Ancient ocean colliding sliding under the subduction of mud on stone the friction of fire into liquid red and then erratic stone where mountains under water in depths beyond dark lurk as behemoths without claws stretching spreading apart crawling footprints without sound underwater shadows yielding to a millennial voice.
I stand with respect on a blue broken carpet of muscle shells; azure seethes a jealous face. Gold flecks of crystal sand paint Pharaohs sandals onto my feet. Hungry waves slide over glacial pebbles; time laughs at man. Hands of clouds slip silently under a blue stadium sky. The ocean holds pride over horizons … More GIBRALTAR
I have a song in my head of waves tumbling to the shore, a millennial artwork, building, rising and then breaking down, only to slide back and rebuild once more. The crystal topped crests sparkle under a bright sun, swirling with bejeweled delight, while the moon paints them with silver. It’s where I … More ALWAYS MORE
The waves whisper a name on ripples of froth rising over wet sand, reaching for a line, receding without despair into advancing waters, breaking into liquid diamonds swirling richly in an ocean soup, beaming under a yellow sun hanging in a blue sky as winds waft wave tops sideways like smoke rising from campfires and … More WITHOUT END
In the quiet of a place, the place where your thoughts surface, a voice of within rises from the silence. It’s not the wind or waves that influence, but an inner suddenness of calm, a seed watered by the drive for direction; we listen with intent, capturing the moment. There is a cleansing, … More CHANGE
A river is a mountain of energy. Its appetite to reach the ocean. The river is a highway pulling with it silt, leaves and parts of trees. On occasion the river reaches out. It’s watery fingers possessing what it wants. Quietly it moves, pushing over and carrying away the life and love of everything in … More EVERY RIVER
Waves of wind. Thoughts pulled and pressed between sheets of cool air circle over the river while slowly rumbling its volumes of silent vortices slipping past the sleeping city. A flat placid surface hides the depths of its power, the fathoms of tangled trees, layers of silt and leaves and voices of lost souls. … More THE GREAT CIRCLE
It’s a cleansing a falling of warm comfort or cold for thirst, running from streams to oceans cast down from openings the drops add to earth’s bounty the catch basin never filling or emptying held steadfast by shorelines the great walls retaining the formidable wrath of angry giants searching, hoping for an escape, a way … More SHORELINES
A wind in the water presses to the surface; currents turn circles in oceans. The paths of the ancients push dark waters aside as they pull from lands, meeting in the center. Bones rest deep in blue black sandy depths. The violets of eyes wilt, feeding the hungry and … More FATHOMS
Roger Singer 