RoseAnn V. Shawiak Poems

Drumming to an inner rhythm, taking over life giving essences with powdery blue energy.
Sating every fiber of being with an extra particle of beauty and factors of writing.
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Records of the past play in my mind, bringing images back to the forefront, designing new environments to begin again.
Handling everything with moody dispositions, figuring out destiny in portals of time.
Cascading along, traveling in many directions, according to whims of fate.
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Clouds moving across the sky,
meeting up with others drifting along.
Gathering their skirts,
forming a newly-made rain storm in flight.
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Death seeks me out, but I pray not yet, I still have several important things to start or finish.
Tapping on my mind's windows, reminding me of their presence, not wanting me to forget they're there.
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Considering rhythms stirring interiorly, blending with those of life and it's plentitude.
Sacrificing and being alone through everything, keeping sanity tucked hiddenly within, holding onto every aspect of suffering, for in it wisdom can always be found.
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Rotating along avenues of imagination, seeing entire aspects of thought as it wends itself into abstractions.
Waltzing itself toward meanings of poetical words, lining melodies to join in, creating a joyous journey of ideas.
Fulfilling desires within to make sense somehow of life and it's puzzles.
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Incessant music, blatantly touching fibers and particles, partaking in a manner of pleasant retributes of beauty.
Sounding reverberations soaring through bubbly hopes and dreams of never-ending bliss.
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Garbled answers attempting to make themselves heard through centuries of questions.
Rhetoric betraying past fissures in plates of armor, are now fastened to a picturesque nature, as life flows downhill forever towards oceans of life's lessons.
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Life is a precarious ledge that we hang from,
hoping to gain ground as we grow older.
It never happens and trials continue to abound,
shortening our holds on everyday life.
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Sheltering a child, being who she is as I climb through life, always uphill.
Occasionally sliding beneath it's muddy catastrophes where I often hope to finally die, without recourse.
Standing past death's shadow, yet reaching for it constantly.
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