RoseAnn V. Shawiak Poems

Silently listening to rhythms sliding around imagination, looking for a perfect fit - one that sounds good and makes sense to a logical side of thinking.
Insisting on common ground, following avenues of circumstance around corners of my mind.
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Rhythm rocks me inside out, taking me into outer labyrinths of space.
Figuring depths to the nth degree, filling me with an optimism of untold wealth.
Savoring every nuance and sense of joyous peace, filling me with an intense feeling of serenity.
Showing all aspects of interior thought, touching intellect without thinking of anything untoward.
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Depicting eternal gardens, set in mosaics of mind tiles - exceptional value for intellectual prowess.
Processing entire pictures of yesterday's images, placing them into exacting measurements to be traced again in certain orders of routine.
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Glimmering into the snow of past winters, taking patterns of snowflakes into places of remembrance, pleasing to my soul.
Flowing along with beats of rhythm, taking steps into depths of new melodies, keeping pace with memory's placid meanings.
Intrepid senses, filling me with pleasant tones and sounds filtering through my mind.
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Stepping down pathways towards eternity, filling senses with aromatic scents of heaven.
Sitting on edges of plaintive cries, beckoning all to join in and have faith and hope in an eternity of togetherness.
Finalizing all plans, life expands and collapses right before us, as we find ourselves matching thoughts with words in pictures of beauty.
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Sending emotions flying into separate atmospheres, keeping them away from me for now.
Not wanting to place their meaning in sentences at this time.
Rather, anchoring all thoughts to moorings of yesterday's selective ideas, to be invented for future inspirations of desire.
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Feeling close to someone who's a friend of quiet respect, taking in every aspect from every direction, trying to understand how I write so he can pass it on to his significant other.
As usual, I'm a puzzle with no solution that anyone can find or locate.
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Flinging off robes of evening, dressing and going to church on a hazy Sunday morning.
Praying, lighting candles, asking God to please send help in this desperate situation, I've found myself in.
Walking quietly down the aisle towards the altar, seeing my Lord standing there before me, giving me a sign of future answers being given.
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Trotting down trails, a cowboy yodeling to his cattle.
Singing calmly, yodeling far and wide.
Calls of the wild herd, looking askance at the reactions of every steer, glancing at one another in utter amazement of what is being sung to round them up.
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Strumming slowly downward, touching chords laid back in postures of relaxation.
Timing being impeccable, precise beats falling down strings of beauty as a guitar is being played in solo depths of beautiful inner landscapes.
Painted by the melodies being played quietly in able pivoting rehearsal through the night.
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