RoseAnn V. Shawiak Poems

Touching rhythms, getting their feel so
I can transpose them into poetry.
Fulfilling my essence, my passion, as I
write every day with unending joy in doing so.
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Tactile feelings primarily set inside, awaiting senses to coincide.
Total energy pushing me further than ever before, giving an
intellectual twist to figure mathematically into poetry.
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Writing down rhythms as they fit into words of thought,
lying down in poems, becoming with the start of every song.
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A mound, reaching into the sky,
like a chocolate ice cream cone
planted in the desert just for
you and I.
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Life giving off an energy, explicitly interior, forming particles of
reality, blending them with ideas and finally being contained in imagination's depths.
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Figures statuesquely mirroring life, walking among crowds of people, touching every one with an unearthly peace as life expired within them.
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Tossing and turning,
even though I'm awake,
my mind held at bay,
trying to anticipate
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Riding waves of depression,
sinking heavily into a mire of jangled nerves,
taking all of happiness away and putting it in a place of safety.
Trying not to listen, yet it hits my ears and I can't escape its wrath, soaking me in hopelessness endlessly.
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Copying, editing, filling pages of books with an ample source of thoughts and exacting findings.
Tabulating many efforts as years accumulate and expire before they can begin again to operate from senses set within, leaving only periods of distasteful memories, plying their wares where they're not wanted.
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Blue roses growing in my mind, a gift from visiting heaven for moments in time.
Beautiful times, never to be taken lightly, always appreciated because they were give by God to me.
A piece of heaven all my own, no one can take ever take them from me.
On my last day, I will return them to heaven's garden.
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