RoseAnn V. Shawiak
Floor Of Poetry
Delicate patterns are being beaten into my mind with staccato-like hammering notes.
All the commotion waking me interiorly to an energetic kind of rhythm. Taking me by the mind, out onto the floor of poetry, giving me plenty of music and room to do my thing in the way I want.
Loving it's feeling, pounding in my being, giving me a movement, pushing me forward into the night.
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The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
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Edgar Allan Poe
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William Ernest Henley
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