affectionately being held in caverns of my soul, waiting
to be used in arms of loving in nighttime aromas.

Gently pulsing with the invigorating rhythms of a loved
one's heartbeats, as they lie together in one another's
arms.