RoseAnn V. Shawiak Poems

Chewing on edges of my mind as I think
of what is being shown to me in
measured meters of music and rhyming.
Tasting memories of past meals,
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Someday will never come until the last moment of breath on earth.
Then all of the sadness, sorrow, abandonment and suffering will have
ended on the last sound left behind.
Resting in the future of heaven with God forever beside me, never to allow me to feel any of those emotions again.
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Music playing reflections of my mind in rhythmic sounds, attuned to feelings felt inside.
Attitudes adjusting, trembling, crawling inside, terrorizing brain cells into submission, causing such anxiety that creative avenues walk off and find other environments in outer corners of another world.
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Traipsing down roadways, tapping out rhythms in times of musical domain.
Creating new versions of tonal qualities, composing extra beautiful compositions, sonnets, sonatas and epistles of historical rhythms.
Going too soon, into depths of sorrow's belongings, putting together pictures of another world, hiding inside the abandonment of life and it's heritage.
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Justifying ideas in frames of images, pulling them together in rivulets of visions, taken into avenues of subconscious memories. Stirring them and clearing all else from interfering with their poetical essences.
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Clapping to inner rhythms, giving an energy born from innate talent.
Causing major designs to be brought into perspective and held close to my heart as I continually move further away from life.
Stilling depths of sorrow, watching it turn into prayers of death, suicidal ideals continually being produced with a finality of rejoicing.
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Standing back, watching music flare and firework into the skyway of my mind.
Leaving the earth behind, sprinkling colors into the atmosphere, while touching the prisms of essence.
Crunching morsels of images, flavorful to my mind as I create unmanufactured pleasantries in deserts of imagination.
Keeping pace with melodic rhythms, dancing to tunes of eternal grace.
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Leaves, brown, curling around my mind with their deaths' lying strewn within boundaries of lonely desires.
Wanting to be loved again, taken into hands of caring with no strings attached or held by anyone.
Sovereign ideas clasping hands with heart-felt senses infuriating the calmest parts of me.
Tasting the bitter-sweet anger of yesterday, attempting to adjust and control it's presence in my life.
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Reading my mind as I look at all the pictures of thought, sitting there waiting to be written into poetry on a daily basis.
Beauty comforting me as I see intense landscapes that develop constantly in picturesque memories and images.
Thoughtful recall of energetic sounds, carefully growing into different directions of exacting mathematical calculations.
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