Roger Singer, our most prolific and accomplished contributing poet, recently submitted three new poems for our consideration, which we proudly publish here. Singer reports that he has now had almost 800 poems published in magazines, periodicals and online journals — 400 of which are jazz poems — and has recently self-published a Kindle edition of his book of jazz poetry called Poetic Jazz.
“Jazz poetry flows out with such ease,” Singer writes on his blog. “The people and places, the alleys and sawdust jazz clubs. The stories that bring jazz alive with horns and voices, from sadness and grief to highs at midnight and love gone wrong. The jazz is within us all. Find your poem and feel the music.”
HER WEB
A fellowship of approval
formed her like strong waves
blessing the song
releasing nectar
dripping thick
as the bass man slipped
into smooth
releasing a passion
to the strings
submitting to his touch
while the lights dimmed
and hands clapped them
into the next set
where pearls of sound
filled the years with
stories and sin
of blood nights
and devil talk
long into the cold
without coats
while angels blessed
morning coffee
for sleepy faces
she pulls hard
at the pages within
driving out
for all to see
that moment of soul
a brief glimpse
at the shadow of her youth
then draws it back
while the web of jazz
covers the crowd.
_____
SWING MAN
His words breathed with the wetness
of water welling up; a cool flow of tides
dripped from his lips, sounding the life
of nations once passed under his feet.
A blessing of hands, with palms raised,
pray for the gifts he dispenses
from the files stored in his head.
A door of giving opens from his
chest of jazz, running up from the deep,
pooling with noise around his ankles
and onto the shoes of the world.
The swing man snaps a song from pages
behind his eyes, lighting a path for
those to follow.
_____
RICH WITH THICK
Words and sounds
rise without
restrictions
unlike smoke
drifting into thin
this pure message
of the jazz
the music
the way it is
creeps to
the top
viewing the world
like cream
rich with thick
bubbling with up
rising till
the top flips
into falling off
then rolls
with roundness
over and through
pounding at doors
and swimming oceans
flexing its branches
to all corners
spreading the
yeast of
its growth
to the hunger
of souls.
*
Visit Roger Singer’s poetry page on Jerry Jazz Musician
