RoseAnn V. Shawiak Poems

Broken hearts, pieces scattered across the earth,
being stepped upon by uncaring, insensitive people
with no hearts of their own to speak of.
...

Envelopes of sadness lie unopened, abandoned, left to their own demise.
Tearing them open is not in my plan, so I just glance at them now and then and walk away.
Finding some other way to ignore the sadness awaiting me beyond the doors I have closed upon them.
...

Sensing a detrimental occurrence happening in the past as it drips into my soul without fear of being captured and thrown out.
Accepting it, testing and giving it expression helps to calm it down.
Being able to deal with it's feelings expressly in words written to expose all hidden aspects of whatever happens to be stepping out into the light of day - finally.
...

Looking at lightened areas shone upon by artificial light.
Searching their reflections and patterns as they stretch themselves up walls and across the floors.
Pausing to rest for moments upon chairs seated across the room, waiting to be used as seats for any number of patients coming in to be seen by the doctor.
...

Holding onto thoughts as I watch nature blasting earth
with forty-five mile an hour winds.
Fascinating views of trees, bushes, plants and flowers
bending over, kneeling in God's presence, as life
...

Wafting my way are winds of elusive beauty filling the environment with aromas of heaven.
Throwing thoughts like dice on a craps table, hoping to come up with a winning combination of words to place in poems of natural curiosity.
Watching the world around me being blown in all directions, not caring what is torn asunder by it's grasp.
...

Delving into mazes, finding my way around the many obstacles in life.
At times enjoying the challenges, other times being frustrated, not wanting to go anymore.
A lifetime of sensations being perceived in split seconds of time, an amazing feat of the human mind and being.
...

Daylight streaming into my line of vision, showering me with details not seen during the night.
Loving the amount of insurgent views tackling my mind at all times.
Excising the ebony of sadness for a while as brain cells are exercised and given free rein to express any exposed scenes transpiring before me.
...

Curving around the isolation of my being,
gives me an idea to say how I feel in writing.
Taking extra time to become what I need to be
as I fall asleep in the interim.
...