RoseAnn V. Shawiak Poems

Figuring emotions on an empty mind, going through exercises of futility on endless journey's through times of yesterday.
Seeing a myriad of senses standing in the distance, awaiting recognition and praise for attempting to live life on terms of endearment.
...

Quiet solemnity falls upon me as I sit in soft sunlight, thinking about the not so distant past.
One where my friend, was a part of here at Saint Francis and Brophy Prep.
It seems so long ago, yet the memories are here within my mind, of happier times, grading papers, doing what I could to free up some of his time so he could attend to more important matters of the church and monastery.
...

A lifelong association with family and friends brings happiness and joy to the cockles of our heart in the winter of our life.
Dispersing harmony at times, in unison with feelings of love and caring kept inside through the years.
Blowing embers to keep them alive and vibrant on coldest days of death's visits to those we have loved all of our lives.
Cradling our memories, we keep them close to our hearts as we slip and slide to our next horizons.
...

Writing in a quandary of elicitive emotion, jumping into reveries of display as I wander aimlessly through life and it's beliefs, gradually coming to terms with self.
Realizing you can't find any answers outside of self, you need to be introspective and open to what you may or may not find.
...

Age and wisdom converge on the dance floor, stepping to inner rhythms, keeping in time with years in life.
Finding a bond amidst all the turmoil living causes us, is a cinch when music brings together all ages in unison.
...

Wintry, cold day, causing an intimo of emotion, building a glacier of ice within to hide my tears from all I meet.
Music being played touches my mind, bringing it alive and in tune with life's bizzare requirements.
...

Destiny fulfills experience without frills or expectations, acknowledging an innate talent in life's hidden corners.
Finding treasures in silent caches of imagination, reserved for poetical decisions in labyrinths of a fundamental world.
Sending messages through a mind of vision and imagery.
...

Forming friendships through life's misery, lasts to amount to some joy along the way.
Alleviating some of the heartache we all go through.
An everlasting aisle of tribulation continuing until eternity gets in it's way.
...

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.
...