The pull of gravity provides a slow blink of reality and caution. Unfamiliar dreams of eyes with stars, kings of stone, and watch towers under gray slate skies create the beginning of desperate ambitions. Repentant knees drop with emotion, praying for pockets of hope and second chances.
The life in words is the poem yet created. An unrefined treasure, a stone of beauty desperate for cutting, a tree to be pruned. It’s a labor of decision until the pen strikes open the curtain of memory and a visionary dream bursts to the surface under curious hands. Songs of souls live on the … More RELEASING WORDS
One in the morning. I stretch, turning off the light. My book falls to the floor. Looking up, a cerulean mist hangs as my eyes adjust. A curtain of black soon covers the room. A diesel truck passes by below. A window shuts in anger. The night stand clock hums out of tune; an electric … More EARLY
It was a raining of dreams, like stars falling on the edges of safe harbors, encouraging the heroes we have inside as visions of advancing shadows pressed through a gray descending mist until images of horses appeared; their muscles burdened with motion, running past, thundering the ground, until blending into black curtains. The forest is … More JUST BEFORE AWAKE
COMPANY OF ANGELS I have fallen into company of angels. Brushed by wings of heavens understanding. I am paused, held as if in the comfort of sleep. Though arms spread ocean width, they fail to equal a moment of praise my lips willingly confess. … More COMPANY OF ANGELS
There is a sleep murmur, a language of slumber, half words absent of full thoughts, verbal creations satisfying the ears while agreeing with suggestions; nodding of the head and smiling before slipping back to sleep. Dreams offer partial direction, indicating the chance to be or the place be all appears right, and above question. Night … More THE OTHER SIDE
His fingers owned the strings releasing freely treasures slipping to earth. Notes competing with stars lighted dark skies like Christmas every night. His head snapped to the beats bursting in air then settled slow into soft. Sweat channeled long with drips from his passion as he breathed out the jazz.
Somewhere between the sleep of death and breath of life I linger within when my eyes like yours close for day and open for night in blackness deep where sounds are crushed into voices and faces twist into paintings of who I know or who I’ve seen when … More DRINKING SLEEP
Night chords drip a slow pace. Porches fill with moving voices. The ice in drinks mix with perfume and sweat. The bass man spills the passion while his hands create a sound blessing. He has a garden of jazz to release. Colors in the crowd move forward, bright with face, soft in … More INSPIRATION
On the beach of my life I am young again, standing in the surf, resisting the authority of waves moving with the earth upon me. I am golden without shine, standing under tangerine skies, fearing nothing, commanding the day from my shoreline footstool. I am the history of myself. A legend to no one. A … More GOLDEN
Roger Singer 