poetry by j matthew waters

Archive for the tag “art”

By art itself

I’m not too concerned
if I don’t hear from you again
you see I have you locked
in this utopia
complete with a flower garden
apple tree & snake
white sands nearby & heavenly
clouds up above

You’re not the only one
to have it made there alive
the rest of us recirculating the works
filling stadiums with zealots
and unlocking
more & more mysteries
some by way of science
but more often than not by art

january two thousand twenty-two
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

younger than I really am

there is art in the air
you can see it
smell it
feel it
you can breathe it in
and exhale with a complete
sense of satisfaction

there is a sense of security
that art brings
to the table
whether seen or heard
or simply vibrating
through the atmosphere
like a hundred billion molecules

play me a song with your fingers
painting surreal pictures
inside my head
making me younger
than I really am
and giving me the courage
to start all over again

february two thousand twenty
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

reconciling the world of art

addicted to art you look for inspiration
in most unusual places
taverns with motorcycles
hanging on walls
farmer markets with chocolate
covered butterflies and vegan jerky
sidewalks littered by children
carrying buckets of colored chalk

those walking dead around you
have limited value
as you attempt
to reconcile your obsessions
with mundane surroundings
your ordinary thoughts souring
your true intention of discovering
a way to master vivid imaginings

your dreams are not enough
you need to put them into action
and so you interact with the
world around you
the unpredictable one
the irreconcilable one
the pretty one and the ugly one
the one that comes and goes
as she pleases

march two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

triangles in her eyes

the sails in this watercolor look
like albino shark fins
she said while stretching her
neck to one side

the whitecaps are amazing
she went on to say
they’re perfect equilaterals
one rolling into the next
below the prismatic horizon

she stared at the painting
for another minute
dabbing at her eyes before
reaching out for my hand

what’s the matter I asked her

I’m bored to death she said
we’ve got to get out of this place

january two thousand sixteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

One Summer in Vienna

The last time we danced in Vienna
the stock market had yet to crash
and the very idea of Austria as her
very own state seemed preposterous

Though a Yankee I spoke perfect German
both in and out of
pubs and proper places
quick to blame my loving Mother when
questioned about my presence

I remember you telling me Vienna would
never be harmed
because you said
she represents the soul in everyone

I remember you telling me
the foundation era would blossom into
a flower of unimaginable artistry and peace

I believed everything you told me
just like it was yesterday

Detained for questioning for what I believed
had everything to do with your talents
how could it be I would never see you again
left to search your peaceful streets
as the world around us
descends into chaos

march two thousand fifteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

down on the farm

she thought she knew
the difference between
art and trash
but when her life
became such a mess
everything around her
became just plain wrong

I’ll be damned she thought
ripping up the dear john letter
if that racist poet hasn’t resorted
to exploiting sex slaves again

desperate for fresh air
she walks the yard
and spits on the ceramic pig
pissed at the world
and swearing to herself one day
someone will rescue her from
this godforsaken farm

march two thousand fourteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

I know it when I see it

your desire for beauty
is lost
in your bouts of hatred for anything
you can’t comprehend
or attempt to understand
forcing yourself
to react uncontrollably instead of
pausing for reflective thought

I wished I had never taken you
that day they forced you
out of the museum
your legs kicking
and arms flailing
repeatedly shouting that picasso
was nothing but a chauvinistic pig

february two thousand fourteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Inside the City

Inside the city thousands converge
on the open market regardless the weather
The allure is captured in historical relevance
where honest exchanges of trade and art
played out for centuries with civility

At the center of the square an acting troupe
dressed as traditional chess pieces
reenact the ‘56 match between Byrne and Fischer
the characters moving on the checkered stage
as commanded by the intelligentsia

Relaxing on a bench I breath in the city’s past
contemplate how its future could possibly change
A block away a string quartet starts in on Mozart
compelling me to walk among the people
and toward yesterday’s perfection

april, two thousand twelve
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Art the Beautiful Pheasant

Art the beautfiul pheasant
so wanted to be a partridge
dreamed of living
in a pear tree
on Christmas day

Boundaries kept him at bay
limited his Las Vegas odds
of surviving
Iowa fields
for another season

Art the beautiful pheasant
forged ahead in colorful pride
turned shrubbery
into a birdcave
and survived the winter

Such ingenuity and foresight
found favor with the gods
aided the bird
and his clan
to march further south

Art the beautiful pheasant
so wanted to be a partridge
but settled for life
in a sanctuary
on the Mississippi

december, two thousand eleven
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Painting by Renée C Winkel (click to enlarge)

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