RoseAnn V. Shawiak Poems

Psychology of a personality being sung in a song, funny yet solemn as a female in a chronic and toxic state of mind not able to make up her mind on whether to get married or not.

Inconclusive, unsure, not quite timid, in a mood not very soothing, heart dissatisfied completely with a picture of self as an insecure woman.
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Rhythms flowing in and out of a mind, dreams still afloat in a heart of one who is a dreamer in this life of humanity.

Moving slowly in many years, whiling away time in a silent reasoning, hoping that future times would reopen a heart.
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Singing a song of a youthful crush, refreshing and openly splashing a childish love of special designs that come from being friends.

Learning to match feelings and emotions with a reality that will be treasured all through life, but for now just enjoying how a
youthful crush makes one feel so alive and loving.
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An old cow-hand memory coming to mind in a rhythm that starts out slowly, then gets aboard a locomotive, traveling at a rapid speed.

Bringing together images of once wanting to be in love just because it sounded good to this young teenager having a lot to learn about love before finding out the truth of true love.
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Listening to a song of sweetened candy as life is being compared to a lovely time where hearts come together.

Tending to sounds of a good life, in order to keep going in this temporary world here on earth.
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Racing through the night, giving music a run for its money in rapid rhythms as they keep racing down the tracks.

Train whistle blowing, helping to keep track of where you're going, living in rhythms being clapped and sung quickly.
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Music playing from the good old days as we're enjoying the sounds of yesterday, wanting Dad and Mom to dance, but they've both gone out, wanting to be alone together.

Matching and finding energy to be combined and lived in signatures of what used to bring meaning to their hearts and souls back then.
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Interrupted voice being clouded by a sound that just can't seem to be sung tonight, wandering along trails that wind throughout forests of make-believe.

Not having anywhere to rest or hide from mistakes made in life, searching, hoping to find some semblance of love, sitting back, drinking coffee.
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Walking dreamily beneath a starry sky that holds a spell just for a poet taking time to walk in the darkness alone.

An interior peaceful feeling that holds heart and mind so tightly, taking rhythms gently hand in hand.
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A lone chair standing at an empty table, maybe feeling the sadness of someone who has yet to come and stop for a while.

A heart having been beaten until it's black and blue from a constant barrage of abuse through the years, giving off only messages of a poverty in love.
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