RoseAnn V. Shawiak Poems

11: 01 a.m.
My heart is filled with ghosts of love that filled it
once upon a time, now all have become just disappearing
ghosts of death's embrace.
...

Defining things from what we know, gained through
experiences of our lives while we are living.

What of our experiences of dying, how exactly are
...

Two little boys filled with excitement, thrilling to
the music being played as they dance and make up their
own moves and steps to beats and rhythms.
...

Hopping up and down, feeling joy that's being filtered
through this being from harmonies and melodies, contin-
uing practicing their intense flavors of color within.
...

Riding through dusty trails of an Arizona desert, back in
the saddle again, delivering thoughts along with streams
of fast-paced rhythms.
...

There are people in this world who don't care about others,
using them, draining them completely, not being there for
someone they've only taken advantage of through the years.
...

Nostalgic and serene, taking intellect into realms of an
inner dimension, yet being aware of all the people here,
smiling, talking, meeting others of like minds.
...

Whining for life as we search for it's beginnings only
here at it's ending.

All of life placed in measures of time, yet we have
...

Walking rhythmically in unison, doing line dances together,
having fun and traipsing into places of enjoyment that seem
to tempt and taunt everyone.
...