RoseAnn V. Shawiak Poems

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1351.
Universal Shores

Universally straddling global fences, watching cosmic
issues penetrate daily news with pandemic catholic
abuses from priests and nuns alike.
Planetary movements glide through ubiquitous moments
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1352.
Bluer Pastures

Water cascading off of water fountain falls, soothes
and refreshes my soul with laughter, gentle and calming.
Days and years, filled with stress and hardship, melting
away in a placid space of poetry.
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1353.
Staring Into The Future

Staring out the window, looking at reflections of double images staring back at me.
Watching leaves shaking slightly in the night time breeze.
Mindful of many joyful memories of Mom, tears fill my eyes because she is not home.
Pulling my heart like salt water taffy in all directions, emotions continue to tear me apart.
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1354.
Poverty's Beauty

Empty, vacant lots, standing barren, desolate, forgotten.
So much like the poor are portrayed in every day news and stories.
Yet, never does anyone look beneath poverty, it's joy at times, of very little things.
Staunchly sitting at the edge, looking over, knowing that at the end their situation in life is better than those with lots of money.
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1355.
Interior Life

1356.
Distant Gardens

Pages, turning pages, filtering through sorrow of a lifetime,
so sure of death, all wishing spent with this desire.

Truthfully, never hoping or praying for another day on earth,
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1357.
Sidewalk Travel

Gathering thoughts like leaves on a sidewalk.
Letting them lie there to bring up their own images,
travel their own word-filled journeys.
Running to infinity, sidewalks travel into new horizons
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1358.
Nature Eating

1359.
Stone Dog - Stone Bench

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?
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1360.
Shifting Sands Of Poetry

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
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