RoseAnn V. Shawiak Bereavement Poems

Chiming sounding into intellect, selecting tones to match
with words of beauty and their peaceful meanings.

Unfolding gently into minds of those who are drowning in
...

A dirge of summer's heat beats down upon my brow, causing me
to sweat profusely.

Walking many miles, counting none of them to while away the
...

Riding the highways into unfathomable seas of darkness
caused by a bereavement of life's horizons.

Turning away with tears falling down into the cisterns
...

Never lacking a sense of humor, even in the worst of
times standing against me in life, knowing that every-
thing and everyone will eventually die.
...

Life is at a standstill, followed only by the vapors of
heavenly waiting.

Shattering the atmosphere of sadness, hallowed with everlasting timing.
...

Charging quietly into edges of future horizons, wanting to
capture the essence of great times that were had in years
of hope and despair.
...

Bountifully thinking on plains of desert gardens,
aridly sitting alone, crying drops of loneliness
under mesquite trees of brambly beauty.
Thorns of adornment jut from every limb, warning
...

Bouncing around, enjoying every nuance of rhythm as
it escapes the environment and is caught by my mind
in anticipation of a new poem on the near horizon.
...

Recollecting moments when I couldn't cry, not even silently.
A bereft heart filled to capacity without an outlet for my tears.
Always tearing and causing me to be ripped apart tumultuously in stairwells of caustic bereavement.
Jouncing around, not coming up with anything relevant to describe
...

Knowing feelings of bereavement as they crawl about,
interceding in moments of life as they revolve around
us.
Taunting our tears with grief, touching our hearts
...

Minor chords, lifting hearts high into the atmosphere,
calling to inner realms of expression.
Urging reality to step in time, keeping beat with
conscious bereavement.
...

Shining along walkways, stepping quietly
into a circular circumference of achievement.
Benefiting my soul with indefinite perceptions
of ability, facing reality with an astounding
...

Falling into a musical pattern, taking off with it's design as it builds itself into a rhyme of selection.
Grasping thoughts, a dozen at a time, filling the emptiness of my mind with prosaic blossoms, scented with bereavement.
Roses to be set upon a grave dug for a family member in her prime.
Scheduling an opportune time to respect and praise her life in moments of latent demise.
...