RoseAnn V. Shawiak Poems

Antiques of families, made by loving, caring hands.
Cut and fit together with an old pair of metal skates used for the wheels of the table.
Varnished and polished - a wonderful piece of furniture made for a Grandmother who had fallen and broken her hip.
A quaint table when all were through, to hold important utensils and to eat from too.
...

Tears are bluened by sadness, created by hearts
of sorrow, looking askance at life and it's
tortures of existence.
At last moments of frightened darkness, a light
...

Saturated in times of life with
aesthetic woes, attempting to
conquer them with an imaginational
depth from inner realms and destiny's
...

Standing in a place, empty, no one around waiting impatiently
for a bus that is way too late.

Noises suddenly occur behind and turning I see hordes of boys
...

Traveling alone along life's shores, looking out towards
a vast beyond.

Feeling peace stir with every crashing wave, watching
...

Looking about, noticing the crowd here at the MLK breakfast,
thinking we have come a long way since 1961.

Back then, moving to Arizona in December, we had to travel
...

In between grief and grieving right now.

Afraid to share the past burden of it
because I know there will soon be a fresh
...

Becoming an atmosphere of rhymes,
watching them parade by in regal
patterns, as they set themselves
into unknown puzzles, turning
...

Trumpet staccatoly sounding out notes at attention,
making everyone sit up and take notice of the twins
playing instrumentally and singing along for all of
us at the New Year's Party.
...

Saluting and cajoling those who are around with a
cowboy grin and howdy from within.

Touching a place we call home, where we live in
...