RoseAnn V. Shawiak Poems

Violins playing, making me feel good, filling me with joy and love.
Taking my senses into another world - one of my imagination.
A fascinating journey into another dimension where no one can follow unless I lead them through my poetry.
A lifetime passion, fulfilled every waking hour.
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Intense peace filling my mind as I write, taking in stride, everything I see before me.
A sadness emptying my heart, creating a void, a hole, that no matter how much I write, it never will get filled.
Keeping me on edges of consciousness, aware of only what is going on within me.
Taking solace, practicing bereavement through all hours of the day, hoping to somehow reach an agreement with myself.
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Reading people as I sit and watch all that goes on, describing feelings and attitudes as they appear in my mind.
Writing adjacently, behaviors come into view readily and shine light upon every thought that fits into a vision of the people I see.
Poetry calls everything briefly into itself, falling in line with what I write.
Tears and sorrow inevitably come from between each line without being realized until they cascade down waterfalls of truth and honesty in life's environment.
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Winding around mountainous canyons,
delving into them with curiosity and wonder,
digging up beautiful rhetoric and expressions.
Soul-defying epics, wrapping themselves in mystery,
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Setting life to poetical works and etudes, studying sides never or rarely seen through anyone's eyes.
Yet, as seen through eyes of a poet, all of life takes on new light, keenly sensitive to all emotion and unspoken words.
Carefully taking in all sides of sensitivity, charging full force into gales swept over us by perfect storms, enveloping each of us in individual circumstances, causing havoc in all situations, researching
so many ideas at once.
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Returning time and again to past ideas set
in memories and held onto for a lifetime.
Serious prescriptions of abstractions,
handled with care and placed candidly inside
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Dreaming in mid-afternoon,
watching illusive categories and
peace-filled repertoires file past
in exciting attitudes of appreciation.
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Journeying through life, having adventures, discovering new things, inventing some of my own.
Always writing, creating new avenues of literature, while seeing the world around me so much differently than most.
From one moment to another, feelings and thoughts are changed - rearranged.
Just a reflection, sound, person, nature, makes a difference in what I write seconds at a time.
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Alone in a saddened plight,
people all around,
yet not one knows that I'm sitting here,
sobbing inside silently,
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