RoseAnn V. Shawiak Poems

People disguised as clubs, groups, etc. - individually traveling alone on their own paths of destiny.
Running into others who have ideas like their own, melding minds for moments in time, then wending ways back to single, solo journeys.
Always searching for answers, beginning anew as questions arise.
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Pounding regular rhythms on synapses of my brain, selecting choices of meanings hidden beneath prose in disguises of reality.
Bringing them out subconsciously through imagination's lasting creativeness.
Putting energetic voices to words in sentences, playing into hands of fateful decisions of future moments towards death on earth.
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Toasting everyday music with enlightenment, savoring it's exquisite flavor with an open mind.
Soaring into skies of melodic thought, awed by the total effects it claims on my soul.
Returning time and again to it's stance and beauty of rhythmic ties, bound closely to my soul for eternity's future horizons on shores of Eden.
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Justifying life's excuses, sating curiosity with eternal questions. Calling to mind energetic analysis of past theories, playing into hands of fate with silent discrepancies.
Handling living with serene platitudes of holy meaning, tasting all of past visions with solemn beauty and an everlasting journey to heaven.
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Scrapings of the sky cloud my mind,
filling it with ideas of travel.
Climbing high into mountainous realms,
living dreams no one else has.
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Compiling messages from past encounters, collecting them carefully, arranging each one in exacting order, according to emotions formed within my heart.
Developing mind-sets in jungles of ideas, calculating, dividing, separating and uniting it all into whatever I write down in poetical form for selfish reasons of sanity.
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Solemnly listening to far-off destiny, thinking silently, images floating in and out, taking me on a journey of fate.
Partaking quietly of it's essence, blending it with a touch of gently honed intuition.
Holding on for reminders of why I am still here, wondering how things will eventually turn out.
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Natural beauty ascending visions of patchwork quilts, gleaming in auras of pyschic predictions.
Relating events from miles away with mere thoughts - a knowing within - of future events about to happen.
Carefully considering all aspects of time and place, wondering at times why this gift has been placed on my plate of destiny.
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Melodies, sweet and undefiled, reverberating around my being, tending to calm my spirit with bereaved acquiescence, amounting to inner peace.
Trading serenity for a link to past years, hoping to speak silently through the beyond, writing what I am being inspired to foretell.
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