RoseAnn V. Shawiak
Basking in details, gathering them like leaves being raked into piles of entertainment.
Sending messages with increasing intensity so they may be written down in books of history.
Tolling african signs as they race between pages of documentation, accruing wisdom as it flows downhill into ponds of learning.
Opting for and choosing select meanings of prose as I glide along on melodies, random and adventurous through life.
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Comments about this poem (Randomly Gliding by RoseAnn V. Shawiak )
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Still I Rise
Edgar Allan Poe
I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
William Ernest Henley
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