RoseAnn V. Shawiak Poems

Longing for days of yore, wishing it were yesterday again so I could speak to my relatives like I used to when they were alive.
Poetry is written inconsolato because of the sorrow flowing within, stretching ever further into my being, pulling me from the present at times.
Inflections in my mind mirror grief's effect on me without, as I listen with my heart.
...

Straightening thoughts upon
a rack from dungeons of old,
trying to untangle webs of
deceit given you by another,
...

Driving it home in a song of uncontained love left dying on the concrete sidewalk.
Everyone walking by, not noticing the pain a person is going through as they die inside from the loss of a lifetime.
Being taken from someone you've loved all your life is devastating and unable to be held inside.
A torrent of tears fall quickly, soaking the ground with intense suffering, leaving a hole in a now empty heart.
...

Regular times in life we all travel
down pathways of daily routines,
never faltering in our steps.
Knowing the way to our livelihoods
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Swelling with words within my brain,
needing to let them drain themselves
into many poems.
Leaving me to write continually in a
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Winding down as the night grows
longer in yearning hours of slumber.
Touching upon dreams as they begin
to crowd around, wanting to be
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