RoseAnn V. Shawiak Poems

Wandering onto plateaus of reticence, careful, wanting to
know the answers to this interior life, not knowing how to
play the messages being sent.
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Secretly finding puzzles lying beneath the surface,
a performance of quiet purpose lying in wait, hap-
hazard voices, instrumentally being heard.
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Hurriedly accepting musical peace of a band flowing into
the center of my mind, being strummed in the wayward wind,
touching the beneficence of my soul.
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Like wind blowing fiercer and harder through an interior
storm, gales tossing everything in all directions, care-
lessly leaving me behind a wall of curtains.
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Emotionally draining melodies collapsing my heart, taking
me into devastating particles of being, tracing patterns
within it's circumference, touching the interior of my soul.
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Golden silence being interrupted by classical music played
on a harp, an interior sadness being built upon as tears
flow into the center of my heart.
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In and out, tearing down barricades unsurmountable in any
stage of life, letting go, finding a musical chord lead-
ing to gates of heaven.
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Softly echoing in time, vibrating the essence of life with
classical chords that climb in and out of every moment in
an intense inner divinity.
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Energetically clocking rhythms throughout the night,
forsaking the epitome of life itself, testing my
strength of character through music's belief and faith.
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Delicate hands performing musical escalations upon a harp,
finding an essence that was left behind centuries ago and
now is becoming the new sound of rhythm.
...