poetry by j matthew waters

throwing caution to the wind

I’m just a two-bit actor
asked to sit still and observe
ticket holders weaving their
way through popcorn lines

what I want to say is that
the movie is in your head
replaying the same scene
in so many different ways

the first time around I was
smoking on a park bench
imagining I was with them
playing frisbee golf

of course that scene was cut
and replaced by a younger me
burning crosses in mississippi

sometimes I sit for hours
in a room full of hopefuls
not saying a word
but rehearsing every line
I ever knew
just in case they call my name

december two thousand sixteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

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6 thoughts on “throwing caution to the wind

  1. Cello Jolie on said:

    There is something so fascinating about your poetry. Every time I read one of your poems, I think, “I can do this … write real poems. He’s just telling me a story but leaving out most of the details. Baiting me but then throwing me back. I can do that.” Then I fail, but that’s not the point. You make me want to keep trying. You’re unique, that’s what I’m trying to say. No one else does what you do. Well, that’s not true, but not exactly like you. It’s this thing I can’t grasp but am dying to keep finger-pinching at, regardless. Well, I’m into your work; that’s what I’m trying to say. 😛

    Here, I think you mean “is that” — “what I want to say it that”

    The fourth stanza is my favorite. Then the first. Then the second.

    I know exactly what you mean, staring at/in someone else’s head for hours, days, years, as if it’s a mesmerizing movie. Wanting to be in it so badly that you’re just sitting and waiting to be asked to join in on the action.

    I love how vague this is. It could have to do with a love interest, a friend, someone who intrigues you, a parent, a child. Anything would work, really. You could even be talking to yourself, saying that you’d like to be part of your life if you ever decide to let yourself. Maybe you don’t really feel like you’re being you in your walking-around life. Or in your head-life. Maybe it’s a psychiatrist talking to a patient.

    No matter what, I leave your pieces wanting the gaps filled in, but so glad they aren’t. I keep thinking about it. I come back. I go. I remember. I want more.

    • thank you for your kind comments and especially for bringing to my attention the typo! haha, but seriously, my poetry does indeed leave gaps needing filling, like a visual artist creating work subject to many interpretations.

  2. I find there is another story behind here… the story of all of us, waiting.. for something that we don’t know…

    I want to play Death in the Seventh Seal.

  3. Fascinating poetry! Nice read!

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