RoseAnn V. Shawiak Poems

Placing trust in others shouldn't happen,
because they will waylay it somewhere along the way.
Mistrusting every motive is a necessary beatitude in life.
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Settling for nothing, wanting everything simple, ordinary, compact, to fit in with what I enjoy without placing a burden on me.
Being free to be myself, expressing what I feel to my heart's content.
Explicit definitions, meanings I can alter to my liking, speaking to my mind alone.
Access to whatever I choose in my own time, happily selecting time-honored thoughts as they begin to unwind and churn inside my brain, charging neurons, growing all synapses into wiring of expectant thought, as I walk into my imagination, gradually uniting spirit, soul, heart, mind and being.
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Dreams fulfilling empty spaces with hopeful ideas, not knowing that it can never be any good in the long run.
Running alongside stair wells, never being able to climb them, holding onto a banister as it disappears from your grasp, because it was never really there for you to hold onto.
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Showering my being with blessings from heaven, keeping me hopeful even as the world shatters around me.
Holding on to a preface of life, wondering if destiny will play it's part, as my being gives up itself to death overnight.
Hanging onto a major portion of quiet stillness in a handful of prayer, contemplating where I will be going in the near future.
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Stranded in a land of unknown fears, wondering where life will leave me, hesitant to surmise.
Totally wrapped in tissue paper, afraid to move too fast, because I may fall apart, shatter hard against fate as it revolves in a timely manner without my knowledge.
Living in a quandary of thought, not knowing whether I should give up sooner rather than later.
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Summer gusts of wind, blowing my mind in all directions, finding my way into many dimensions of mathematical formulas.
Accelerating toward pathways of ingenuity, hoping I may attain a breath of fresh air before I expire in a cloud of dust.
Seasoning nature as it falls into line with becoming attitudes of stubbornness, hanging onto life lines of believing so I may pass from earth to the hereafter without missing a beat of my heart in spacious moments of life.
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Feeling defeated, dejected, abysmally hopeless in a situation of life, diminishing ineptitude, alone in a perfect storm, looking for the lull I expect to come.
Abnormally, it isn't in the forecast and I continue to rain on my mind, as it cleanses itself in poetical precision, blending with an intellect of poison, inscribed with a tattoo of pious forgetfulness.
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Staring into starlit skies, wondering if I'll ever be able to travel to their spaces.
Thoughtful interludes creep into my mind as I figure out how I can move about without oxygen or gravity.
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Sitting alone, thinking about nothing and everything at once.
Separating and blending every abstracted thought, connecting each one to musical notes filled with colorful emotions and memories etched in photographic pictures of thought.
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