The Singers' Singer Poem by Richard Wlodarski

Her fingers touched the strings
That breathed rhythm into timelessness
Her eyes searched for the fire within
And made me long for a time and place
Lost in the blue light of communion

Her words touched a part of my hidden self
That was now emerging from my subconscious
And magically transformed my tears into joy
As she sang words that echoed through time and space
And reverberated into rhythm of my heart

She had once sung for those who bought her soul
Those who were tormented with indignities beyond their control
Skeletons hidden in places of gold and pain
Lost in the eternity of hellish devices
Imprisoning her with their devilish torment

She was now singing for unsung musicians
For deaf poets selling their sum and substance
For dumb writers hocking cheap words
For colorless artists starving for creativity
For humans devoid of lost and precious civility

Angie is a sensorial being
On the wavelength of melodic lyric
Her words speak to the poetry in lost poets
Her songs manifest the spirit of musicians
Her humility reminds us of...our humanness