RoseAnn V. Shawiak Poems

Transmutation of daily life is a sacrifice made for no apparent reason.
All around the world are specific moments recalled from a vast
expanse of unconscious knowledge.
Like a harp, strings are recollected at a second's notice and transported to farthest outreaches and inner paths of memories.
...

Listening to music of my heart beat in rhythm with my mind,
counting out notes of life before my life has ended.
Wondering at how this body ages a little bit each day,
leading from the very first cry of life to eventual death.
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Taking on advantages of life, twisting and turning them to fit my style.
Laughing, tossing rules and authority to winds of yesterday, not caring about today.
Solving puzzles of unconscious realms, dividing and conquering them without difficulty.
Swerving to and fro, collecting memories and images needed to balance the life I have now.
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Triangular squares taking shape, forming in my mind.
Eliciting patterns of novel thought, sliding across
memory's unconscious paths of rightful thinking.
Contrary to pillars of strength, all eyes fall instead,
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Screens of football games running back and forth,
being ignored by many people, listening instead
to a band of music, ringing around their minds.
Tossing us out into spaces of rhythm, we inter
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Wakeful moments spent in trying out new tastes of music
and lively measurements of novel ideas.
Images pop out like notes on a banjo, picked just for
my mind, over a delightful dinner for two.
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Peacefully igniting candles of prayer, tending them
carefully.

Sending their heavenly smoky odors to gates of heaven,
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Tempos rhythmically counting beats on scores of
musical etudes.
Playfully enjoying every sound of keyboard and drums
heading my way.
...