jdubqca

poetry by j matthew waters

Archive for the category “Nature”

make amends with you


an endless sky and sun so close
melting muscle into bone
stripping clothes from your back
surrendering to your natural self

you’ve taken to this task before
making amends with yourself
peeling one layer after another
sweeping dead skin into tin can

do not confuse the sun with fire
the latter of which burns man-made
objects to the ground
the other capable of recreating
your own ashes into something new




july two thousand nineteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

what have I become


how am I to follow suit
on such a sorrowful day
sun beating down so hard
keeping even ants
from working on the hill

he had died in my dream
countless times
but now that I’m older
than the dream itself
others may visualize
my youthful presence
as a mere memory

I never should have followed
irrational commands
disturbing the soil
where the earth god
works her timeless magic

what have I become
if not a shadow
of my former self
having shed thoughts
of those who made me
instead focused
on rebuilding hills I once
foolishly destroyed




july two thousand nineteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

wildflowers in the wind


I wish to be intimate with ideas
that have yet to materialize
brought on by a slight breeze
brushing against my cheek
and slightly opening my eyes

out of thin air they arrive
and mysteriously disappear
incomplete thoughts needing
nurturing and time to mature
like sporadic seeds in the air

I wonder how they’ll affect me
these intimately idyllic ideas
existing in the peripheral
occasionally testing my mettle
as if they know me better than me




june two thousand nineteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

aerial conversations


I forgive and forget
it’s easy to do
or so the birds of the sky
tell me so

they speak to me often
believing I’m not listening
but I fool them
and take everything in

there’s nothing to forgive
ergo nothing to forget
I keep telling myself
like a man in a trance

when I’m alone
the birds of the sky
keep me company
they think I don’t notice
but I most certainly do

as time passes
they learn to trust and believe
feeding from my hand
as I stand like a statue in the wind
my eyes fixed
above the setting sun

they speak about life
and speak about death
but when I ask what will come next
their chatting becomes silence
and I am left to imagine
all on my own





may two thousand nineteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

precious is the night


I was looking for some sort of sign
a little something to let me know
you were alive and well

as the electrical storm rolled in
I could detect your precious thoughts
coming through in fits and starts

though the pain in my hands
worsened from the impending doom
I managed to subdue my foreboding
whilst transcribing reassuring poetry





may two thousand nineteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

late bloomers


it still feels like April
the world going nowhere fast
like a vinyl forty-five spinning
soundlessly on a turntable

of course there’s nothing
wrong with slowing things down
at least according to Simon
who relentlessly kicks
down cobblestones

cool rain comes and goes
like a game of peek-a-boo
tamping down
good-intentioned deeds
and daffodil dreams

despite all the outside noise
a quietness remains within
silently reminding you
there’s always a way out





may two thousand nineteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

change in forecast


the hour is fast approaching
and the well has run dry

a mother sends her child with pail
in hand out into the wild
instructed not to return home
empty-handed

the city is safer than the jungle
during the rainy season
talking heads on social media
furthering the debate

a fire breaks out in the country
ignited by lightning
chasing four-legged chattel
into the next county

a daughter sits alone in chair
rocking slowly in the dry heat
feeding her thoughts with patience
while practicing her breathing

the hour is fast approaching
and suddenly the well is overflowing





april two thousand nineteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

attracting butterflies


how the garden grows
in my absence

photos clicked and sent
my way via
short message service

I don’t own a device
anymore
but I can still receive

be they still or moving
or downright blossoming
it matters not

I like the bleeding hearts best
almost always first
or second to arrive
depending upon the winter

I promise I’ll be back soon
it’s only temporary
where I’ve been
or where I’m going

if memory serves me right
the tulips will be next





april two thousand nineteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

drawing lines in the sand


with earth day fast approaching
how cannot images of
cosmic collisions cross my mind
planets spinning
dramatically out of control
elsewhere within the milky way

astrologically speaking
the local gods continue
to reconsider scientific law
the orion arm their local playground
occasionally bringing
mother nature to her knees





april two thousand nineteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

wondering what tomorrow will bring


white swans on the lake
united as a collective or afloat
as solitary souls
spotted here and there
like triangular sails at a standstill
soft and steady raindrops
pelleting the reflective surface
all around them

soon all daylight will be gone
and I will have exhausted my stay
an unfamiliar melancholy
sinking in as replacement lights
emerge one by one
leaving me wondering
how long the swans will remain
after I’m gone





april two thousand nineteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

the big thaw


sheets of ice seem to be shrinking
right before our very eyes
but where are all the puddles I ask you
shouldn’t there be countless
puddles of mud

you give me the cold shoulder
retreating effortlessly
and just like those large sheets of ice
you recoil unto yourself
leaving not a drop in your wake





march two thousand nineteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

momentary levitation


we danced and we laughed
far into the night
moonlight in our eyes
and tomorrow nothing
but a meaningless notion

invisible music plays
against the wind
turning tree branches
into violin strings
and sounding like
birdsong vibrations

we dance and we laugh
far into the night
while tomorrow is simply
a notion in our minds
that may or may not
come to pass





march two thousand nineteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

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