RoseAnn V. Shawiak Poems

Strategies of life lie in volumes of poems, altering constantly, according to how I feel interiorly.
Recognition of a deep passion for life's explanations serve me daily in prayerful poems, never forsaking me in desperate times of being.
Believing in a beautiful tomorrow and trying to attain it through my writing.
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Listening with my heart, hearing the plaintive voices of my soul, sending and straightening lines of access to hope in faith.
Forgiving moments, building themselves into treasured gems of beauty, climbing to heights unknown in realities of life.
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Traipsing through forests, listening to the wind blowing through the tops of pine trees.
Sensations of spirituality filling me with a serene countenance, aiding me in daily misfortunes.
Remembering all the camping trips, at home with nature, recharging my batteries alongside a campfire, roasting marshmallows and making s'mores.
A relevant time in life, giving faith a reason to continue to be held tightly within my soul.
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Homeless hopes hanging back, not wanting to disturb anyone, yet being in desperate need for life-giving food and a place to sleep for the night.
People walked by, pretending not to notice his tattered clothes and ripped up shoes.
Needing a shower and comb through his hair to make him look more presentable.
For who, he just didn't know, because he was so invisible to all those who passed him by.
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Flashing lights beckoning me,
Showing the way to destiny.
Allowing the beauty to shower me
With blessings from friends.
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Retrieving all thoughts and shining them into landscapes of
infinite possibilities.
Taking care to keep individual purposes in an alignment of
particular reasons and logical explanations.
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Volumes of poetry are being coaxed from within as I quietly reminisce in a mood of sublime contemplation.
Without moving beyond life in a corner of beauty, nature is finding my passion and lighting it like a blossom of fire from within.
Etching memories into waxen candles, preserving their colorful sights in dense molds of tomorrow's evenings.
To be held in mirror every day as it is told in moments of poetry and expressed in the minds of all those who read them this night.
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Reminiscing about the cafe, thinking of all the good people and memories it brings to mind.
Memories of all the singers touches my mind with a gentle breeze of recognition, making me feel good and relaxing a little.
So nice to be safe in past images of musical inclinations.
Seeing all of them keeping in time with every rhythm, even now is totally transfixing.
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