jdubqca

poetry by j matthew waters

Archive for the tag “cats”

bitter creek


bitter creek flows through quiet earth
shaping butterflies and recycling tales of
rivers carving out new tomorrows

peyote blossoms flourish on the border
desert beauties dispensing spiritual guidance
sometimes influenced by bitter creek

old-school artisans steal from night sky
charting reflections onto banks of bitter creek
exposing black cats and neon damselflies

this place comes and goes as she pleases
tricking and mimicking and repeatedly born again



september two thousand seventeen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

looking for miss molly


the dude called midmorning
asking if his car was at my place

you took off with her after
punching six tequila shots into
my foyer’s drywall
(have you tried looking out
your back window (asshole))

I’m surprised the dude is still alive
awake and sounding halfway sober
but then again nothing’s changed
he’s always looked half his age

okay he says but call me back if you
hear anything (and oh yeah)
I’m looking for miss molly too

I hang up and shake every
thought from my crowded head

all this time the cat’s
been sitting pretty at the bay window
curiously studying fat robins
feasting on dried crabapples



september two thousand seventeen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

diary of a gravedigger


I have this cat in a bag with no intentions
of ever letting out
lest I be ridiculed or bullied about

it’s nothing remotely earth-shattering
but it’s private and I’ve
considered burying it one last time
but when opening the bag
he gives out this god-awful sound
that only a mother could love

of course I release him to the wild
praying we’ll meet up again
one day



august two thousand seventeen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

witness to the image


black cat saunters in and out of brambles
spreading freely along roller coaster road

I know I’ve seen those eyes before I do declare
electronic compass pointing due south
speedometer approaching twice the limit

next time I swear I’m going to slow down
and get myself a better look
because I know deep down
I’ve witnessed that instance before



may two thousand seventeen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

The cosmonaut and the cat


I’m not going to space without my cat
I told them
and all of sudden they start this foolish
talk about bumping me

It’s a little too late for that don’t you think
I tell them
and a day later
they agreed the cat can go



may two thousand seventeen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

dinner for four


the dogs were in the kitchen
sniffing the tile and looking away
whenever I glanced back
over my left shoulder

they knew better
but nonetheless tested the limits
of their sensory curiosity

opening the lid to the beef tips
I picked up the wooden spoon and
growled something incoherently

they immediately receded
to their respective corners
giving way to the grey tiger
crouching in the shadows



april two thousand seventeen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

the nine mercenaries


he looked like the kind of cat
who always hung out
and nobody really noticed
sinking into a piece of furniture
worn out by cheetos and
baked over the years
by ultraviolet rays

on occasion
and for months on end
he would vanish
monthly rent payments
arriving like clockwork inside
legal envelopes postmarked from
cairo or algiers or timbuktu

eventually returning he
managed to escape headlines
and ticker tape parades
opting to stealthily appear
in his favorite spot
licking his wounds and
counting down the days



october two thousand sixteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

lost and unfound


the cat chased the crescent moon
deep into the night
encountering near death experiences
along the way
living and dying by the hour
until inevitably unseen

with the scent of the cat
fresh in the dog’s
sensory perceptions
he searched for days on end
until finally losing track of
his long-lost friend

promising to return another day
the dog headed back home
guided by a bright satellite
looming over the city
stray cats springing from the shadows
and jumping over the moon




Oscar & Chester


january two thousand sixteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Quantum Mechanics 901


Her name was Resurrection
and she was caught by surprise
many a times
mainly resulting in her own demise

She often fancied herself a catfish
and loved to swim in a sea of names
dominated by tasty tuna
she just couldn’t get enough of

I once tried talking her down from the roof
but she would have nothing to do with it
and weeks would go by before
I would see her again

She often mentioned she would love
to meet Schrödinger in the afterlife
if nothing other than comparing notes
on the natural order of things



july two thousand fifteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

I’m your Captain


everyone notices the stars
when they’re drunk from excess work
and cheap rum

at midnight the lights
disappeared and the parrots
were barely audible

under cover wicked winds
slowly rushed in
made worse by the waxing gibbous
stretching and reaching and
slapping the crew back to life

come high noon the ship idled choppingly
off-course but no longer taking in water

angry and hungry a few well-chosen men
hunt down the black cat
spooked and in hiding with her captain
feeling sick and anything but mighty



june two thousand fifteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

the start of a brand new day


there’s something missing he said
opening the refrigerator
pulling out a mcintosh and
gutting it with the round steel slicer

deliberately he ate slice after slice in
complete silence
focusing on the uneasy feeling
deep inside his core

outside on the front patio he heard
the daily paper kicking the door

out back a stray cat cried in the cold
garnering the attention of camouflaged chickadees
sitting quietly from within the pines

a gust of wind brought forth new life
from the many wind chimes

beneath his feet he feels the morning train
beginning to roll from a few miles away
a good forty minutes late he tells himself

as the first whistle blows
the sun breaks free from the clouds


january two thousand fifteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

number nine doesn’t live here


you rarely recall that night
you should have died
yet every time it surfaces
you completely understand
how kissing the world goodbye
is as simple as
landing on your feet

you imagine you were born
a feline with siamese blood
running through your veins
a cool cat who’s been
around the block six or seven
or eight times
but certainly not nine

crouched behind a waning moon
you patiently wait for hope to rise
above the horizon
feeding your mind with
enlightenment
giving you courage to carry on
yet another day



december two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Post Navigation

%d bloggers like this: