RoseAnn V. Shawiak Poems

Swiftly falling into the rhythm of another funny song.
Taking me down flowing spirals of yesterday's echoes
and climbing canyon walls with no excuses or alibis.
Moving forward into spaces reserved just for me,
...

Signaling an emptiness of sorts, filling me interiorly with displaced tears, setting me up to be lonely in the coming days.
Sitting in front of a cold, empty fireplace, feeling no warmth being emitted, no conversation being carried on, just sitting alone on a bear rug in the middle of my winter desert.
Feeling hopelessly lost, wary of any contact, yet, looking, hoping, for the one person who'll seek me out and befriend me in the loneliness of last days on earth.
...

Stringently taking hold of every response my heart feels as they close in and grip me fearfully in tears,
afraid I'll disappear in the darkness of other's desires that they try to hold me with.
Longing only to fight and keep limits and boundaries away from my mind,
I resist every effort of other people to put me under their control.
...

Rocking interiorly, keeping pace with my own private rhythm, I seek nothing more than the words to describe my talent as it writes itself out on paper.
Keeping time with signs and peaceful designs moving in patterns of notes as they transcribe melodies for me to hear and describe to others.
Full of signals and patterns, on closer examination, becoming three-dimensional in my mind.
...

Silencing voices, trying to raise a ruckus in my mind with doubts of others.
Sentencing them to corners of my mind, not wanting to listen to them anymore as I move forward,
not touching their empty words with my mind.
Leaving behind every nuance and undigestible tidbit of lasting emptiness.
...

Reading the music playing in my mind, listening to every tone and inflection of each note as it fastens itself to words that flow so easily into every poem I write.
So eloquently, cascading like a waterfall from my mind into deep calm pictures of words, like pools sent from heaven.
Holding the tears of a lifetime - those both of joy and sorrow, reflecting a life of poetical musings through musical rhythms.
...

Not wanting to know another, feeling cold and empty inside, left to my own devices as I mature in an aged environment of sorrow.
Carefully touching my face, feeling the tears holding on for dear life, afraid to let go, lest they fall, disappearing forever, leaving me in an empty, arid shell.
...

Seething inside, filled with a quiet anger of betrayal.
Wandering around, not being able to control it's escape as it neutrally sits inside, waiting to pounce like a tiger wanting a meal.
Moving along pathways, tracing indefinite patterns, leading nowhere.
Sauntering down emotional lanes of sadness as if in a trance - a dream like quality with no relevance to observe.
...

Tears glistened many-colored memories, waving gently
in the heated breeze.
Reflecting feelings unknowingly, tugging teardrops from
my heart, bringing them to my moist blue eyes.
...