RoseAnn V. Shawiak Poems

Eyes rising in this morning, climbing mesquite trees in a
creative mind, seeing shadows of what lies between our
thoughts and reality.
...

Sorting out tempos of rhythms while writing, moving intuitive
melodies right into the middle of everything, exciting, thrill-
ing and feeling wonder now building.
...

Band playing, guitars being strummed slowly, not
sounding so great, drummer beating his drums in-
discriminately, going faster than the guitars.
...

Priceless movement now taking minds quickly and rapidly into
outer spaces of anticipated beauty while feeling an intensity
of an honest portray of life as it needs to be.
...

Cantankerous rhythms playing insolently in pathways of contemplation
as mind and soul fill an interior spirituality of a lifetime in dark-
ness, awaiting upbeats of an ulterior system of notes.
...

Sensing something happening below sounds of rhythms as they
soar and fly out into the atmosphere freely and at liberty
to do whatever they feel like in measures of chords.
...

Mind clicking onto sounds of beautiful colors,
placing them innocently in depths of extra-
sensory perceptions.
...

Evening started off in a song of drummer's beats, lazily enter-
taining the crowd here tonight, resisting stress of the day,
turning turmoil quickly into nothing.
...

Rhythms taking channels of rivers, loving how they meander
along banks of different states, a wonderful and proper
way to enter and enjoy musical interludes.
...

Shallow puddles in life, giving people a reason to splash
and have some childish fun, exploring interior images of
what our inner child is doing.
...