RoseAnn V. Shawiak Poems

Saddened recollections hit me squarely in my mind, scattering my peace to four corners and bringing tears to rain on me.
Locating areas of my heart torn in pieces, wanting to reach out and heal it, knowing I can't ever do it.
Only live with the pain of being human while on earth.
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Arranging somnolent ideas as they lie sleeping along pathways of my own making.
Deriving concepts cognitively and accepting their facets with gentle caring and purpose for a future filled with picturesque beauty.
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Searching for invisible reasons, holding onto my life as if I were worthwhile.
Developing intellect as I roam through many avenues of perfect rhythm.
Steadfast, in a mission of beauty, allowing only picturesque music to penetrate my psyche.
Talented, wanton desire keeping me together, allowing an infinite amount of possibilities to surface
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Playing incessantly in blocks of time, building my own little world of fiery imagination as I hide from a world of people who do nothing but hurt and maim to the very core of my being.
Solidly standing alone, not allowing anyone to get close or know me.
Remaining a mystery to everyone, I write myself out so one day when I'm finally gone they'll get to know who I was.
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Regenerating particles of a brain bring cognition into perspective, allowing freedom of recognition to infiltrate every aspect of imagination's intellect.
Directing it to display even hidden ideas and be spread wide open.
Fragilly taking limits to extremes, giving new endeavors hope for a brighter tomorrow.
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Longtime sensations being draped over me emotionally as I sit, write and weep into pages of memorial scenes left as reminders to many thoughts, as life crowds me out.
Taking exactly what I see photographically and composing it all into musical poetry where everyone can see and admire whatever I seem to be thinking.
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Evenings still as a placid lake, rock me into dreams of yesterday when I was younger.
Tell-tale mornings offering vestiges of an opportunity to be a quiet talent on earth.
Screaming in silent words on paper, developing sincere thoughts.
Delivering many ideas to people all over the whole world.
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Silent mountain nights with reflections of a full moon shining toward the sky in a pool of water.
A calm mountain lake, taking the pace of a lover's sight.
Trekking down the trail, looking at the most beautiful ebony night, catching my eye.
Shadows following me into the past, helping me to belong in a place where strangers can't continue to be.
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Intertwining colors with tones, melodically playing in my mind, sounding off on paper in neatly ordered prose.
Quaintly saying whatever comes to a silent part of my mind - the Italian corner of it is contemplative and private.
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Flagrantly hiding in a corner, besieged by thoughts of worthless abandonment by another.
Being forsaken because I didn't remember something, thrown away like yesterday's trash.
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