RoseAnn V. Shawiak Poems

Life is so solitary even among many people, finding only a
solo journey progressing down lanes of old, feeling the
sorrowful aspects of life, walking by them one by one.
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Violin bows crossing and playing strings of my mind,
taking me to levels of intellect only their music
can access.
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Petals of roses drift slowly into fragrant piles of
thought, as breezes constantly blow them about,
clearing the way of imagination's subconscious whims.
Scattering across desert plains, beautiful images
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Hummingbird helicopterily flying about,
barely staying a moment to get a drink
for it's journey around nature's
abode.
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Rolling around the station, then heading down tracks
in search of locomotive ideas.
Listening to lonesome whistles of trains pulling out
in every direction, never intending to return.
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Offenses of others are peeling me like an onion,
causing me to cry incessantly.
Wanting to find some comfort along the way,
seems to be impossible on any day in life.
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People sitting around in a doctor's waiting room,
doing their things - reading magazines, texting,
playing games, all to pass the time while waiting.
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Crawling along life's catwalks, not caring to look down into it's depths, just slowly walking on pathways I create from whims of imagination.
Serenely capturing youth and holding it in treasured memories for days ahead when I will be of no use to anyone, except in my mind, alone with myself.
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Family is always inherent in my life,
a tribute to my parents and grandparents.
A whole lifetime of Italian tradition,
expressions, language.
...