RoseAnn V. Shawiak Poems

Pruning a tree - even the good parts must be cut away -
pruned - so the tree will bear good fruit.

Thus in our lives, people whom we love with all our
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Looking up and out of inner prison bars, hearing voices
being carried from afar.

Listening to birds talking, weeds rustling, all things
...

Wind blowing cattails and ragweed to and fro.
Marching to a rhythm that no one else can know.

Spiders crawling eight-legged up the walls,
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Black smoke hurtling through the sky,
marking the blaze of a fire below.

Curling, ever upwards, not afraid of
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Skating around the edge of life, trying to not get involved.

Hoping for some recognition, yet not doing anything to solve
the problem.
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Looking out from within me, teaching His ways silently,
reaching out into the world, seeing people, God helps
me to know what to do.
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Holding hands through dimensions of time, trying to grasp
friendship which has surpassed this world.

Folding in upon many memories of love and caring, the
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Rolling hills of grass supporting trees in their lives of
beauty.

Covering their fragile roots with blankets only they can
...

Outside the walls of human making, God brings to my ears,
voices raised in song and praise to Him, lovely, gentle,
just like the love of Jesus to our souls.
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Filtering through the ages, love is handed down from
generation to generation, fulfilling God's promises
to us.
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