RoseAnn V. Shawiak
Waiting for the last call of the night,
being drowned out instead by a crowd of
people totally enjoying their time
together - even if they're strangers when
they first start out.
All at once, turning and blaring into space,
inventing new steps in sequence.
Formulating syncopation freely and easily
with no strings being attached.
Waltzing quickly into hallways of retractive
Collecting the end of misused life
RoseAnn V. Shawiak's Other Poems
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Comments about this poem (Last Call by RoseAnn V. Shawiak )
Did you read them?
- Saturated, RoseAnn V. Shawiak
- I would never hurt you, The Princess is
- One Mode of Mortal Devotion, William Park
- Glow worm, Mark Heathcote
- FOOT STEPS, Harold R Hunt Sr
- The Highest Human Virtue Surprisingly Is.., Mr. Nobody
- Time Marches on, Harold R Hunt Sr
- Our First Day, Harold R Hunt Sr
- Another Day, Harold R Hunt Sr
- Who Am I?, Harold R Hunt Sr
Poem of the Day
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
- Heather Burns
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(31 May 1819 - 26 March 1892)
(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616)
- Henry Wadsworth Longfellow