jdubqca

poetry by j matthew waters

portrait of an artist


you’ve a fearless imagination she tells him
as he positions himself at the easel
placing certain charcoals on the tray

you’re beautifully sublime this morning he replies
I love what you’ve done to your eyes
but please stay relaxed and keep talking to me
and hold that cigarette up just a little higher

I’ve been so bored lately she exhales
cloud of smoke drifting toward the back light
her neck craning backwards
her head dropping back on the futon
jet black hair sinking into white pillow

I know dear I know he says
sketching feverishly
stopping ever so briefly for a mouthful
of homemade farm fresh ale

I’ve missed you she says
but you’re always coming and going
you never have time for me anymore

yes yes yes he says
please pull your slip up just a little higher
I need to feel more of your inner mystique




august two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

his eloquent elocution


he was electrocuted like some uncommon criminal
right there on live television for all the galaxy to see

federation of planets feared his demise was
anything but permanent
summoning their agents across vast jurisdictions
as herod once did

there is no telling what will come next
once the newborn has survived infancy
growing unnoticed and unadulterated
ultimately mastering his eloquent elocution




august two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

the interview


she asked me to talk about myself
and I started off by saying
I didn’t know where to begin
but I’ll pretend as if I do

off course it was a loaded question
so I proceeded to take a deep breath
and quietly backed away from the ledge

I was a middle child and therefore
often left to my own devices I said
further clarifying I work well independently
but can positively strive in groups as well
should circumstances warrant

slowly she blinked her eyes
nodding smilingly
taking the end of her pencil to her chin
politely asking me to proceed
and for a very brief moment in time
I felt as if I had been down this path before
had already lived and breathed
inside her complex company




august two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

five hundred pieces


the creation does not manifest itself
without mindless coordination
between hand and eye
without hours of problematic troubleshooting
deliberately testing pairs of pieces
that appear to be identical

as days & nights pass by
I find ways to make each one brand new
unsure what my next move may be
but certain to find that one tile
capable of instilling inspiration
or uncovering a moment of mastery

    the piece I possess
    will unlock all the mysteries of the world

    the piece I possess
    will reveal all our earthly perplexities


unsure why the effort ever was initiated
fully aware the completion is only a beginning
I sort through the five hundred pieces anyway
confident that the opening of the
multi-dimensional looking-glass
will produce an image I’ve longed to understand




august two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

the artist and I


we will cross the river
the artist and I
and we will find a new outlet
to call our home
and we will sleep as one
falling in and out of
romantic daydreams
evening sun hiding her
eyes behind decorative fan
rising moon reaching out
to gently awaken us
so that we may create again




july two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

twenty-four crayons


staring at a blank white wall
you remember how once
it was covered with rainbows
and parrots and sunshine
apple trees in full bloom
and children pointing up at the sky
clouds and birds and kites
poking their imaginations

it’s saturday morning
you’re sitting in the conservatory
patiently waiting for sun
to eclipse the treeline
casting her magical rays
on your box of twenty-four crayons
anxious to start replacing
that which was washed away




july two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

mockingbird


close your eyes and count backwards from three
and see what the world will give you

close your eyes and make a wish you’ve never wished before

to be sure your soul may be hurting but there is nothing
wrong with your sight or your heart or your mind

hush little baby and close your big beautiful eyes
for it’s time to dream of new worlds that await you

hush little baby and let loose your imagination
and whatever it is you may do
please don’t you cry




july two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

suspended breaths in retrograde


all these years I’ve denied my past
having brushed aside
my quirks and missteps as
everyday lessons
picking myself up without regret or remorse
moving forward with an uncertain purpose
as if there could never be an end

and now there is oxygen to consider
to feed those inner thoughts
reviving them so to speak
weighing good points against bad
neither condemning nor condoning
but simply acknowledging
how a young boy died to be a man




july two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

not your final destination


I heard it on the radio
childhood memories
reformatted for the digital age
revolutionary forces
transformed from past to present
longtime secrets resurrected
playing loud and clear on
intergalactic airwaves




july two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

where trumpets blare and angels sing


illusory winds swept me northwesterly
carrying me from one destination to the next
as if I had no idea where I would land
or how I could have possibly arrived there

gravity eluded me and I wondered
whether I was dead or alive
had I mysteriously grown my own wings
soaring on my own accord
or was I hitched to the back of some
wild and magical invisible creature

approaching the magnetic pole
flight patterns give way to controlled chaos
disappearing into mystical aurora
casting me back to where I once started




july two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

the night is endless


the day grows weary
unrelenting heat
southern winds
falling sun illuminating
quarter-size moon
rising from the east

fearful to fall asleep
morning sun comes too soon
or maybe not all
incomplete images
shuttering and fluttering
like black and white
moving pictures

I keep the shades drawn
nearly all the way
save an inch or two
just enough room
to let the rooster look in

the night is endless
this much we know
instinctively we cling
to the morning light
and celebrate
for all it’s worth




july two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

mirror for the sun


widening curves and picking up speed
mind free from yesterday’s rearview
reminds me of day trippin’ ditty
traveling purposely with favorite allies
bags packed but mindlessly left behind

we’ve not been down this road before
but how she sure looks oh so familiar
holding tight as we lean around the bend
keeping screams to ourselves before
letting loose down straight and narrow

fm radio streaming without static
cooler in back keeping coronas cold
we chase a sideways moon sinking into sea
determined to find the end of the road
and drive a stake into a brand new day




july two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

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