RoseAnn V. Shawiak Poems

Journeying through life, having adventures, discovering new things, inventing some of my own.
Always writing, creating new avenues of literature, while seeing the world around me so much differently than most.
From one moment to another, feelings and thoughts are changed - rearranged.
Just a reflection, sound, person, nature, makes a difference in what I write seconds at a time.
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Alone in a saddened plight,
people all around,
yet not one knows that I'm sitting here,
sobbing inside silently,
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Piano playing always in my mind, setting music to whatever I happen to see.
Painting picturesque pictures of all that I make up in subconscious dreams.
Holding hands with nighttime thoughts, using flashlights to constructively focus on each image that appears on my mind's screen. Always aiming everything onto colors, pasted on top of extremes in life's reality.
Located in the foreground of peaceful serenity, being contemplated in formulas of exact precision.
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Picturesque scenery sketched in books of my mind,
remembered through all time in bluened lights
sent from heaven's abode.
Keeping time with self, delivering definitions of
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Fascinating, magical, beautiful pictures appearing on screens,
awaiting thought's abstracted mind-bending ideas.
Filtering an existence created from musical abysses,
seeing the extensive process that allows me to keep on writing
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Circling life with an energy contained within,
holding onto every thought as it finds an area
to spread itself out, locating a space to fit
and being put to use on many daily tasks.
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Lightly scented music, playing lovingly to intellect.
Aromas of vanilla seeping into imagination, relaxing
my being and energizing thoughts in exacting order.
Tantalizing odors oozing slowly around my space in the
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Serenading thoughts with uplifting tempos,
taking me into dimensions where melodies
are shaped and fitted to my expectations.
They're formed around my consciousness and
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Caressing intellect, soothing it from everyday stress, taking care to feed it with atmospheres and landscapes anew.
Following arrows, showing directions in capable avenues of writing.
Slanting patterns being twisted to fit moods and general attitudes.
Chords matching tones of words as they remember their places in outlines of poetry.
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Scrambling words, locating them in disorderly
fashion.
Pasting them onto pages of interior books,
being written as each day begins a new dawn.
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