RoseAnn V. Shawiak Poems

Changing times, backing up into memories, alive with thoughtful images of family and friends.
Taking parts of every function, aligning them in videos of my mind to be played continually forever in my interior mind of wisdom.
Calling to mind, visual appearances of picturesque visions, filled with talent and insipid inspiration on fields of beautiful artistry.
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Indefinite circumstances piling up against reality, insinuating
themselves into close proximity, dampening spirits of happiness
and joy.
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Prolonging thought, lengthening it's stance as ideas revolve through tubes of creative processes.
Shaping my mind anew with linking meanings, leading to a myriad of trouble as life melts into puddles of tears.
Waylaid one October in the birth of an ideal language, supported by cryptic codes arranged in many colored hues and stepped over for other endeavors of peaceful reminiscence.
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Taking into consideration, a lifetime of pious deliberation, aspiring to become a part of the universe exteriorly.
Blending thoughts, language, and behavior, sending messages of coded enlightenment to ends of neurons to electrify synapses into activity.
Silencing inner voices, watching pictures flash quickly off and on the screen.
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Brevity of life is an impetuous to push ahead, get everything done that you feel is important and be ready for your final moment on earth.
Sensuous timing, adjusting every atom with precision to make sure life has been used fully and completely without leaving any empty spaces to contend with.
Sating life's infamous thoughts, keeping them flowing always, never forsaking any words that pour forth from screens in picturesque speech.
Always taking time to enjoy puzzles completely done and filed into memories forever eternal.
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Dancing in moonlight, taking in every movement with exhilarating feelings, touching deeply, my heartstrings in minor chords of E Flat.
Breathing in imaginative air through passages of yesterday, placating easily, every nerve ending stripped raw by life's trials.
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Staccotoely snapping thoughts in my mind, automatically energizing plenty of ideas and creating them pleasantly in volumes of literature.
Cynically appropriating abstracted definitions, turning them inside out and reusing them with many new details filled out.
Myopically spinning across screens of protrudable thoughts, as words come together and fall out.
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A canopy hung over my head to
contain all that I am and have.
An intense desire to be alone,
to think, to become unknown again.
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Talking with the pool players, laughing, smiling,
pretending to be alive and well.
Inside, I have already died, left without a word
and no one can even tell the difference.
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Wandering down lanes of music,
rocking to the beat,
satisfying me with sweet
smelling melodies,
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