A low rumbling a quiet menace brooding on the horizon a language of sounds ominous clouds above the reach of man evil markings retire day’s shadows relinquishing serene space to a greater force heavy weather reflects in eyes gazing upward rain presses onto the souls of mortals.
It was a black moon night absent of shadows, full of dreams. Days bouquet of clouds melted into tasteful air. There was a release of sounds, living for a moment, then lost. The pulse of dark became strong. A light breeze engaged unwilling leaves. Stone walls held tightly the history of land. There was a … More ALWAYS THERE
Sometimes there’s not enough words to explain the day. We attempt to create a shape, a revelation between spaces, where a line becomes more than a crease in time. It’s a half note matured and filled with air. The sound bursts into a place not yet traveled. The movement resembles a crusade, a new path … More PLACE YOUR BETS
Low clouds dampen an early Fall afternoon. Sounds of pigeons overhead and newspapers opening become absorbed into an unmistakable dullness. People hold hands, thanking the stars for dreams coming true. Puddles of last nights rain reflects treetops and corners of buildings protected by gargoyles. The aroma of tar and steam touches everyone passing … More FROM UP HERE
It was a beginning sound, like an orchestra finding it start, each instrument achieving an evenness of created strength. So was it with the beginning of the storm. A confluence of parts formed overhead, lining up like soldiers on opposite sides, rising quickly to the challenge, breaking silence into a riotous charge. Pieces … More PIECES OF SKY
A gypsy vagabond of notes, refreshing like spring rain, lifted up with the fragrance from warm roads mixed with cut grass, a moment alive with sound from angels as the piano created a language, familiar to itself yet unknowing to many nearby, listening as they would a speech dry from paper, lifeless, missing the fluid … More IVORY FINGERS
A coronet sounds fresh into air like rain from a troubled sky, slipping sharp past an open apartment window, past jealous earthbound curtains, chipped paint and neglected flowers, over a fire escape where the fluid of sound tumbles down metal stairs past girls smoking cigarettes and snapping gum crossing corners where garbage cans stink of … More REACHING
A guitar fills a soft space between soul and need releasing petals of sound merging into the blood of day. Wounds are healed within the weave of notes closing out loss strengthening bones and heart with growth. The sounds continue, watering unfolding blossoms as darkness retreats. The guitar soothes the moment, opening a chance beyond … More UNFOLDING
Roger Singer 