There is an opera singer
Of Friday morning parking lots,
Whose soft solo soars
Over empty spaces,
Through sleeping trees,
Past dimming lamps—
And then flutters
Between your ears.

All is still for now:
The wind holds its breath,
The birds stop their wings,
The trash drops its odor—
All is still
Till she stops singing
Her sweet, slow melody.

Now the sun can rise.

How the **** did you get out of the fanzone so quickly....
That doesn't happen...
You like skipped the friendzone so quick...
God...
Come here you,
Get back to bed...

Old, you’re told before me
Like a poem on cracked wood
Your hands have stuck to palms
As a prayer to the audience

You try to cry, but your tears have gone
Shed ahead of dreams that tarry
Pride and soul flutter from you
For a moment while you hold your notes high

You become what you’ve always been

Quietly, nearly a whisper in your gritted teeth
When you don’t sing you stutter
You wail to your women, to the crowd, to me
But you’ve never sung to one but yourself

And when you shake your voice
To the people that barely care
I suddenly believe you
Adverts flash behind your stare
And I suddenly can see you

Your voice dries up as you fade so bare
But it never could feed you.

Time passes as night blooms.
Her lips awoke the soul of the sleeping city,

She grabbed the microphone,
As the stars screamed.

How this girl's voice has smitten me.

There are hundreds of places she could be.
But she is here with me.

In a past life, I banged on empty garbage cans.
While whistling alone in my room.

This night!
My heart is beating like a drum for you...


Copyright © Ronald J Chapman All Rights Reserved.

A dream has come true today.

Dressed in white, with a blue scarf,
Everything seems just cool as can be,
Looking so sweet to see.

An Angel sits on a tall chair, In front of a microphone.

Glass walls have ears, and there are no hands on the clock.

Happy as can be.
The Angel sings with a;
soulful, beautiful, sweet, pure, powerful, strong, pure, upbeat, lush, charismatic, different,  appealing...
Voice.

To children.
From out of the book of Worship
She sings of love, hope and friendship,

On this dreamy day.

Copyright © Ronald J Chapman All Rights Reserved.

Shining star, so far away;
Her starlight travels across,
Distant time and space.

Her warmth travels so far to reach me.

So many years,
She was rising, but I could not see.

Her glimmering starlight reaches me at last.

Now that I can see her, she lights up my sky,

I pray she rises every day and night.
I pray she never vanishes from life.

Copyright © Ronald J Chapman All Rights Reserved.

I felt I was in a magical
place when I heard her voice?

I was so absorbed in her song,
It made a connection between us.

All talking and laughter had ceased,
There was no one else but her and me.

I found myself looking at her;
The more I looked,
The more I listened.

No matter how hard I tried,
I could not turn away,

Because, I did not want to miss a thing.

Copyright © Ronald J Chapman All Rights Reserved.

“Behold the fragility
kept within this space.
I used to be the voice
that made their souls,
but behold my fragility,
kept within.”

But no light has been
erased from those eyes
which hover higher
than the muck of living.
Nothing has faded within
this singer, not even the song
shackled to her weakness,
its dying unheard.

i have this fantasy in my mind
to sing the blues

to sing the songs of lonesome people
to belt it out from the bottom of my bellows to the tippy tops

i see my dark silhouette in even darker places
bringing sorrowful songs a touch of sweetness and whole lotta soul
soul that'll shake the lonesome loose

i could hide my face and bare all emotion
for strange familiar faces

so i'm crazy, yes, and secretly want to be a lounge singer
a lady of the night if you please
but think it over, then tell me truly that
to breath the blues for those who feel them
doesn't entice you as well