RoseAnn V. Shawiak Childhood Poems

Swinging in a swing of childhood on Tullo Road,
thinking of my Dad and Mom in a childhood filled
with poverty, happiness and nature.
All-important messages in childhood growing up.
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Waving gently like seaweed in the ocean, willow trees sway
slowly in an afternoon breeze.
Silently lifting spirits with their peaceful, serene manner.
Sunlight sliding on and off their expedient leaves.
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Soaring into heaven, wings gliding with air currents in
the atmosphere.

Winding along clouds and out of sight, taking pathways
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Playing back and forth in backyards of a mind, remembering
childhood games that were always invented to play with my
sisters and brother.
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Wispy willows blowing through my mind, touching yesterday's
childhood with gentle thought and an elite finesse.

Taking care to not drop one iota or particle into caverns
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Mysterious and intriguing music from the Godfather
taking me back to childhood, living with my mafia
family.
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In younger days of life, finding self amidst nature and
always enjoying being alone within it.

Climbing trees, hanging upside down, running everywhere,
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Twigs poking my memories, bringing them to the forefront so I may see the beautiful willow trees of home when I was just a child.
Their long slender fingers grazing the lawn, hiding me behind them, because I didn't want to be found at times by anyone.
Turning towards the trunk, touching it's bark and lifting myself into the branches of it's arms, wanting to be held by mother nature.
Always feeling safe and secure in their hold, not ever wanting to climb back down.
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Cornering aspects of life in everyday realities, surrendering to overly expectant promises, tallying experiences like slices of bread in loaves at hand.
Pacing selves according to beliefs held from childhood.
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Remembering Bound Brook, New Jersey, my very own Mayberry, R.F.D.
A small town bordered by brooks - a beautiful place to live and grow.
Living with my Grandmother, parents, Aunts and Uncles we had a happy time together.
Grandma was from Mierto, Sicily and spoke broken English.
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Cloudy skies fill my eyes with memories of old.
Childhood years back in New Jersey, full of
happiness - carefree and wonderful.
Grandparents, Aunts, Uncles, cousins, lots of
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Whiling away moments, writing from inner sanctums, holding closely, ideals from childhood.
In blistering heat, watching envelopes being opened and read - all said in pictures of yesterday.
Everything, sounds, tones, voices, feelings, visions, images - all photographically placed indelibly forever.
Characters portrayed, conversations remembered word for word - never forgotten.
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Covering eyelets of evening, shading corresponding
lights, rotating and pivoting with changing high-
lights of remembering.
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When in grade school in New Jersey, there was never any
distinguishing remarks given about race or color.

We all went to school together, rode the same bus, talked
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Twisted and gnarled beyond recognition, a childhood sits
faded.

No laughter, joy, or colorful sights, just a childhood
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Pursuing the idleness of memories, tip toeing through hallways
afraid of waking them, afraid of the remorse which will pour
forth consciously.
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Noting the effects of drum beats as they continually beat
along with my heart, taking life down alleys and back
streets, looking for paths to heavenly enlightenment.
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Swinging from a tree, childhood tunes running through my
mind, clearing cobwebs of the past, green and beautiful,
grass covering the soil like a velvet blanket.
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Remembering dogwood flowers blossoming upon the mountaintop
where we lived when just a child, cherry, mulberry, pear and
apple trees on our property ready to eat anytime we were hungry.
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Watching snow and ice form within an imaginary reality
being created this very moment, able to reproduce what
was seen as a child living in New Jersey.
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Hustling into one adventure after another, seeing compromises
that want a part in the writing of life's story.

Reminding and being reminded of the innocence of childhood
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Listless, somber, at a loss without rhythmic music at this
poet's beck and call, watching the horizon as people come
and go in this life.
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Standing at attention during the pledge of allegiance at a
flag ceremony, filled with patriotic pride and joy, because
of living in the greatest country in the world.
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Music playing, frolicking, teasing us with by-gone melodies
of Gilligans Island.

Moving on to the Clampett family as they sang of Beverly Hills,
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Journeying across the country in this mind, remembering
everything across all the states that I traveled through.

Majestic, fantastic and innovative lands of America the
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Childhood dreams can sometimes be realized, if realistic from the
beginning.
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Looking towards the sun shining brightly through my mind,
watching it's rays spread evenly across the land.
Burning brighter as it rises higher in the sky.
Titillating memories of childhood, playing in the yard,
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Hanging around, finalizing all plans, pending the demise of my inner spirit, as it heads into skyways of heaven.
Reminiscing over all the years, being held in confinement by childhood emotions.
Capturing my attention early in life and holding me indefinitely with powers of fear.
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Silently biding time in this earthly life, enjoying gifts
given by God, Himself through music, writing and art,
putting self aside constantly just to write.
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Lights on, music, action, and timely rhythms coming
and going on carousels of innocence and childhood
that we adults are always trying to recapture again.
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Looking through cards from holiday and event of yesterday,
bringing tears to mind when one is from my parents who've
been gone for years.
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Watching images of myself as I played as a child with my
sisters and brother.

A totally unique experience, filling me with an appreciation
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Foaming rage, turbulent, unrelenting, bubbling inside,
ready to explode.

Contained merely by a whim, afraid to give in to it,
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Alone, sitting, watching from a distance, little children
playing on slides and monkey bars.

Hearing animated talk and spontaneous laughter, enjoying
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Swinging from tree branches in my mind, enjoying childhood
that has now passed by, except in these intense memories
where I can relive them whenever I want.
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Scratching the surface, revealing life inside.

Tormented by a past that buries itself in ashes,
from fires burning angrily still.
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Remembering all the fun of childhood,
running around on the front lawn,
getting rained on in a summer rainstorm.
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Magnificent creations in the sky before me, a work of
art, using clouds and sun.

Exquisite beauty spread from end to end, as far as my
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Walking among memories in an open mind, enjoying those of child-
hood, their pure innocence and beauty while also having an innate knowledge and wisdom way beyond years at a very young age.

Enjoying learning, having a vivid energy that takes this
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Snow falling into this poetical imagination as I write of
it's beauty spreading across inner stretches of intellect,
landing in drifts up against thoughts like trees in the
forest.
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Clapping and stomping feet, laughter filling the air all around us as everyone continues dancing and having fun.

Listening and recalling the beauty of childhood designs, bringing back the simplicity that we once knew and wish we'd never left the safety and security of family.
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Jumping rope with fast rhythms, diving into childhood once again, feeling the pure innocence of being young and unconcerned with life.

Just always accepting our lots in life, at least for now, having a persistent moment of a perpetual motion as a drummer, guitars coming into the mix, altogether making the band sound so great.
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Spirits marching in time, stepping into steps of former
heavenly precedents.
Lowly sounding music, peeking out from a secretive corner,
in a mind of poetical delivery.
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Reminders of childhood keep resurfacing throughout life
in the form of music, rhythms, and songs sung by Dad
while growing up.
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Remembrance lying in my mind, watching memories slide by,
bringing feelings into view with intensity and verve.
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Beautiful white flowers on a branch, placed in a vase
of water, after having been cut from their childhood
abode - a tree.
Dogwood flowers reminding images of New Jersey a long
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Swaggering invisibly through ponderous volumes of life, involving therapeutic ideas of complacency, while investigating purposes and truths of every day living -
with trouble on minds of strife.
Tranquilly anticipating moods of being, life pivots and
turns at every missing corner.
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Childhood being wasted on grown-up dreams of business,
as children sit around awaiting decisions that never
come.
Adults too busy to notice the broken dreams of a
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