RoseAnn V. Shawiak Poems

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3811.
Views Of Literature

Marching thoughts straddling intellect,
riding them like horses on the trail,
taking along so many ideas and views of
literature in nature to this particular
...

3812.
Twigs Poking Memories Of Childhood

Twigs poking my memories, bringing them to the forefront so I may see the beautiful willow trees of home when I was just a child.
Their long slender fingers grazing the lawn, hiding me behind them, because I didn't want to be found at times by anyone.
Turning towards the trunk, touching it's bark and lifting myself into the branches of it's arms, wanting to be held by mother nature.
Always feeling safe and secure in their hold, not ever wanting to climb back down.
...

3813.
Upbraided Areas

Rushing to meet a rhythm beating inside me, wanting to continue to feel it's thunder inside my chest.
At ease in it's presence, enjoying the grasp it has on my heart, soul and mind.
Never minding that it takes me away to heights and depths of life and reality.
Solo thoughts africanized in jungles of my imagination, not wanting to be tamed by rules of english grammar.
...

3814.
Placing A Presence

Topless palm trees,
standing naked in the Arizona afternoon sun,
not being seen by anyone besides this poet.
Placing it's presence now in a poem to be
...

3815.
Kaleidoscopes Of Sound

Switching positions,
adjusting linear situations to see
what will appear in kaleidoscopes of sound.
Each design's color emits a tone of perfect
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3816.
Scribbled Thoughts

Scribbles of a genius
form from thoughts of
intellectual wisdom,
becoming future
...

3817.
Privacy

Closing doors on a continual basis,
keeping some things in private where
they belong.
Knowing they will always be available
...

3818.
At Grandma's

Exercising images,
making them jump and leap.
Just like when they were
children, playing in the yard
...

3819.
Doc L.

Finally feeling at ease,
because I'm in an office,
waiting to see Dr. L. -
someone I can trust to take
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3820.
Perfect Space

Fiddling, playing a violin in my imagination with preciseness and perfect pitch.
Allowing it's strident sounds to match the feelings of abandonment and loneliness, as my heart and soul cry silently within their tones and harmony.
Playing so no one else can hear, because I'm in the perfect space reserved for me alone.
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