RoseAnn V. Shawiak Poems

Knocking on inner doors throughout catacombs,
underground, leading into fashions of exuberant
mosaics.
Being partially hidden in darkness, covered by
...

Deepening depths of feelings,
being touched with pangs of love,
felt tremulously with reverence.
...

Being disappointed all through life
is something I'm used to.
Listening to what people tell me,
knowing that it will probably not come
...

Being gently misted as a breeze rushes over me,
parting my hair so naturally.
Letting it blow, tossing and tangling my curls as
I continue to write.
...

Stretching my soul towards heaven,
collecting pictures and images of
stormy clouds, tall trees, gusts of
wind.
...

Talking inwards, finding more questions than answers.
Dividing and multiplying images and ideas as they etch
themselves into my mind.
...

Naming emotions as they grow and crop up out of nowhere.
Never solicited nor wanted, yet they are always there
beckoning me to explore and learn who they are.
...

Rubbing our desires on bedposts in life,
knowing they'll never be fully satisfied
while alive, yet we strive for just that,
hoping we will make it with very little
...

Listening to rhetoric pouring from somewhere within my mind,
beckoning me to enter into a voyage particular to intellect
and capability.
...

Battling between lines of coercion and rhyme,
making decisions to melt my mind - at least half-way in time.

Fortunate aspects of integrity split and produce clone-like
...