RoseAnn V. Shawiak Poems

Floating through the atmosphere, encased in a bubble of natural desire, wanting to be expressed in depth.
Pushing me into labyrinths of texture where I can explore the environment I've been landed in.
Watching as my curiosity discovers all types of things that I suddenly sense before me.
Cavorting in a circle of amusement as I write about all that I see and feel.
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Signaling to synapses, trying to decipher interpretations of musical repertoires for tomorrow's anticipated prose.
Selected antiphons carry omens of delightful energy, posting edicts along every avenue of nature, wafting scents towards my mind.
Folding compactly, with a precision of unequaled quality, aspiring to a greatness held inside with a solemn contempt for life and it's trials.
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Purposely flowing, listening to quiet rhymes of ingenuity and wisdom, letting them saturate my being with their intelligence.
Fulfilling every thought with novel ideas, glancing ahead, seeing the future brighten then darken with my last breath.
No where finding self, because I'm no longer here, I'm just a spirit of some people's memories.
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Mind strumming the guitar of my heart, placing me in hallways of yesterday's rhythms, giving all the pain I've felt through the years, words to process it and heal me.
Throughout the universe I've traveled in aisles of my mind, strumming the pain held inside through all these years.
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Howling like the wind, isolation of abandonment
stirs within me.
Taking away my livelihood and essence, leaving
me in an ocean of loneliness too large to exit
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Spinning circles rectangularly, moving through square orbits, challenging old ways of doing things.
Rewriting life to fit modern traditions,
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Years of experience holding one another,
stepping together in time over rough
roads of trials and strife.
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Standing on the edge of a final nightfall, awaiting a sign, a portion of faith to carry me forward into the next stage of life.
Totally immersed in a quagmire of deafening silence, causing me to sink into the very pits of hell, with no voice left to cry for help, no thread of hope left either.
Solo tears forming incessantly, tightening my heart against untruths of people.
Knowing now, there's no one, I wander alone down sorrowful garden aisles, trying to find my way back.
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Dreams catching my mind in yesterday's hallways,
framed and waiting to be written out.
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Rhythms crossing and changing, bringing about changes
in moods of life, scattering them into the wind like
leaves falling in a storm.
...