RoseAnn V. Shawiak Poems

Trodding along, watching for details never seen before.
Tracing leaves in the wind, leveling destinations
unknown on dimensions, fulfilling yesterday's dreams.
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Keeping touch with rhythms
of undercover melodies.

Acquiescing matters of the
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Somnolently greeting me at an entrance to secondary imagination.
Grinding open slowly, peeking around the corner as tones come melting outside the doors of my mind.
Excusing nothing, delivering an open mind and allowing it entrance now to a ninth dimension.
Unfurling itself in an Arabic song filled with an ancient harmony, distancing me from an iridescent opal.
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Feeling close to someone who's a friend of quiet respect, taking in every aspect from every direction, trying to understand how I write so he can pass it on to his significant other.
As usual, I'm a puzzle with no solution that anyone can find or locate.
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Flinging off robes of evening, dressing and going to church on a hazy Sunday morning.
Praying, lighting candles, asking God to please send help in this desperate situation, I've found myself in.
Walking quietly down the aisle towards the altar, seeing my Lord standing there before me, giving me a sign of future answers being given.
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Trotting down trails, a cowboy yodeling to his cattle.
Singing calmly, yodeling far and wide.
Calls of the wild herd, looking askance at the reactions of every steer, glancing at one another in utter amazement of what is being sung to round them up.
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Strumming slowly downward, touching chords laid back in postures of relaxation.
Timing being impeccable, precise beats falling down strings of beauty as a guitar is being played in solo depths of beautiful inner landscapes.
Painted by the melodies being played quietly in able pivoting rehearsal through the night.
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Softened petals of beating notes, fragrantly adding depth to any poetry I write, while listening to an inner song, especially being sung straight to my soul.
Wanting very much to hold on to it forever, yet knowing I must let go to travel far into yonder horizons, past the setting sun.
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Hiding behind drifts of snow, watching activities going on around us with wonder.
Stillness, watching us as we leisurely rest in pockets of genuine love.
At last, we choose to get up and walk down plowed lanes, towards the top of the mountain, seeing icicles hanging from trees, dripping into memory's mind.
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Slow, silent expressions of love found in another person, bringing happiness and joy to an aching heart.
Loving the feelings of belonging that are filling me with an elated inner spirit.
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