RoseAnn V. Shawiak Poems

Archways reaching to the sky, narrowed slightly - listening to
silence measured out in moments.
Rigidly setting aside minutes of each day, attempting to sidle
up to quiet times.
...

A little bit of sadness flows through, touching ancient trails of
sorrow leading to chambers of unshed tears.
Flying towards a past of ritual in images of graceless prayer.
Unsuspecting tribunals of untouched love lie in wait, collecting
...

Life is closed, there are no barriers to scale or memories
to escape.

All is quiet, withering, nondescript - a lone pathway for
...

Thinking about effervescent clouds covering dreams of yesterday.
Unhurriedly watching patterns take shape, remolding mazes of childhood; classically mesmerizing coordinated efforts of play to
reality.
How unlike perpetual signs of daily routine they are.
...

Changing routines sometimes gives new perspectives on routine
attitudes.
Specializing in quiet, sensually gentle ideas, cultivating and nourishing them with soulful love.
Casting all negativity to careless winds of human anticipation.
...

Pedaling along the coastline of inner sadness, being washed ashore
in times of deepest despair, not moving or living, just tolerating
an existence of forbearance.
Waiting storms out in shells of civil disobedience, hoping for death
...

Blankets of ancient wisdom lie wrinkled, crinkled in corners of vast
prisons in a mind.
Autumns casually penetrating ages of youth, brown, fading, brilliant
colors of red and yellow.
...

Windows of reflection peering from past to present, escaping
detection, avoiding tears of experience we all must bear.
Hiding searchingly throughout eons of life, while penetrating
excuses to live amongst us - not thought consciously of.
...

Playing many sounds of music within this lonesome life;
grasping melodies like life-lines, trying desperately
to hold on to a sliver of something good or holy.
...

Whenever I hear a song, my mind is filled with words it's notes create.
Stepping and standing on life's shores, I reach for the impossible, I am never disappointed.
Life is made of the impossible, it lies in pebbles on the beach.
Each one in it's little way has a meaning all its' own in the destiny of life.
...