Sometimes the walls feel like hands moving in, taking over my space, moving me away from the center with a pushing to the outside where instead of looking out from where I am I’m looking in to where I was. It’s an odd place, not on one side or the other, until I quiet myself, … More THE PROMISE
THE ROAD OF JAZZ A sound with light. Blinding. Passing direction on a dark flat world. Language of feeling. Bloody tears. Smiles with wings; lifting, then falling back. An uncovering. Drowning visions. Blankets of dreams; warming the cold, a shield against demons. A heartbeat. Pushing strong sound. From a distance, … More THE ROAD OF JAZZ
THICK COLLARS His living walked the halls of roads where branches pointed his direction. His coats thickness covered a chest with a heart for home. Lifting and pushing is the job of his hands; working the wrong side of each day. Breezes tease the edge of his hat, rubbing his face, forcing … More THICK COLLARS
A hedgerow opening provides an unscripted path, like a sketch void of color and where footsteps of mist fall like paper ripped from a book. Roots below turn with the passing of seasons. Silent in growth. Solemn, like the bones of names forgotten. Night stars and moon shades slant the shadows of crooked branches onto … More AN OPENING
A black wall. His fears standing against him. No breath blows the barrier down. No shouts, push, pull Or hide the anger. But when he sings…. He sings the strength of trees falling, owning the space where they lie. His sound hammers the air, framing rooms on the stage of his mind. And when he … More WALLS BOW DOWN
I know a place where two roads gather into one marked by stonewalls where peace finds a rest away from the city tucked where few know it shines with quiet moments under summers cool shade. Grand trees line the road like sentries securing a path with massive forbidding mighty … More THE STONES
A face on a flag, the wind gives it voice. Steam from the day retires nights grasp. Horns and lights, the blood of cities, pull at the weak. People envy the closure of circles, the place where end is welcomed and faces are familiar. Lights breathe onto crowded shorelines where people … More RESTLESS
A hard breath parts the dust on her working hands as she repairs the soil for seeds in the season ripe to plant, in rows where hope is watered and faith realized, in the life garden, the section she owns, moving and rising the mounds waiting for vines and plants under the tides of her … More BETWEEN SEASONS
A door slams with a rattle into night. Footsteps pass. The sound of a stranger. A face unknown. The high tide of whiskey and smoke soaks the shorelines of sidewalks As a city lowers its night curtains. Tipped hats and high coat collars wade the flow through streams of streets. Street lights. Fallen stars. Harbors … More STREET LIGHTS
Hidden in the narrow path we take are a life of words like vines twisting we reach and choose improving by expression, the hope of blending in. But without direction our internal light fades, our steps become entangled altering our direction and creating within a shadow without form. If we follow by prayer … More NARROW PATHS
Roger Singer 