His face soaked
the age from surrounding air.
Lines ran his forehead. Bursting
crevices adorned his crown of
pain behind him. Forests of gray
hair stacked stiff against
black unruly strands.
Lips lay silently full of life;
Quiet library shelves full of stories.
Soft words rain thoughts
when released. His head tilts with
surrender. A small child stands
at his side.
His shirt is unbuttoned. A gold chain
swings across his chest. Tired untied
shoes, worn to the soul, gasp at rest.
Blue eyes empty of prayers, lift up to a
wide horizon.
DEEP FROM WITHIN
Strong waves are birthed in cold water.
Black fingered currents crawl to the surface
From mountains below.
Caldrons swirl.
Witches brew dark liquid potions.
Winds from the moon slide
onto the earth’s rotation.
Swimming creatures; eyes pink
with diaphanous shells
wink into blackness.
Waves conquer the shoreline.
Diamond brown sand.
Water slides roughly.
A placenta covering with bubbles.
Rocks receive a wet pounding.
Sea weed tumbles green;
Medusa’s head in the wind.
The god’s scratch their beards.
Storms angrily form.
Read more work from Roger Singer



