RoseAnn V. Shawiak Poems

Like an apple on a tree, waiting to be picked, selected,
knowing I will soon fall to my knees under the apple tree.

Wasted, unwanted, abandoned in this life as I lay on the
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Broken-hearted, still, saddened by this day of life, there
being no one to understand or guide me along the way, walking
unsurely in the path of darkness - no one will light the way.
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Breaking leaves of the past, crumpling them into a million
pieces, stomping on them, trying to pound them into oblivion
so they can never be seen again.
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Confusion saddens, fills me with pain, I cannot get past
it's hurt.

No answers are brought out into the open, no forums to talk
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Violence of nature is felt inside of me tonight, frustrated,
with no where to go, anger rises, boils, rages, wants to be
let go.
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Never counting minutes of existence from beginning to end,
for they are of no importance to anyone until the end is
in sight.
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Leaving myself in corridors of empty spaces, leading nowhere.

Same old images flow into the interior rhythms encased in the
bottoms of pitiful distances.
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Wooden footprints stepping down long trails that take
me deeply into remembrances of collective times no
longer here in life.
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Taking steps around the room, bringing us with it's rhythm
into a happier mood.

Striding in hallways, leaving others to find their own beats
...

Patterns of reality are forming in the designs being imparted
on this side of life.

Realizing pieces falling again onto certain rhythms, calling
...