jdubqca

poetry by j matthew waters

in due time


before silence takes over
your former self
consider conquering it
on your own terms
in your own sweet time

before silence takes over
[the entire world]
consider taming your own
wicked thoughts
rehabilitating them
from feral tangents
into purposeful intentions
worthy of imitating

fear not the silence
towering over your domain
find comfort knowing
she’s been with you
since the very beginning





march two thousand nineteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

year of the cat


she practices her violin
sitting on the spinet bench
scratching out imperfections
into the midday air

outside it’s raining softly
bookend bay windows
slightly cranked open
letting sounds in and out

the law of attraction
is a two-way street
all the strays standing tall
from the peanut gallery
watching the house favorite
rubbing ankles
with the star of the show





march two thousand nineteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

cease fire


who shall we condemn today
and who shall we elevate
picking and choosing
like gods openly playing favorites

how many times must we surrender
until peace reigns on earth
and how many times must our
hearts be tested before
proving our intentions are true

and those gods who willfully
come and go at their leisure
who’s to say they’re not the ones
continually adding fuel to the fire





march two thousand nineteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

an exercise of the least possible


I’ve been keeping my thoughts
to the slightest of late
hoping to quiet my outer space
while improving the blood flow
giving my inner self a break
from all the distractions
coming at me from all directions

I keep waiting on the chance
for the sun to sing me a new song
one allowing my mind
to retreat into relative ease
keeping my intentions at bay
and my heart center
beating at a bare minimum





march two thousand nineteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

this place is sacred


eyes blink rapidly like wings
of a bird taking flight
shaking loose cobwebs stitched
delicately throughout the night

though the shades are drawn
sunlight leaks in from cracks
in the window panes
stretched thin over time

house frame beams and sighs
breathing a little easier
since having no place to go
like oak tree outside the window

movements aplenty in and out
like apparitions in the hallway
a pair of cardinals on the bough
welcoming heavenly visitors





march two thousand nineteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

before you do


won’t you please
make another pot of tea
and stay with me awhile

we can try on
those thinking caps
the ones I told you about
last time you were here
the ones I bought at the
flea market back when
you were just a child

or we can dial up
another sci-fi movie and
marvel at the special effects
like we used to do
all the while sharing
some buttered popcorn
never saying a single word

but if you must move on
that much I understand
but won’t you please please please
start another pot for me
before you do





march two thousand nineteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

guilty by design


how do you capture such moments
involved in the ordinary course of events
seemingly normal amongst the masses
but once retracted in your very own space
feeling cornered and desperately alone

and so you pick up whatever instrument
that happens to be at your disposal
scratching at the very surface that scares you
recreating designs and inventing words
only your inner self could ever understand





march two thousand nineteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

on the fringes picking up pieces


you see me in your dream
taking notes on the sidelines
while the rest of the gang
sit on high like a panel of judges
or a murder of crows
calling on the next witness

I keep my wings tucked
inside my black jacket
pacing back and forth
along the roadside
keeping my mouth shut
and pretending I’m all alone

you’re the only one
recognizing me for who I am
perfectly capable of joining
your little inner circle
but modestly more at ease
scavenging on my own terms





march two thousand nineteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

reflections in the night


two score after the destruction of civility
a strange peace swept across the planet

it was the year twenty ninety-five
and all major technological advances
of the past 100 years had been laid to rest

I was a mere teenager living off the land
somewhere in africa or asia or america
the exact location dependent upon
the moment my implant became inoperative

instinctively I became one with the sun
the moon and all the stars of the sky
gradually coming to realize I am nothing
but a child of all generations past
born to light a candle each and every night





march two thousand nineteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

unlikely guardians


who will speak to me next
as if in tomorrow
standing here on the ground
looking up
bird’s nest in the open air
curious cat in my peripheral

I realize I’m not alone anymore
it only feels that way
stepping out of my skin
for the very first time
and looking back
through a bottomless mirror

so it seems the bird and cat
have been chosen
to encourage me on
one pushing
the other pulling
both bickering
in their own beautiful way





march two thousand nineteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

painting Venus


she said I’m quite mad and it was
all I could do not to disagree

we’d been playing with ideas involving
tongues and keeping our eyes closed

there was nothing for us outside
save sunshine and possibilities

I’m tired of keeping my eyes closed
I said while sticking out my tongue

I’m tired of you being quite mad
she said crossing her pale white legs

as I returned to the canvas
she started singing like an angel





march two thousand nineteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

dancing the pain away


ankle sprain wrapped twice
take two aspirin and call
me in the morning

the phone never did ring
and two days later
she had fled on foot

I looked out the door
and all I saw was wind
whipping through the avenue
reminding me of a song
I’d been meaning to finish

days later she was back
upstairs and immobile
either fast asleep
or wide awake
fighting bouts of cold sweat
and hallucinating blue skies
swearing to god one of these days
she’s gonna dance again





march two thousand nineteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Post Navigation

%d bloggers like this: