RoseAnn V. Shawiak Poems

Just following smart answers doesn't mean you can become a genius, it takes many years to become a particle of life that excellent.
Also, taking into account, people who know they don't know everything, as they keep learning to find out when they can be found a genius.
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Juggling thoughts in mind, finding that many are too morose, and need to be enlivened beyond measures of depression before ending up in a pool of tears that can't be gotten rid of.
Soaking thoughtfully, wondering how much longer this can go on, deciding to energize and continue on another road left from yesterday's destiny.
Taking care to always send this part on it's way.
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Prancing down alleys of greatness, hooking up with equal talents, awaiting similar partners.
Forgiving each ability fallen to the sides of roads, turning inside out and rising above higher education with little effort and a lot of musical talent.
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Silhouettes of yesterday find their way into pathways, waking up other shadows, to traipse into wayside endeavors.
Pleasing no one else, walking toward haphazard rhythms, chasing them into darkened corners to await further instruction.
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Lights shining into my mind as I watch everyone climb around, not staying close to anyone for any reason.
Not leaving room for a person to talk, because I'm writing to my heart's content, freer than I've been in years.
Loving every moment I can be holding a pen in hand, writing life down for others to read in poetry.
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Cheating hearts end up in a lot of turmoil, ruining marriages, families, and jobs.
Yet, they get caught up in the aftermath of a conniving man or woman, taking what they can get from anyone.
Relationships, falling apart, never put back together, because family is now broken and can't be repaired.
Left in darkened hallways, no way to remove themselves from them.
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Slowly saddling the past and bringing it into a future of plenty.
No one can fathom which direction to go in, after limiting excessive potential and turning it over to some turban headed ghost, finding spaces of time being spliced by electrical promises of wonder-making.
Trying to become a part of something better, ending in apologies for what they'd never do and have never done.
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Quietly counting silent meanings as they wanted to be heard above the din of the noisy crowds.
Taking time to see every pattern as it appears in depths of believing attitudes.
Skipping along broken paths, being careful not to get cut by the shards left lying on the carpet.
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Traveling on very little money, never knowing if there'll be enough to get back home again, not really being concerned as long as I can listen to music and write for my time on earth.
Rocking gently, swaying, hoping to find my way deeply into melody's inner makings, taking me to interior depths never been to before.
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Spell-bound, set in frames of yesterday, portraying bits and pieces of love in melodies set out to express love in different ways and explanations.
Trying to explain in details is too formidable to touch a child's mind.
Children just want to experience what love is about, irregardless of what happens.
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