jdubqca

poetry by j matthew waters

Archive for the tag “beauty”

cracking open the code to beauty and harmony


there is something inside you
secretly killing you
planted somewhere unknown
since the day you were born

there is no code to crack
to reveal its destructive nature
or its specific location
and because its existence
is secretly inside you
there is nothing to fret about

by the time the secret is finally revealed
the way in which it affects you
will in no way define
the rest of the story
you are bound and determined to tell




august two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

the beautiful and the silent


she arrived unannounced
redirected from an unknown god
breaching the exosphere without a sound

though coming to life by starlight
she disguised herself as human
finding solace within her own garden

as time passed the ground flourished
showcasing colors never before seen
reshaping the landscape of a parallel world



april two thousand seventeen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

watercoloring


it takes much longer than seven days
to create something as beautiful as you
but here I sit on the veranda
trying to figure it all out

there is no rushing perfection
there is only absorbing
taking in what light there is
and channeling into something else

mixing yellows and greens
and all sorts of shades of blue
the white of the moon
the white of a rabbit’s foot
of an eggshell
or a lost soul

certain brushes make better oceans
certain vessels travel magically through time
transmitting snapshots of sunrises
never before seen

and here on the veranda
light slowly crawls to the surface
waves softly slapping my face


july two thousand sixteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

thunder and lightning


don’t be afraid
there is nothing wrong
now that the light is gone
now that the pain
once permanent like the
morning sun
has transitioned into
a vague sensation

I didn’t mean to scare you
but you had fallen
into an endless dream
inching in the void
searching for candles
whispering to yourself
what wickedness
takes away such power

alas it was not meant to be
the irises in your eyes
plucked away
by the angels of the sky
taking you further
and further away
promising their beauty
will last forever


may two thousand sixteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

the beauty of being yourself


sometimes it seems everybody
wants to be somebody
they are not
continuously searching for something
that may or may not
turn them into someone more beautiful
than they already are


may two thousand sixteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

narcissus


show me something pretty
she said
something that will make me smile
and say oh my
the world is so wonderful

I drew a daffodil
emerging from an inch of snow
her golden inflorescence in
stark contrast to the dilapidated
barn in the background

she’s perfect she said
but I’m saddened
nobody in the world
except herself
will behold her beauty



march two thousand fourteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

time and again


I keep those long-lived regrets
wrapped tight and away from the light
placed in the deep freeze
the furthermost corner of my mind

those days sitting on the cold tiled floor
gluing back together eggshells are no more
replaced by looking around and
seeking light emanating from
every single living thing

relaxed by warm shadows lengthening
from the fading summer’s sun
I imagine things have a way of working out
if we only allow impending events
to unfold as nature intended

from the seed to the stem to the beauty
blossoming from the light of day
we capture alive the fleeting moments
forever freezing them time and time again


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

sometimes I see her


there is this beauty
inside you
existing secretly
behind the artificiality
of your everyday routine

this beauty inside you
speaks to me
in my living dreams
allows me to understand
it’s smothered beneath
your colorful skin

the beauty that is yours
dies to be noticed
and so you continue
to scratch the surface
hoping to find her


october two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Inside My Lazy Susan


I wonder what lie inside
my lazy susan all these years
what one staple could it be
stashed away yet unafraid

Does she know I know she’s there
unseen and protected
by jars of peanut butter and
bags of tiny chocolate chips

Was it neglect or selfishness
that kept you in the dark
or was it simply my stupidity
not noticing how beautiful you are

october two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Nothing but a Vestigial Drawing


Thousands of miles from home, viewing gardens
I’ve been meaning to plant, I sit and sketch
with charcoal on textured paper a perfect,
utopian presence like that place in Genesis.

The hotel makes me honestly welcomed
from the “Sirs” to the stars to the telephone
in the commode. In the drawing I see myself
never leaving, ever. I am drawn to be within

The shades of grass and green, contemplating
the reasons I should ever leave the stone
and glass and fabric and hospitality
that has enveloped me in this lofty balcony.

Below the waters are warm. The bodies
are near and brown, living out temporary
yet simple days, their imperfections hidden
beneath the moonlight, their conversations distant,

Calming and inviting. It takes almost nothing
to remove myself from a world a million miles
away; takes a conscious effort to check out
and return with nothing but a vestigial drawing.



original version penned nineteen ninety-eight
rewritten and recorded july two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

stepping stones


your garden is all grown up
said the daughter
to the old man as they
sat in front of the fire pit
listening to the wood talk

she remembered way back when
there were stepping stones
throughout the garden
and she would jump from one stone
to the next like you would
playing hopscotch

the stones were still there
camouflaged beneath the jungle
barely noticeable amongst the greenery
blossoming a spectrum of colors
rainbows inspired to imitate

do you remember
when we put in the stepping stones
asked the old man

yes I do
answered the daughter
I was just thinking about that





june two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

genome projects


this old blue jewel continuously
reinvents herself
through orderly chaos
using beautifully destructive forces
to tear herself down and rise again
in unimaginable creativity

she is her own god forever conjoined
with the serene sky
the strands of creation
emitting sparks from her fingertips
fashioning transcendental elements
into a supernatural world



june two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

a brush with death


you hide your beauty behind
your deepest thoughts
deceived into believing
there is nothing left to share

generations of ingenuity
push your instincts
and test your resolve
to fashion the unthinkable

end result is earth shattering
and unbreakable
as you reveal one final time
your undying creativity



april two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

eight hundred flowers


on the most sorrowful day floral arrangements
accompany the winding road

as the birds of the field sing their joyful songs
nearby wildflowers weep and sway

newly clipped roses wrapped in paper produce
smiles once believed long gone

wherever a child is knee-deep in raw color
never let time pass away



april two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

all along the lighthouse


adrift on a raft
with no land in sight
you lie back
and make friends
with a setting sun

lost in dreams
the bulging moon
wrecks havoc
on brainwaves
regenerating

distant stars
seek rolling waves
tossing you
into a whirlpool
of endless light



march two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

painted horse


the little ones gathered ‘round
ratcheting their bottoms
against the carpet as if trying to
permanently stay in place

you see
the old man began
bobbing his head
in the old days
you could drive out to the country
with your sweetheart by your side
leaving a trail of dust behind you
weaving your way through rolling hills
where rows of corn stretch toward the sun
and gigantic cows feed on fields
that forever stay green

once you reach the sign
with the painted horse
you abandon the car
and walk hand in hand down a narrow lane
leading you to an antiquated world
where you first learn to saddle your new best friend
and ride off into the sunset
with courage and grace



march two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

may i have this dance


there is a place beyond the horizon
where the moon bounces off the waves
and creatures of the deep
reveal themselves for all to see

there is a place beyond the sea
where stars are reborn
time and time again
giving new meaning to eternity

there is a place within your heart
forever caring
forever evolving
and forever trying to quiet
the madness from within

there is a place outside this world
where we will meet again
where the orchestra is perfectly refined
and we hold on for our dear lives
as we dance forever into the night



february two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

polar opposites


beauty arises from the dirt
born of age-old comets
and earthly delights
photosynthetic arms
feeding on the sun
and supporting a smile
colorful and wide

beneath the surface
a neural network
grows in an opposing way
stretching and penetrating
though the darkness
weaving absolute lifelines
for the blind to grasp


february two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

landslide


for centuries the sloping hill
produced a bouquet of artistry
sewn into the grass
and handpicked by flower children

an annual blizzard blanketed
the hill and invited participants
to hasten up and down
using any means possible

as the city slowly crawled outward
leaving concrete in its wake
the sloping hill cried
shaking and moaning and hurting

the forward motion gradually
violated the internal integrity
of her existence
until one day without warning
she simply sailed away


january two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

what’s your name


we used to rehearse our lines
in the lounge at memorial hall
back when you could
smoke cigarettes inside
and buy drafts of beer for fifty cents

I recall saying I would never
forget those lines but
they seem to have escaped me
and I am left with only a memory
of how the sunlight
bounced off the glass-framed
paintings hanging on the walls
making your eyes
appear as a certain shade of green
that for some reason reminded me
of the time I sailed the aegean sea



january two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

expecting


i’m expecting my baby home
any time
expecting her to open
the door
and greet me with that
smile
i haven’t seen
since telling me
she never felt more alive



december two thousand twelve
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

the escort


you entered my life
in a most unexpected way
leaving me to dwell
on all things
naturally good
giving me a sliver of hope
for achieving peace
within
before i am escorted
out the door



december two thousand twelve
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

standing watch


the children stitched me together
with love and enthusiasm
dreamed up of ways
of making me beautiful
despite my mean intentions

with imagination my rigid body
became larger than life
filled with natural fibers
grown from the ground
surrounding their home

though i was unable to stroll
along fields of grain
that seemed to never end
I alone stood watch
and marveled at the way
they forever loved me




november two thousand twelve
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

sound barrier


the room trembled with silence
as i sat alone on the high chair
punching keys and the space bar
with fingers and thumbs

moments earlier the silence
was interrupted with the clip clip clipping
of the fingernail clipper
and i remember thinking
what a masterful invention it was
as i purposely cut the left hand nails
much shorter than the right

the room’s silence grew louder
with terrible thoughts racing out of my mind
ricocheting off the walls and ceiling and floor
before returning to my fingers
and magically appearing on the plasma screen

i remember thinking it was such an awful silence
as tears of joy swelled in my eyes
my fingers racing millions of miles per millisecond
traveling beyond space and time
before crashing beautifully
into this alien creation



october two thousand twelve
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

the apprentice


i snuck into the world
through a backdoor
you carved into a rolling hill
where you worked the earth
with your creative hands

with perfection in mind
you made my eyes
the lightest shade of blue
and my skin varied
depending upon the light

your blood flowed within
nourishing my heart
and strengthening my mind
as i learned how the earth
recycles all living things

through time and patience
i came to understand
how the secrets of the clay
could beautify and nourish
a world starving for love



october two thousand twelve
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

the sad tavern


we talked for hours
after the football game
starting where we left off
thirty years ago

we sat in the very same
booth, where in the day
i wrote short stories
while putting down pints

sometimes we’d sit
at the bar and chain-smoke
sipping on coffee
in between classes

you haven’t changed a bit
she said, laughing;
a reminder how she loved
to tell white lies

once in the corner
on a cold rainy night
i wept like a baby
ruining my story

after hearing the news
you searched me out
held me in your arms
until the bar closed

you know, she said,
you’ll meet her again
and her beauty
will take you away

melancholy struck me
as she covered my wrist
with her hands,
closing her eyes



august two thousand twelve
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

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