Senses Standing On End Poem by RoseAnn V. Shawiak

Steady rhythm standing on end, giving life the
many extensions of pure definitions in prose.
Pious diction filling pages with it's faithful
illusions to all the good on this earth.
Showing the steadfast pictures of interior peace
and justifying the assurance of intense meanings.
Following pathways into forests darkened by the
night in still eerie thoughts.
Feeling the senses standing on end, and being
careful as I go through the images left in piles
along darkened corridors of yesterday, belonging
to no one in particular.