RoseAnn V. Shawiak Running Poems

Totally exhausted, here I sit, wishing I were back in bed.
Going all over town, running errands has got me down.
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Listening quietly to music playing my heartstrings with
talented musicians at the helm.
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Jumping to attention, filling in empty squares with thought
running in circular directions, keeping closely to rhetoric
and rhythmic rhymes.
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Running away from awful feelings of abandonment, meeting self instead, within melodies always playing in my head.
Composing musical etudes, setting patterns of music in abstracted forms of wisdom.
Turning whatever I think in outer spaces and bringing it coherently into forms of poetry and rhapsodies of life.
Entering contemplative exercises alone, where no one may follow or peek at what I'm doing.
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Running inside, hiding away from a love being professed honestly
and purely from a heart of truth, caring and compassion, our
hearts beating in unison even though at times I run from it.
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Guitars wailing into the night, as time runs around
the face of a clock, traipsing through measures of
time.
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Skipping, jumping, dancing to rhythms as they slow down
then speed up to match the beats of those dancing on
stage.
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Looking into the sky, heavy white clouds, cumulus, black
clouds promising rain throughout the day, reminding this
poet of childhood in New Jersey.
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A lone tree standing in the middle of a mall, here at
Desert Ridge, children now running circles around it,
enjoying its presence in their young lives.
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Rhythms balancing, titillating heart and spirit as they pick up speed and run away with its positive senses and feelings, moving into interior realms of an intense spirituality.

Skipping around like a child, bringing feelings of joy and excitement into the midst of thoughts merging and blend-
ing in with creative ideas, as they play interiorly all the time.
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Up and about, taking everything joyfully into my heart and
soul, leaving nothing to the death of life, forecasting and
relating the best particles that will tell the story.
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People running races through the years, trying to catch up
with themselves as days and nights are kept closely in their
memories of a fateful destiny as life continues to breathe
in and out of our souls.
...

Time's slipping away faster and faster every day,
always wondering how it gets by me when writing.

Trying to keep up with rhythms in measures of
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Rippling effects of life circumstances wash over me like
waves of the ocean, constantly cleansing and purifying
my mind of emotions and feelings.
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Rhythms singing loudly in the afternoon sun, a cool mist
flowing, being blown by the wind, softly giving a tantal-
izing melody to intellect.
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Been here listening to Kelli Ward, stepping up to the
establishment, letting them know that they are now done,
finding that Kelli has done her homework quite well.
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Eternity's seconds measuring the time of life left to live
in fulfillment and unkempt glory.

Rising above the heights, cascading down the mountainsides
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Scurrying across the desert like a rabbit running from
it's deadly enemy.

Not able to stop, being afraid of what will happen if
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Wide open spaces, enough room for an adult, yet a child
is so much smaller and runs their hearts out, back and
forth in the waiting room.
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Coming full cycle, throttle opened wide, steering straight
towards a wide range of mountains.

Seeing the environment settled into an inner view of life-
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Running from edges of situations in life, not wanting to deal with their worries right now.
Just wanting to be free - rid of the turmoil caused by other people not wanting to deal with their own problems.
Instead, pulling us down with their inane expectations of us.
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Pouring over thoughts, running through my mind,
looking closely at their images.
Scanning them from beneath and behind to make
them more interesting on different levels and
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