RoseAnn V. Shawiak Poems

My Mom is my best friend - I can talk to her about anything.
Whether it's real or make-believe, Mom is there and she listens.
All those years of waiting in line for some attention - now grown-up and can see her alone just about whenever I want.
What I missed as a child doesn't matter so much anymore, because now my Mom is my best friend.
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Looking around at all the flashing lights,
hearing the sounds of slot machines egging
people on, urging them to spend their money
on exorbitant odds, making them think they're
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Expressing many feelings in moments of repressive rhythms, telling all in verses of mystery.
Coinciding memories of images, still forming in a mind without any repreive.
Still causing so much misery in friendships without meaning to.
Holding others hostage in her emotional barriers, pushing them away, yet holding on for dear life to their existence in her pathway,
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Character being strengthened in moments of togetherness,
elated by happiness formed in friendships all around me.
Alone, in a crowd, writing solo emotions and thoughts
for posterity.
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Archways of learning, covering years of experience and wisdom, folding in upon life and it's freedom.
Necessary evils of knowledge kill our desires, step on our curiosity and drown our wonder.
People seeking everlasting learning, never look to themselves, but are always yearning for what someone else may have.
Forgetting that in order to learn, we must live our lives in wonder and curiosity, knowledge is hurting our youth.
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Nothing can keep me from writing, whether in ink or memory.
It's second nature to write whatever I think.
Not expressing myself vocally, never being famous, doesn't
matter - I write because poetry is fun for me.
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Lifting eyes heavenward, reaching for the stars,
touching the universe instead.
Sating an appetite of innocent renderings on an
evening's journey, calculating adjustments of
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