RoseAnn V. Shawiak History Poems

Walking down well-worn trails of yesterday that have fallen away, leaving very little reminders of what used to be there.

Now many pages of history have been turned and forgotten as the world turns and falls into disarray well into the future.
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Little girls talking, laughing, teasing their older
brother who seems to be taking it good naturedly so
far anyway.
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Musical rhythms playing in the background as We the People
stand for hours waiting for our President, Donald J. Trump,
a history making moment uniting us as one nation under God.
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Smiling inwardly as I listen to Page D's music, very
pertinent to what's going on today in the U.S.A.,
looking back through history, taking an intense look
at our country today.
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Traipsing through my mind, remembering history that I
have lived through, watching three-stage rockets blast-
ing into space.
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Looking out over the sparse crowd here in Mesa, seeing
blacks, whites, Hispanics, all nationalities being rep-
resented together.
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Yesterday being totally absorbed in ancient history of
India at their museum in Kolkata, seeing fascinating
relics.
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An energy is filling me interiorly, taking me soaring,
finding my place in an atmosphere beyond earth's, see-
ing the potential of innate talent.
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Listening intently to the beauty of music, looking in-
sightfully inside my mind, sensing intellect and reason-
ing.
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Running through all types of sacrifices, hardships and stress,
using music and its rhythms to ease the tension, at times even
to alleviate pain caused by physical ailments.
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Watching symbols in life as they are being taken
apart or down because of ignorance on the part
of democrats.
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Taken aback by the Flintstones song from the sixties,
a place right out of history.

One that I visited many times when younger, loving the
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Searching for something that has never been found before,
knowing it exists, but where it is continues to be a mys-
tery that cannot be fathomed.
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Stories still being told of Ronald Reagan, fantastic and
true, entertaining, heartfelt and a great part of American
history itself.
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Here at the GOP Headquarters, people are positive and
uplifting, taking their places in American History
with President Trump announcing his campaign for 2020.
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Rhythms beating to the sound of horses galloping into the
night, smiles on faces as they find their way into depths
of history, past, present and future.
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Listening intently to the beauty of music, looking
insightfully inside this mind, sensing intellect
and reasoning.
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Through the centuries many scrolls have been written
on parchment and even tree bark.

Trying to preserve the history of a people for the
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Beating steadily on edges of an Indian's drum, sending
messages from long ago, now no longer.

A place to sit or be, alone in the atmosphere of someone's
...

Thousands of lives have made their marks
temporarily on earth.

Time will eventually erase the history
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Riding enduring waves of instrumental voices, listening to
their many coded messages as they play for me alone it
seems.
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2: 54 p.m.
Rhythmic tocking of this heart, walking into infinite
measurements of the universe.
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Where are the labyrinths of time located?

Future ideas need to be stored there, awaiting their
unfolding history.
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A stone, remote, cold, brought from another world, an
environment of mountainous beauty, sitting now on an
asphalt road in downtown Tempe.
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Striding down musical lanes of poetry, setting up it's lines in
juxtaposition with notes, abbreviated and traced into allotted
strands of talent.
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Feeling the choices of life gathering together in
moments of energizing beauty.
Sliding around in an atmosphere of quality and
inspiring poetical history of tomorrow's centrifugal
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Wheels rolling counter clockwise, taking me on journeys
through the past, watching history repeat itself in many
memories.
Tasteful, refined and too real.
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Tripping down pathways, watching what's going on
around me in life, seeing so many extraordinary
events happening on earth.
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A stone, remote, cold, brought from another world - an environment of mountainous beauty, sitting now on an asphalt road in downtown Tempe.
How did it get there?
Was the journey long and tortuous, or easy and fun?
It's silence is profound as it steadily sits, unrecognized for what it is - a piece of history - a part of a long ago mountain.
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Lively, unanticipated music, singing to my heart's mind
with verve and vigor.
Enlightening my morning, stepping up a mood of enjoyment,
and filling me with elation.
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