RoseAnn V. Shawiak Poems

Competition between two people is a constant reminder that there are always two factions in life opposing one another.
Sometimes being a good thing, bringing out the best in each person.
Other times letting out only the bad in them.
Life goes on, and competition is a part of it, only if it achieves the good in every one of each day.
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Whether you are near or far we are close together in mind and heart.
Our virtues mingle and combine, radiating the beauty of God we hold within.
Lighting up the world around us with purpose and disciplined faith, taking in stride the apoplexy of sudden strife.
Building upon the stairway to heaven, levels of forgiveness.
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Stranded in mid-life, aware of impending old age
creeping upon me much too soon.
Trampling underfoot, memories collide, striving
to be heard among anger blaring alongside.
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Waving gently from beyond depths of knowledge, personal identity hides.
Afraid to let itself be known, forging pathways of it's own.
Needing no one to lead the way, prefers to explore new byways of it's own choosing.
Life experiences are multiplied this way and wisdom grows with youthful thought to a land of wonder and awe.
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Irony of life is that of being lived daily without a single
known reason for doing so.

What are the methods of routine? Why are we so involved in
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Awakening rudeness climbing inwardly, taking it's time to grow proportionately.
Whiling away the precipitous mourning of alternative clamoring, anticipating harmony of glorious moments while filing away
liveliness sitting in the parlor of yesterday.
Proclaiming the anniversary of inner yearnings left over from
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Sorrow pours from my eyes on traditional mornings as
memories pop in like popcorn, hitting me squarely in
depths of my heart where I sit hiding.
Delicately touching strings of intuition and blessings, focusing my mind on the heaviness I feel quietly inside.
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Rich in words, beliefs and sorrow, tended in lonely
mansions of tomorrow's interchanges.
Veiling blue shadows through yesterday's funerals,
watching for omens of life now past.
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Deep in my heart, feelings stir, quelling any doubts
of insincere thoughts.
Lying on fragile beds of lace, not wanting to journey
past indignant meanings, standing to sides of pathways, regretting their existence.
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