RoseAnn V. Shawiak Poems

Sunday evening concert, Martha singing, beautiful voice - angelic.
Touching our hearts with intense amazement, filling us with a peaceful calm and lighter hearts.
Mixed with a chorus of other people, strobe lights flashing stars and symbols all around the room.
Caught up in the excitement of the moment, everyone jumped to their feet, clapping and singing along.
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Walking around, feeling safe inside,
comfortable with myself for the moment.
A quiet joy stirs in my soul, taking me
on a peaceful journey into contemplative
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Reflections shining into my mind,
lighting thought magically,
unequivocally, peacefully,
so I may let it flow quietly from
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Expansive desires beginning on borders of yesterday, taking hold and securing motions on their way to yesterday's love.
Tackling problems, missing the point aimlessly, as yet again, life takes a turn for the worse.
Yelling past cloudy curtains, looking into rooms of yellowed lace, wishing to find some semblance of old times from the past.
Waving magically as twilight hangs itself in starlit skies above, leading others to distant thoughts of wisdom on dusty trails of old.
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Singly anticipating a solemn avenue on life's road toward eternity, filing good deeds in visions of tomorrow.
Sliding across images, mesmerizing each one in lightened knowledge.
Pushing on, thinking forward, becoming foremost in imagination's subconsciousness.
Allowing for innate talent to be subjected to wisdom's influential behavior.
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Superimposing images onto yesterday's thoughts, enlightening precious gems of creativeness as they are discovered underneath piles of leaves, raked up for inner ideas.
Gathering flexibility, becoming an agile being, testing strength of beginning character while selecting tinsel strands of intelligence to add to a collective repertoire of written meanings, becoming episodes of learning.
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Holding hands, glances, and one another's hearts
in gentle cradles of elderly hopes.
As they pray for someone to share the remainders
of their lives with.
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Walking tightropes of life, wavering in heights of environmental duress.
Existing in plain sight, ineffectual at best, riding through life in a coffin filled with satin and lace.
Shining up ahead, a motorcycle's awaiting my essence.
Stepping and riding into sunsets of existential patterns, set up in pathways of yesterday's images.
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