RoseAnn V. Shawiak Poems

Scientifically researching every connotation, every inflection of superfluous statements.
Interceding quietly on rhetorical questions of fate.
Interested in formulas and equations placed in front of imagination's screen, portraying explicit items realizing clues always pointing futurely.
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Soundly listening to shores of beyond, focusing on their beauty and intensity as they lap upon my mind, ebbing and neaping, carrying me softly away in tides of remorseful grief.
Touching every fiber like a harp being played in a requiem mass, signifying a return to an after life.
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Smiling faces upon a stage, elderly talent waiting to be shared with everyone.
Exuding happiness, excited people, waiting to showcase their voices and talent.
Peculiar antics and flowery phrases entertaining us all on a Wednesday morning.
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Sensations of timeless love twitter along
lanes and down myriads of rose bushes,
scenting the atmosphere, filling twilight
evenings with an aging beauty, lasting forever.
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Thoughtless encounters placate interior motives for a short while, yet begin to move forward in a haphazard pattern.
Wringing memories with many designs, traipsing away on solo journeys of temporary abatement.
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Courage stoically finding itself interiorly as it builds a dwelling to become in.
Scorchingly burning as it turns from ordinary events and becomes a bigger part of future presences.
Nearing execution of brave-like tendencies on the way towards elevated opinions of others of themselves.
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Ocotillo blossoms, like little orange heads at ends of arms, twisting and turning, capturing patterns of nature for all to see.
Green thorns spiraling through the atmosphere, attempting to grasp hold of anything to anchor themselves on earth's flagrant desert shores.
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Rocking through deserts on horseback, reliving spiritual exercises from the past.
Creating images tantamount to calmer energies on roads of destiny.
Folding and unfurling each aspect of self, continuing to exist inside a labyrinth.
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Lost in a forsaken dream of life, exacting familiar visions from the tarmac of reality.
Intently thinking, being so very habitual as I succumb to death's nearest horizon.
Sleepily focusing on what I'd like to be doing as I silently fall asleep on the next horizon.
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Watching drums fall carefully into my mind, keeping time with my inner experiences and destiny.
Totaling many efforts of past inclinations while moving, swaying, dancing in a frill of music, holding onto a peace sincerely felt inside.
Deeply held beliefs being carried interiorly towards fate's doors.
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