RoseAnn V. Shawiak Poems

Soothing harmonies settling in my brain, giving me time to reminisce about all things yesterday.
Being in the moment, watching images as they proceed to act out what I
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Justifying my place here on earth, rain pouring itself over me,
filling up my loneliness, emptiness, abandonment with tears to cry when I want.
Yet, they won't do, because I need so much more than what I have been given.
Fracturing my thoughts with lightening striking me down.
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Black clouds tainting blue skies, trying to stay and rain upon earth.
Fighting constantly with the sun, a battle of the ages, begun centuries ago.
No one ever really wins, but it's an adventure to behold whenever I see it happening.
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Exaggerating the world around me, trying to find something that actually has some meaning.
Everything I look at seems to have an ulterior movement, as I go deeper inside inherent thoughts to see what, if anything, is being brought up.
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Shadows of me, hiding in deserted corners of the planet earth, not wanting to be found or talked to today.
Isolating myself in order to deal with life and it's twists and turns, battling everyday stress and strife.
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Sensing something deeper to existence than what we can actually see.
Experimenting with thoughts and ideas, visiting hidden areas of my brain.
Training focus on bringing them out of their cocoons - contributing capably and fully to aid in accomplishing great literature for the future.
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Striking matches in my mind, illuminating corners of intellect that insist on hiding from me right now.
Wondering at their shyness after all this time, peaking my curiosity into upper echelons of freedom.
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Watching rhythms melt into my mind and soul, taking them gently into their tender care.
Loving feelings soothing me throughout, relaxing, enjoying the effects of melodies saturating me.
All of life escapes through these beautiful rhythms as I breathe in all of their wonderful aromas.
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Taking time to begin a new sensation through poetical ideas,
cleansing the past with a band-aid of sorts, covering up old wounds,
disinfecting their interference in today's world.
Giving preoccupation it's due while unclinging it's virtue.
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Scurrilous people think I'm an easy mark, that they can control me in some way.
When it doesn't happen, they get mad, because I don't respond or listen to their orders.
Being my own person, free, independent, smart, walking away to take my lonesome journey without anyone forcing themselves upon me.
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