RoseAnn V. Shawiak Poems

Rolling across the universe, taking energy along for the ride, beckoning to my spirit to join in the festivities.
Patrolling pathways, filing images in cabinets of memories for future writing and purpose.
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Looking through dusty, shaded windows, seeking nature at play to lighten my heart for a while.
Watching shadows playing hide-and-seek with the sun, touching my libido with an energy of playfulness.
Bringing about a new season of joyful anticipation, reaching an avenue of great expectations to be fulfilled at last.
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Rays of sunshine pouring from behind gray storm clouds, floating majestically above us on their way to push storms with rain upon earth's grandeur.
Spilling tons of drops where they will do the most good, replenishing mother nature into designations of world ecstatic solutions.
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Taking motion into wave lengths of prose, officiating speculatively in words of talented definitions.
Explaining episodic portrayals of indefinite positions as they crop up in timeless space.
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Falling inside, breathing deeply,
letting go of indecision and doubt.
Finding an equal amount of passivity
accruing in a sphere of talented surprise.
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Introducing new colors into a rainbow
filled with extra sensory perception,
reflecting thoughts as they are written in prose,
coded throughout and sent straight to hearts,
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Silence of sadness fits me to a tee, as I sit here mired in an ocean of my tears.
Staring at them, feeling their softness cut my heart time and again,
watching their essence of blue, as I remember heaven's garden and God's blue roses.
Wanting to pick one and bring it to earth as a reminder that God cares about me - His little child.
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Lifeless, hanging in mid-air, no where to go or fall, on this space of earth.
There's nothing here for me to hold on to, all has been taken away, except family - and I'm the oldest of eight.
Two sons work, but they do the best they can to help me when they're able to.
Relatives abound, yet I take care of myself, even my husband, who has early onset dementia, needs my care.
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Morosely settled, wondering what's next in life's scheme of things.
No longer being young, yet my mind is still young at heart in every
way.
Enjoying every moment given in an atmosphere of music to write
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Marching through thickest tangles of life's insistent webs of remorse.
Hacking away at them in later years of life, becomes a chore more obsessed than any time before in life.
Timely reminders that we are growing older with every moment, and are opening up to death's doors.
Not wanting to go through them filled with bushels of regrets to bog us down.
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