the ground trembled beneath bare feet
like an audible sigh from a troubled mind
even the birds paused their morning song
shifting to interpret the mother’s warning
exhausted yet incapable of finding comfort
relaxation eludes the weariest travelers
though peace on earth may one day prevail
the natural order of things indicate otherwise
february two thousand seventeen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
canopy of trees protective yet penetrable
all night rains enriching the underworld
three or four children noisily passed by
and I turned from one side to the other
as they placed stone markers near my feet
I heard one say this place should be
buried in snow
which of course made me laugh
(if only that were possible)
they continued to arrange the markers
until they were satisfied with the pattern
little did they know that their ritual
awakened an age-old spirit
and as I rose from the earth into the misty air
all they could do was run and scream
january two thousand seventeen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
it’s getting late
midwinter
the cold more than snow
wearing on me
like the moon
weighs on the ocean
the gods tell me
life is long
but there’ll be no spring
so I accept
the premise
and shift my focus
southern sun sings
lullabies
shushing darkened clouds
transforming
extreme thoughts
into peaceful waves
january two thousand seventeen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
the remedy is closer
than you think
though it seems to pass you by
undetected like an unseen
seductive glance
your god is a jealous one
though you’ve learned to accept that
needlessly questioning
her inconsistent suggestions
it would do you well to consider
the road less traveled
next time you set off on foot
clearing the mind
and patiently engaged
for the answer lies
somewhere in the wind
january two thousand seventeen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
it’s awful lonely in this box
but the beauty of it is
you can hear everything
the first thing I’m gonna do
when I break out
is move that hazelnut bush
away from the fence
roots seem to all ball up
and intermingle endlessly
when they got no place to go
but thanks to the spade
nothing ever stays
quite the same
from this season to the next
january two thousand seventeen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
they huddle around the fire
the little ones in front
wrapped in animal hides
and mesmerized by the flames
black and bedazzled
is the sky
spotlighting
exhalations of storytellers
reading from unwritten books
soundless nights accentuate
the reality of dreams
projecting and protecting
the history of a people
at one with the earth
december two thousand sixteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
candles burn where I am not
reminding me what may have been
in my little world it is quite dark
at times taking on many shapes
other times simply murmuring
I reach out and bring in pieces
from out of nowhere
meld them together in my palms
first into a ball and
then into whatever fascinations
may gradually evolve
inside each molded piece
an ember burns
invisible to the naked eye
I’ve no idea how many weeks
may pass before revealing themselves
perhaps like a seedling
breaking the surface
or a renegade meteor
breaching an otherwise impregnable sky
december two thousand sixteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
the sun won’t rise for a couple
hours more
but already the roads
are snow-covered above
and icy below
in most neighborhoods
the morning paper never arrives
and to anyone
daring to venture outside
experiences soft wood burning
and blackbirds squawking
up and down the streets
automobiles idle in driveways
or along curbsides
warming up to new ideas
(earlier a deadly accident
occurs on a lonely street corner)
you cannot hear it
nor can you sense it
you cannot even fathom it
until it slowly disseminates into the air
over a relatively short period of time
december two thousand sixteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
sometimes she rises unexpectedly
somewhat slight
and somehow bright
like a slice of lemon or orange
painted in the sky
far out west ideas stretch
and sink
fading like an autumn leaf
face to face juxtapositions often
lead to uncertainty
casting doubt
by way of a thousand lies
there are certainly higher standards
worth obtaining
but not at the cost
of having to show no mercy
december two thousand sixteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
I may not know
exactly who I am
but like the bluebird
in your heart
I’ve a good idea
who I am not
people feel compelled
to define you
without a true source
saying you are this
or you are that
adding to the confusion
all I’m saying is we
should be friends
whether you be as near
as kalamazoo
or as far away
as timbuktu
if I owned the night
I would gladly
hand it over
along with all the lights
that shine
forever in the sky
december two thousand sixteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
trees speak in your sleep
like those three dogs
chained up down the street
scratching at the aluminum fence
and digging holes in
all the wrong places
trees speak in your sleep
using the wind and
birds and insects as carriers
scratching out memos
and pontificating about the evils
of the new world order
trees speak in your sleep
sharing secrets from the shire
hosting a murder of crows
gathering above the creek
whispering incessantly
fearing you may awaken
december two thousand sixteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
the weather turned midday
as a warmish sun gave way
to coldish clouds and variable winds
nearly knee deep in blackish
backwaters
rainbow trout suddenly start
striking at mini-jigs
hand and eye react instinctively
despite scattered thoughts
racing past
slippery rocks in river bed
patience is like an acquired taste
(you tell yourself)
best served in solitary confines
the cool waters gradually
drop in temperature
yet you continue to wade
further away
dead set on an eddying pool
silently calling your name
november two thousand sixteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
the birds and the tigers
the polar bears
and the butterflies
they do not hate
no they do not hate
they may need to defend themselves
through violence or fleeing
but it is out of necessity that they
protect themselves selfishly
they may not understand
the world around them
like you or me
(or perhaps they understand it perfectly)
and while they may not think
before they act (like we are able to do)
they certainly never hate
no they never do
interestingly enough
they may react to the bulbous moon
just like me and you
only they do not make it an excuse
to hate for hatred’s sake
like too many of us often do
november two thousand sixteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
we built a fire in the fire pit
kept it going into december
when the sky was blue
and air was cold
you played violin
and I played harmonica
we sang to the fire in the sky
we prayed for the fog to roll in
the first frost came and went
but we were ill-prepared
like we always were
I keep telling you I am the same boy
you first met decades ago
and you tell me the ocean is still green
november two thousand sixteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
two sided candle
flames in the mirror enlarge
inertia building
light enters darkness
camera sans aperture
tricking gravity
pardon the grey star
lingering behind curtain
dying to explode
whole new worlds open
warp speed into asteroids
tumbling past space rocks
november two thousand sixteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
solar power paper planes
survey and scan billion acre rainforest
detecting seeds of life
planted by prehistoric man
suddenly sprouting beneath the mist
october two thousand sixteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
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