RoseAnn V. Shawiak
Ideas falling, dropping like lead upon my brow, untamed,
blindly careening down channels, left behind.
Screening waves of lightened wisdom, rolled along in
aging wheelchairs of past indignities.
Untouched sadness hidden behind straight-backed chairs,
Unqualified on recent developments, unchartered steps of
Speaking indecisively of thought processes, stranded in
lamps of light beyond.
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Comments about this poem (Untamed Ideas by RoseAnn V. Shawiak )
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