RoseAnn V. Shawiak Mystical Poems

Rendezvousing, bringing all of life into the balance of a
superb cooperation of intelligence and imagination.

Stacking messages quietly, allowing them to be closely
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Marching through tunnels of time, seeing sights that normally are
not seen by others, always being captured through a photographic
memory.
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Melodies fragrantly decorating intellect fully and aromatic-
ally, fulfilling the essence of a poetical nature, capturing
it all through poetry.
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Rushing into the sacredness of evening, when music and rhythms
begin to do their mystical celebrations of life all through
the day.
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Riding into a future mist, not knowing what lies beyond
it, hoping it won't be too troubling, no fears or doubts
when doing so.
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Quietly, silently contemplating through rhythms as they
continually soothe my mind with their tender and delicate
notes.
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Interested in everything in life, wanting to learn all that
I can, always curious and open to all explanations.

Finding mysteries along byways of life, unusual circumstances
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Hurriedly accepting musical peace of a band flowing into
the center of my mind, being strummed in the wayward wind,
touching the beneficence of my soul.
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Blowing bubbles, tempting the kids, they look up, but
never leave their stations at the stream of water where
they continue fishing their colorful little fake fish.
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Knowing that someday I will walk into a final moment,
nothing to keep me here on this earth, not wanting to
be here any longer than I have to.
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Lasting hope sits settled deeply inside this soul,
nurturing faith, helping it to blossom forth,
generating mystical ideas through contemplation
while writing.
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Lights beckoning my mind with their orange tint and mystical
beauty as they entice intellect to drive through imagination
alive and vivid no matter the time of day or night.
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Reaching for depths of my soul, grasping feelings and
sensations being kept treasured there for life.
Sololy able to look through and connect them to
pictorial words, forming musical etudes at the same
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Unchanging realms become stagnant and die within us.
Life is a bereavement of those we know and love
through our lifetimes.
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Adjusting inner sanctums with candle light.
Stirring the mystical sights of another
time in life.
Torrents of happiness, finding their way
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Rhythmically proceeding into highways, leading to an eventual
ending to this life on earth.

Seeing it occurring a lot faster than I think it should, but
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Drawing self into portraits of imagination, taking all the ideas filled from yesterday's compositions.
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Strutting down lanes and through gardens of musical poetry, fantasizing all the while.
Memorizing notes of lyrical content, inspiring mind blossoms in verse.
Taking strides towards mystical comprehensions.
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