Gathering Poetry

Notwithstanding, elements of time disappear before me,
reappearing in rhymes of sort.

Distinguished lines, standing on their own, developing
ideas and thoughts on merits of inner awakenings.

Colliding with extremes of life, at opposite ends of
a mind, contrarily setting new images to block the view.

Antagonizing the existence of imagination, causing it
to delve into unexplained and unexplored denizens hiding
within.

Blooming into ecstatic byways, creating a paradise for
imaginings to become anew, like diamonds gently falling
in quiet succession from this mind's hand.

Selecting, rearranging, gathering all jewels into rhyming
poetry, to be read sometime in the future by another person
after I am dead.

by RoseAnn V. Shawiak

Comments (1)

Aloha RoseAnn.. like diamonds gently falling in quiet succession from this mind's hand. Eloquent and so deliciously offered... developing ideas and thoughts on merits of inner awakenings... How those better bards wish, yet fail to will, a better work of words... I know well the caustic nature of a perceivable flow of words, failing to ignite a line or stanza... much less continuing on to complete the wholesome gist or punning jest of a higher quality write... And this particular ending... heroic in simplicity... an and then you're done way of escaping your trials and triumphs'... My bet is this... one in hundred million would suggest this as enough... The majority of journeymen or women would kill for the skill to weave these larger and more complicated works... My wish is for the best to come, and boat loads of it... All of the best from this life, to you, and all of your relations... Michaelw1two