RoseAnn V. Shawiak Creative Poems

Centers of the universe fill my mind with questions,
wanting to know what they consist of.

Physically made from gases, rocks, shale, granite,
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Going through hell in life, being put through the wringer
time and again, finding creative ways in which to control
stress and turmoil being poured upon this being from the
outside and other people.
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Rummaging through thoughts, looking for their beginnings,
finding loose threads dangling from lines of prose, want-
ing to sew them back.
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Walking slowly through the seasoning of music, listening
to tenuous and striated rhythms while writing, seeing an
interior beauty that flows through the atmosphere.
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Smoky filled room, lights gyrating and spreading across
the floors and walls.

Band upon the stage, playing straight and even, their
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Racing into this bright and early morning with an
outlook of vibrant and lively attitudes.

Nothing stopping me from living every moment filled
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Sitting, contemplating on differences of people and
their attitudes.

Wondering how they developed and came about, how they
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Fatalistically nurturing thoughts of creative suicide
on lonely days of grief, I prepare also, for my future
deathbed of respite.
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Children experiencing life with caring parents, taking the time to be close and important in their lives.
Stretching hours of every day, holding onto memories of families as they grow to adulthood in time.
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Surrendering to a creative mind and intellect in all areas
and directions in this life, the essence and passion of
living a poetical moment in every single minuteof life.
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Walking into depths of a creative nature, looking
at all the beauty and wonder that God has created
for each of us.
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Capturing the attention of a creative poet isn't hard
at all, just turn on music and its rhythms will do the
rest, translating notes, tempos and sounds into poetry.
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Reckless and unwilling to coincide with normal tides of life,
preferring to create new and different paths and avenues into
the future.
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People have the strangest notions in life, always
thinking the worst of other people, yet thinking
they're themselves perfect.
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Skipping along through life, taking creative and musical
pathways throughout the years.

Noticing every single detail along the way, separating
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Wanting only moments of love with you, our hearts in
synch, playing a duet through our souls.

Whispers coming from heaven as angels look down upon
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Creative solutions in life are in my opinion the
best.

All aspects of a problem are examined, explored,
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Sometimes when listening to music, seeing great art or
hearing a poem, a violent, silent chill runs electricity
through my entire body.
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There are no words to speak, so songs to sing, earth is silent,
filled with awe and wonder.

Taking care not to utter a whisper, watching in serene quiet,
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Compositions flow eternally from creative juices,
always present in a mind's imagination.
Ebbing into energetic forces, bringing beauty
from nature into poetical rhymes.
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Living in a reality of life here on earth, being creative,
using innate gifts of music, poetry, painting, depending
upon innate knowledge and wisdom.
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Enthusiastic and energetic, living for melodies and rhythms
that coincide with life and all of it's attributes.

Loving it all, taking my mind into realms of intellect and
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Realizing times of life are changing, rearranging
time left, before expiring in a haze of creative
mist.
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Twisting, turning, tapping, enjoying an array of
poetical music as it tampers playfully with heart
and soul, inside.
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Standing still, wonder and awe filling me completely,
leaving nothing but a creative imagination filled with
fantasy and reality being blended together.
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Walking quietly down streets of intellect, testing many
different avenues of thinking without missing a single
beat, throwing self totally into every ounce of pleasure.
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Slamming to beats of a lightening fast tempo, keeping up
while writing alongside it, a tantalizing and alluring
benefit of being a creative entity.
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Reading my mind through depths of a photographic memory,
an exceptional and fascinating way of using a creative
process through imagination.
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Circular sounds spiraling around in my mind, tapping
out rhythms as they play.

Listening to the mysterious tones being coded as I
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Movements and rhythms both culminating in pictures
of thought, allowing me to write poetically.

Loving motions happening all around in the environ-
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Blessings fall from the sky,
alighting on minds of creative silence,
pulling them into niches of quiet awakenings.
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Silently heading south into motions of tidal waves
as they foam and crash against rocks and jagged jetties.

Insisting on shadows creating new despotic characters
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Strutting to beats of horse's hoofs, finding rhythms of
theoretical musical etudes.
Filling pages with words, changing meanings, including
novel definitions, situated within alcoves of tomorrow's
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Changing notes, fingering rhythms,
fitting them together like pieces
of a puzzle.
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Waking to an insistent repetition of life standing still, watching rainbows turn gray with defeat.
Drumming steadily, falling continuously like rain, piling up in puddles easily defamed.
Onward towards any movement in time, casting out tidbits of knowledge unsavored in heady tasting wines of creativity, falling on deaf minds.
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Rocking band, beating drums, guitar blazing into the afternoon,
filling us with harmony and rhythms, lively, fanciful, energiz-
ing everyone here today at Buddy Stubbs.
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Forlorn and sad at times, running away from the world and people
to sit in solitude, alone with thoughts, feelings, emotions that
continually fill this being with a thoughtful contemplation.
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Living life in a spiritual sense, filled with faith, hope,
wonder and awe at everything in paths of destiny, creative-
ity held closely within.
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Walking roads of life, traveling into our sunsets,
watching scenery so we may recognize it on our
final walk on earth.
Blues shining upon us, melting our minds into
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Insipidly unselfish are children of the world, full of
love and caring, inspiration and absolute trust.

Taking all of life in glances, looking for insignificant
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Reaching out, following lines down highways of
eternity.
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Misty mornings of decisive thought flow through a
mind of awakening, causing writing of poetry to
stray into deserts of creative play.
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Rustling my mind, shaking ideas into formation,
whipping about my subconscious like a hurricane
in season.
Contentment seeps like rain from clouds into my
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Awakening roads of becoming take us down creative
lanes on future highways of loneliness.
Striving for some measure of being, we continue
traveling in all directions, searching for some-
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Words sound far away as I sit and contemplate my place in this world of indecisive attitudes.
Forming many ideas out of creative resources, I follow a path set only for me as I hear rhythms differently than most people.
Enjoying the differences immensely, I sit alone and feel their beauty always holding closely within.
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Classically proving quips of yesterday, giving in to special endeavors of purpose.
Lively works becoming parts of main themes, including passages of multi-colored rainbows.
Sliding across avenues of past remembrances, partaking in memory's images, taking roles in instinctual presences.
Awaiting formal invitations from silent partners in visions of talent, being exercised carefully in embraces of ingenuity.
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Voices singing deeply resonant and virile, no ghosts
hanging about as rhythms and music get up and twirl
around the dance floor.
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Finding narrow ways in life that suffocate us at times,
wanting to find freer parts to go into, hoping to be
independent and away from narrow limitations of others.
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