RoseAnn V. Shawiak Poems

Softly tuning to an inner nature, seeking peace within,
fulfilling obligations as so many duties of this life.

Going deeply to this inner mind, sorting out pictures
...

Empty spaces of desert plains are suddenly filled
with the essence of my soul as I write it into
existence for all to see.
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Watching intently, hoping to see the music I
hear so I can put it in poetry for all to see.
Finding that experiments are living in me still,
giving access to all things impossible.
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Busy-looking carpets being walked upon by many
people of various types and models of living.
Some with a lively step, as when they were
younger, others barely getting around, holding
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Noticing the surroundings, seeing
everything clearly as crystal,
wanting no clarification whatsoever.
Tending cryptically to coded prose,
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Windows reflecting thoughts of reprieve,
hoping to mirror them in visions on inner
screens of peaceful solutions.
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Waiting patiently for pictures so I can write poems for them,
yet knowing now, they were accidentally deleted.
Stars hanging in my mind, cannot connect to poems being written,
because there are no pictures to bring them into being.
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Wallowing in puddles of music, enjoying their
wetness upon arid thoughts pulled from inner deserts.
Creating all manner of playful games, giving rise to
laughter through splendid lines of humor.
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Withering and deadened, lying within my mind, sorrow is now
making itself heard, tired of waiting, now stepping up and
screaming silently into this intellect, causing quite a stir.
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Fields of forgetless memories, lying in disarray, waiting
to be picked or chosen and arranged in certain bouquets,
sunlight airily focusing in, spraying corners with the
brightness of it's smile.
...