RoseAnn V. Shawiak Poems

Tears fall from memories of yesterday where a heart is kept tucked away in tears.
Showing pictures of those who were loved dearly and have been touched by them with their souls.
Carefully taking them one by one, and sharing with others, their pictures will always keep them cherished in depths of hearts where once they lived together.
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Even in death a palo verde tree looks graceful and delicate.
Although dead, brown with decay, I find it's beauty still instilled from nature.
Touching my heart, a teardrop forms and slides down my cheek in celebration of the memory of it's once long life.
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Solitarily finding expectations to conform to, as figures of design combine and collate in patterns of intellect.
A sounding off of expert guises, filling spaces left open by past departures of family as they pass into another dimension, away from us on earth.
Missing them, reminiscing about them in moments of despair as we walk alone without them.
Transpiring dreams following us in sleep, during the nights of awakening images, haunting our daydreams as well.
...

Walking across desert sands as I contemplate puzzles of life,
reaching within to collate what mosaics I'm thinking about,
giving me spaces to create nostalgic new forms of ideals just
thought of.
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Breaking evenly over sketches of tomorrow, adjoining beats of
life to notes of nature calling to elevations of prime details,
settling onto ocean waves.
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Education continuing within it's realms,
purifying abstractions, with cognitive
ideas, and saturating issues hiding
beneath darkness.
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Etching gentle reminders on papers of my mind,
recovering facets left alongside waysides on
travels beyond comprehension.
...

Straying alone on footpaths of solace, facing circumstances
of future displays.

Forever assigning sorrow to coverlets of my heart's existence
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Settling in among crevices of recognition,
watching for sparkles of knowledge to appear
and forge happenings into being as light
folds over and disappears into the future
...

Corrugating values lift themselves to heights of peaked
mornings, landing on outstretched arms of truth and
justice.
Forming newly-made custom fittings, bereft of exact
...