RoseAnn V. Shawiak Poems

Sorrow pours from my eyes on traditional mornings as
memories pop in like popcorn, hitting me squarely in
depths of my heart where I sit hiding.
Delicately touching strings of intuition and blessings, focusing my mind on the heaviness I feel quietly inside.
...

Rich in words, beliefs and sorrow, tended in lonely
mansions of tomorrow's interchanges.
Veiling blue shadows through yesterday's funerals,
watching for omens of life now past.
...

Deep in my heart, feelings stir, quelling any doubts
of insincere thoughts.
Lying on fragile beds of lace, not wanting to journey
past indignant meanings, standing to sides of pathways, regretting their existence.
...

Lively, unanticipated music, singing to my heart's mind
with verve and vigor.
Enlightening my morning, stepping up a mood of enjoyment,
and filling me with elation.
...

Relentlessly pounding the air around me, pulverizing tirelessly, all beats of rhythms in my mind.
Leaking out of circles, gathering about notes that
never retire.
Following carelessly, steps being made up as I go on.
...

Going through lapses of memory, trying to revive them, yet somehow they've died inside.
Wanting to find them, I continually write about them to no avail.
Searching endlessly does no good.
Hoping beyond what I can hope, being left out in a vast desert landscape with no way to return to normal ordinary things.
...