jdubqca

poetry by j matthew waters

connecting dots


where do you go from here
now that loved ones have moved on
their light recalibrating far from center
revolving in intellectual circles
you no longer dare dream

creativity rests in dormant state
summoned on infrequent occasions
from crevices of an aging mind

matters of the heart remain intact
driving thoughts deeply inward
brightly colored like a rainbow
free-floating and nearly touchable
piquing a past ripe with possibilities




december two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

present tense


what remains is what remains
once the riptide disrupts the flow

winter snow dissolves into thin air
revealing what was thought to be dead

north wind arrives before the dawn
energetic and surprisingly warm

fingers and toes begin to wiggle
deep inside the belly of the creator

there is comfort in barren trees
supported by the richness of the earth

fear not the ghostly new moon rising
giving reason to breathe yet again




december two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

the greatest quest


locked inside this snow white cube
I secretly dream of making
my great escape
unfreezing time by traveling
to a distant land
or leaping forward
into another dimension

I’ve been invited to do this before
but always backed down
at the final hour
afraid of heightening my
self-awareness
and finally achieving
my true potential




december two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

chatting over mid-morning coffee


take special care
not to beat yourself up
just because of
misplaced memories

your word against the truth
may or may not exist
not in this world
or the next

subconscious realities
keep me on edge
like pressure cooker time bombs
ticking in city square

I’ve long felt most relaxed
back in the future
where love is in the air
and nights rarely end




december two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

unexpected change


I got fifty bucks in my pocket
and I’m going downtown
gonna buy my girl some flowers
and maybe have a beer or two

taking city bus to city center
I keep my hands in my pockets
sitting down on three-seater bench
tapping foot in make-believe time

nobody owes me nothing
and I sure ain’t in anyone’s debt
I got fifty bucks in my pocket
sun shining brightly overhead




december two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

the law of attraction


I surrender to the wind
like a kite without a tether
sailing across a sea of change


I’ve been in love before
but this time it was too late
for you see I simply drifted past
the pulling of the tides
becoming closer to the moon
than anything else




december two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

fifteen makes five


five fifteen in the morning
I focus on my breathing
nearly twenty seconds it takes
to inhale and exhale
three times makes one minute
fifteen makes five


along the way I lose track
and for a moment
I find myself back in time
some sort of cosmic energy
hurtling me forward
then dragging me down

this path I take is legendary
at times god forsaken
other times a godsend
always beckoning me
offering abundance on one hand
and betrayal on another

before the rising sun
washes away the stars
introducing its ultraviolet rays
with creative passion
I slowly blink open my eyes
at five twenty in the morning



december two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

thinking things through


how dare you forget
she reminded herself
having come to terms
with how easily
it’s become
to not remember

in the back of her mind
she knew he’d never forgot
about the why or where or when
he just needed a little push
an incidental nudge
to make him think things through
circling back to a time
when reaching a certain age
doesn’t seem
to hold as much weight
as it does today



december two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserve

what’s for dessert?


tell my doctor
I’m not losing any sleep
over bacon and eggs
biscuits and sausage
or a tasty cup of coffee

fire up the griddle mama
we’re gonna bump up the volume
and turn this humdrum mid-morning
into some kind of
sunday gospel brunch

if you look outside
you’ll see farm freshness
just about everywhere
though you may have to use
your imagination some

meanwhile back inside
sunday’s just getting started



december two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserve

when winter comes


the winter solstice is a week away
yet here am I
sitting in the bleachers with my mother
some forty years ago
watching my brother’s baseball game

it’s late august and it’s a night game
and he’s playing center field
chasing down any fly ball hit
anywhere near his vicinity
and I tell my mother how he
reminds me of Willie Mays

I had a little league game earlier in the day
but I’m still dressed in uniform
dirty pants and dirty face
dirty fingernails and dirty hair

before the sun goes down mosquitoes
land on my tanned and barren arms
and I pinch my skin where they are feasting
until my blood overwhelms their tiny bodies

by the time the ballpark lights take full effect
the temperature begins to dip
lower and lower
until eventually I cross my arms
slightly shivering

are you cold my mother asked me

yes I am I replied

oh my goodness she said
what will you do when winter comes




december two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserve

watercolor morning


oh darling
did you see the rainbow in the
early morning sky
[opposite the rising sun]
I had painted it for you
with eyes closed
far beyond
the green rolling hills

after the rains
I went slip-sliding away
[down the green
rolling hills]
running and tumbling
and somersaulting
willfully into
your watercolor eyes



december two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserve

and the beat goes on


pretend I am alive and well
breathing deeply
focusing on my heart
how it beats slowly
like a little drummer boy
bringing up the rear
marching off to war

though fear abounds
peace surrounds his heart
beating steadily and true
rhythmically purposeful
settling the nerves
of all those around him
one measure at a time

no longer afraid
the war is finally over
joy and jubilation
taking over city streets
his ever beating heart
bringing new meaning
to peace on earth




december two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserve

the eyes of the sun


in the morning I shall die
once again becoming
unpossessed
lost to the rays of the sun
like a white horse
unnoticed
and grazing
in an unfenced field

how many ensuing years
(or dare I say centuries)
shall come to pass
before completely understanding
why the sun herself
refuses to die




december two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserve

words without friends


throwing words against wall
seeing what will stick
be it war or peace
or work or play
sun or moon or stars

some stick better than others
individuals letters
peeling off now and then
turning batch into bach
or clock into cock
crow into row

sometimes it’s fun
to toss one letter at a time
like darts in a barroom
spelling heart without an E
or soul without a U
bullseye with one I

sometimes nothing sticks
and you find yourself
back in the drawing room
making words with ink
one lonely letter at a time




december two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserve

testing the multiverse theory


though the sun shines bright
there is no warmth to be found
not in deed or word or thought
the air turbid and cold to the touch
like the winter warlock himself

this world is oddly familiar
resembling places I’ve imagined
or envisioned in waking dreams
like a lost forest frozen in time
silvery trees taller than skyscrapers

many times I’ve climbed to the top
meticulous like the caterpillar
alone but at peace and determined
exercising thought into action
inescapably free falling through space




december two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserve

redundant by day and night


checking and rechecking for updates
going on twenty-four hours now
can’t seem to connect to the server
so I reboot and try again
reboot and try
again

in the background
memory reminds me lab work
is scheduled at eight a.m.
fasting time is twelve hours
but pints of ale in the fridge
keep calling my name
keep calling
my name

taking a break
I check my vital signs
blood pressure check
heart rate check
body fat better recheck
pop up window says
could lose a few pounds
lose a few pounds

this dog on my lap is dying
not enough room to be updated
not enough memory
not enough sleep
rustic technology rewiring my framework
keeping me up past midnight
rebooting and tipping tall boys
rebooting and tipping
tall boys




december two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserve

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