jdubqca

poetry by j matthew waters

Archive for the tag “autumn”

autumn leaf


there is this word on my mind
hanging like a colorful leaf on a branch
a few inches out of reach

by the time morning arrives
it is no longer dangling
rather part of collective whole
mixed with all the others
strewn across the lawn

for a moment I ponder the importance
of getting down on hands and knees
uncovering the very word
etched on my mind
holding it up to my eyes
like the holiest of grails
and memorizing its every detail




november two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

and the last shall be first


summer dies and autumn awakens
another beginning to the fatal end
inevitable like simple thoughts
segueing into fantastical dreams

night skies are clear and stars abound
shooting and falling abysmally
luckiest person alive looking upward
casting doubts on winning streak

open windows suddenly become shut
weakening sun filtering through
giving hope to those with tired eyes
blinking and dying to see tomorrow




september two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

suddenly there is no tomorrow


my feet are hurting but my heart
is beating just fine
it may have skipped
once or twice or trice
simply by finding you here

we always look forward to october
though hate to see september
slowly burning in rearview
like those hybrid pumpkins
glowing in the twilight

there are no perfect days
but the harvest moon
is as cool as cool can be

and you kiss me unexpectedly



september two thousand seventeen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

waiting on deck


september’s death
rests inside a fielder’s glove
her final breaths elongated
lilting and fading
elegantly purposeful

she would not be happy
knowing what follows next
her boys of summer in full costume
exhaling the uncertain air and
parading out past twilight
clumsily swatting bats




september two thousand fourteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Dances with leaves


I stood looking out the window
at a small pile of leaves
I had raked and forgotten about

Damn I thought
I can’t believe I left behind this pile of leaves

It was then as I had these thoughts the wind
came out of nowhere
hitting the pile of burnt colors
and sending them high into the air

Hey honey I yelled
you’ve got to come see this
the leaves are dancing

Crosswinds continued lifting the
leaves higher than eye level
twisting them into a stream of
irregular circular motion
fully fluid yet shapely
as if produced by a child
playing spirograph on a table

Hey honey I yelled
you’ve got to come see this

This time she leaned her head back
and turned her neck my way

What is it she asked – I’m reading

The leaves are dancing I said
you’ve got to come see this

First there was a pause as the
leaves continued to dance
and then there was closure


october two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

When November Comes


It doesn’t matter what day it is
and no one seems to care
which way the wind blows.
The only thing that seems to matter
is November will arrive without fanfare,
and now everything can get on with dying.

The day might be bright but it will be short;
city parks will be littered with leaves
that never completely dry.
Street walkers and their dogs
will be hard to recognize
once November has taken hold.

Towering trees become dancing skeletons
reaching out for a partner in the sky.
Peering through their branches
at just the right time,
Venus or the Moon or the Sun
can be spotted, pretending
to be ornaments dangling.


When November Comes

november two thousand eleven
rewrite october two thousand twelve
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

The Shadow of Billy Capp


The shadow of Billy Capp
drifted along Little Mill
encouraging anyone
to venture further inside
the once private property.

It was a hundred years
to the day Billy Capp
was shot in a poker game
the ace of spades found
buried beneath his sleeve.

Legend has it he was chained
and dragged to Little Mill
where he was anchored
into a seven foot pool
that moonless autumn night.

Come springtime the body of
Billy Capp had diminished
into a spectral mist
forever daring any brave soul
to test the sterile water.



october two thousand twelve
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

all things new again


autumn arrives right on time
a reminder that none of us
can forever enjoy
the endless days of light

early in the morning
when the sky is untouched
by a belated sun
you are awakened by little leaves
knocked around by tortuous winds
forming strength as a collective
and striking window panes
as if they were sheets of rain

nothing can escape the transition
into this slow death
where you are bound
to experience the creepiness
entering your soul
leaving you hungry and cold
and wishing for all things new again


click here for youtube video

september two thousand twelve
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Before the First Frost


Whispers could be heard
Beneath the leaves,
The ones fallen seasons ago
When there was no reason
To believe time would ever end.

Softly worded thoughts
Seemed to travel close to home,
Yet when trying to pinpoint
The source it became clear
It was something universal.

Out of disharmony beautiful
Music seemingly appeared,
Played by angels pretending
To be popular, nestled
Comfortably in the backyard
On a cool autumn evening.



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

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