RoseAnn V. Shawiak Poems

The two separately are stone - they're cold - they have no meaning beyond what they are - a bench - a dog.
Yet, if you were to take that dog and put him on the bench, it would take on meaning for you.
(Well, you're even calling the dog a him now!)
In life's situations how many times have we had two directions to take and couldn't decide which way to go?
...

Rocking and rolling down life's precious avenues of forgiveness,
hoping it will touch me in the near future.
Appearing before me, a song in twilight, beckoning me to follow.
When I do, I run into my friend and we move on together, never to
...

Soothing lotion of music comforting me, placating my
soul with energized senses and soulful occupations.
Over mountainous plains and desert oceans, turning
corners and finding adventure at every turn.
...

Flowing upon the water, walking through sand dunes of my mind,
gentle breezes blowing, constantly shifting the sands, never allowing
it to be the same as it once had been.
Always throughout my life, shifting sands will create poetry and give
...

Staring within, searching for patterns and images,
scanning many interior horizons with immeasurable
success.
Listening to tunes sounded out by birds in trees,
...

Shredding the facets of empty pockets, giving me no peace or truth
to contend with.
Treating self to adjacent positions, altering everything that's been
given posthumously.
...

Life is based on numbers of age, birthdates, doctor appointments, anniversaries, graduations, deaths.
We are all mathematical concepts and formulas
conjuring up our separate particles of being.
Components of analytical physics and chemistry, we mathematically formulate ourselves and our futures.
...

Gentle breezes brush my heart and soul,
soothing them with natural wonder and beauty.
Love emanating throughout the atmosphere,
rejuvenating hospice staff and volunteers.
...

Regrettably this day is not over, it sits distastefully on my
mind, clouding mirrors of my soul.
Dark fortresses cannot relieve the overflow of despair, rainbows
will not color themselves for pleasure.
...

Looking for things to see inside, searching corners hidden from
sight, hoping to find something recognizable and filled with
worth.
Hampered by the past, groping in darkness and unfamiliar ways,
...