RoseAnn V. Shawiak Poems

Wondering about life and why it's so complicatingly simple.
How are we led to enter such a world?
No ideas of what to expect, we are just ejected from our mothers and expected to learn so much in a short, temporary life.
There seems to be no sense in all of it, because after we live and learn all we can, we are sent to deathbeds to expire and forget it all in one last moment of breath.
...

Rushing through rhythms, trying to keep time in writing.
Enjoying the beats as they hit my mind with inspiring words to help others in their searche for peace of mind and comfort in aging years here on earth.
...

Finding a place inside, keeping it and enjoying the spacious freedom - an everlasting way to express myself.
An independence wholly appreciated - being who I am is a letting go of self.
An interior calling, a form of sincere contemplation, conversing with God as He lets me know what I am to do.
He brings another person into my life who needs to change their attitudes and come back to Him.
...

Regaling music with a fantastic attitude, proliferating extra measures, adding extra changes to the meaning of daily limits.
Only inner stubbornness can determine what goes on in the deadened avenues of burdensome plunders.
Catching all stations falling away and needing to be picked up.
...

Footprints etched in mires of emotional muddiness,
causing concern for minds of someone not familiar
with the ways of life through senses felt in lines
of yesterday's memories.
...

Falling down into pools of sadness,
watching reflections of my life drowning in their depths.
Leaving me stranded in arid deserts of yesterday,
without any reserves to return to.
...

Mirrors of my soul reflecting itself into heaven's clouds of hope.
Deciding to make the most of life here and now, through the music of flowing waterfalls of sound.
Splashing around in it's depths, washing away the cultivated dirt of human beings and taking aspirations beautifully into heaven's gardens.
Keeping pace with imagination and it's creative dreams, coming into their own on desert plains of poetical musing.
...

Borrowing names of future celebrities, naming sons and daughters after them, hoping to have their children grow up to be famous.
Choosing paths before they're even born, trying to control every avenue and path of their child's future destiny.
Not realizing that God has already put them where He wants each individual at every given point in time.
...

Passing fancies not coming close to me, preferring more permanent ideals.
Holding them in my heart, knowing they'll never depart, keeping me whole, enjoying past memories forever through writing.
Still finding the sensations and titillating extrasensory projections from within depths of my entire being.
Solving problems of every day matters without any interference from without.
...