RoseAnn V. Shawiak Poems

Inner blues touching this mind with their reflections of
sorrow, thoughtfully held in the heart of a photographic
memory.
...

One lone, small tree standing in the sunlight in
front of a wall, it's shadow crawling over limbs
bending to get over it.
...

Strengthening ties of all yesterday's friends, trying to become and start over again.
Leaving emotions lying on the floor of olden days when they couldn't become what it was they wanted.
Tying all their insides into clay, that could never be molded to suit anyone's personality or endeavors in life.
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Calming music, helping me to relax and fall into a contemplative mirror where I can write and be myself.
Holding onto a beautiful serenity as I am serenaded by innate talents, pouring out words, leading me to wander along pathways of heaven.
Blue roses filling heavenly gardens with saddened prose, and filled with aged tears.
...

Rocks lying about, listening to water fountains, reminding them of their own times at home where the water used to flow over them.
Reminiscing about the call of mother nature when little stones gathered about the grown-ups.
Always hearing stories of how elders were uprooted and torn from their habitats just to adorn some human being's gardens.
Giving some people beauty, who cannot make it into depths of forests, rivers, and creeks.
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Irenic emotions flowing like white rapids through me, giving me strength to get through another day.
Following an inner intuition, delving into scattered patterns of life and nature, allowing inspiration to be derived from a deep interior contemplation as I write of it's existence and continue moving forward, not wanting to miss anything.
Being as curious as ever, always trying to answer questions of life that annoy me.
...

Quietly saddling up to go into deepest forests, camping in the high country, alone, wanting to be hidden away inside the wilderness.
Taking precautions to not let anyone know where I was going to be.
Sensing all of nature, becoming the person I am inside, filled with beautiful music, poetry and art, contemplating each one in their own time.
Not leaving any stone unturned as I call to the soothing whispers within.
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Sensitive emotions curdling inside,
afraid to be shown to the world,
because they may be made fun of and
feelings would be hurt - then the
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Entombed beneath notes being played as a dirge.
Counting beats as they are interpreted in lyrics.
Falling to my knees, capturing feelings with rhythms touching and grasping my soul.
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Gray shadow clouds crossing my mind, taking me to introspection and divine will.
Sating prayerful times of sadness as I covered up emotional loss of words in hiding.
Climbing inside patterns, wallowing in grief's demise, getting accustomed to it's fit for life.
...