RoseAnn V. Shawiak Poems

Halos of angels standing above hair the color of gold, wings moving slightly in a heavenly breeze, meanings and their definitions of earthly life being detected from time to time.

Heavenly rhythms keep us moving, rocking to beats that come upon our minds in the silence of what we used to know and live through.
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Moving in directions of the 50's music, making sense, but also putting smiles on our faces at the sound of that old time music.

Beats hammering constantly as we listen carefully, rhythms rumbling and rolling forward in the silence of our minds as intellect connects to music, all the while dancing to an inner melody, being heard in depths of what we're hearing now.
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Earthquakes tremoring the dance floor, exposing our hearts as we mingle in measures of all harmonies as they play out in our minds and intellects.

Watching closely, wanting to blend in with exercises of melodies up and down, in and out, enjoying the time we have tonight.
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Rolling across a desert wonderland, feeling its solitude as it captures whistles of lonely trains racing into mountains and valleys.

Tripping along cacti, hiding beneath palo verde trees, needing relief from the hot sun beating down upon us, needing water.
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Stretching legs and arms as we dance to rhythms strong and loud, taking us further into patterns of another life almost upon us in this end of being.

Moving rapidly, going down tracks of reality, hoping life will give more than it receives, living in a dense atmosphere of poverty without wanting to.
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Realizing the beauty of an education in an early
morning awards assembly for our Granddaughter who
is now nine years old.
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A class OF Kindergarteners all together, singing,
smiling, perfect tone, just amazing to hear.

So cute and tiny, little children, swinging, and
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Young kids dancing to the beat, faster, shuffling in
time with the rhythm, changing and titillating their
minds.
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Soaring into the atmosphere, flying through
the clouds, landing on the moon.

Traipsing down the milky way, watching stars
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Ebony mahogany being seen through imagination,
collecting reflections through it's interior
universe where anything is possible.
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