jdubqca

poetry by j matthew waters

Archive for the tag “cats”

year of the cat


she practices her violin
sitting on the spinet bench
scratching out imperfections
into the midday air

outside it’s raining softly
bookend bay windows
slightly cranked open
letting sounds in and out

the law of attraction
is a two-way street
all the strays standing tall
from the peanut gallery
watching the house favorite
rubbing ankles
with the star of the show





march two thousand nineteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

unlikely guardians


who will speak to me next
as if in tomorrow
standing here on the ground
looking up
bird’s nest in the open air
curious cat in my peripheral

I realize I’m not alone anymore
it only feels that way
stepping out of my skin
for the very first time
and looking back
through a bottomless mirror

so it seems the bird and cat
have been chosen
to encourage me on
one pushing
the other pulling
both bickering
in their own beautiful way





march two thousand nineteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

doorman takes five


so I let the cat out and in
again and again and again

I’ve taken up meditation
attempting to calm my nerves
but he keeps scratching at the screen
challenging me to hold my tongue

his entire repertoire is like a bad movie
and why I didn’t get up and go
after the first few scenes
is beyond me

I never heard of this polar vortex
but apparently it’s a real thing
forcing me to vacate the sunroom

meanwhile we’re all safely inside
staying near the fire

on occasion
he paws at a different door
and as always
continues to politic for treats




february two thousand nineteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

watching cartoons in little pink houses


everyone sees him except you
my dear inspector
walking amongst the living
and very much in the thick of things
whether taking five in the studio
[sitting cross-legged in the director’s chair]
or strolling down the walk of fame
hand in hand with julie andrews

he turns your blues into pink
right before your very eyes
but all you realize is yourself
as if that oversized magnifier
is nothing but a looking glass

some say that ever elusive diamond
never did exist
but that colorful far-out cat
now he was the real deal
blending into every kind of scenery
be it on the big screen or otherwise




january two thousand nineteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

cunning like a songbird


in the kitchen uncaged canaries
chat amongst themselves
swapping oft-told tales and
keeping secrets from
black & white cat crouched
against shadowy wall

outside red-breasted nuthatches
mimic dog barking at jet airliner
piercing cumulus clouds
waiting for aforementioned feline
to give them another chance
at target practice




december two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserve

another saturday night


don’t make me get up I yelled at the dog
(in my sleep) but it was too late

the sun had been down for god knows how long
and though I was close to REM sleep
the almighty stench abruptly woke me up

by the time I reached the kitchen
and turned on the light
the cat was meowing like a maniac
but I wasn’t sure if he was in or out

I walked to the back door
and he leapt at me from out of nowhere
shredding the back of my tee
making me nearly piss my pants

needless to say I (figuratively) kicked him
out into the night

I returned to the kitchen to clean things up
thereafter proceeding to cut up
the watermelon sitting on the counter
along with a few lemons and a dozen
or so freshly picked strawberries

it was still saturday night and since I was
wide awake with no place to go
I poured myself a beer and
retired to the next room
began trying my hand at poetry




september two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

finding your comfort zone


midnight arrives and a sudden
something wakes me from my slumber
a strike of lightning perhaps
a thunderclap inside my head

I can’t breathe here lying on this bed
lazily and precariously I remove
myself off the comforter
nearly in a trance I pretend I’m
sleepwalking down the steps

I’m far from alone on the main floor
sounds of human breathing
omnipresent and unmistakably eerie
incoherent words babbling barely

I distance myself from dark thoughts
and curl up against sunroom door
cool to the touch my warm body relaxes
moonlight waxing and shimmering
exposing my off-white stripes




august two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

postcards from afar


we thought he had moved out
for good this time
leaving behind a few possessions
nobody dared to care about

some throw pillows
a trinket or two misplaced here or there
some perishables left in the pantry
and a few dirty dishes
on or around the dining room table

though he never did pay rent
we didn’t mind him hanging out
especially on quiet saturday mornings

what gets under my skin
how he never did leave a note
or better yet sent a postcard from
some faraway place
leaving me second guessing
what could I have done
to make him feel more welcome




may two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all right reserved

sweet imagination


on a sunny sunday afternoon
we entertained
possibilities of what could be

sitting on metal chairs
cushions still in garage
lemon beer tasting ever so sweet
we pointed at unshakable signs
better things sure to come

there were many yesterdays
full of fear and hurt and doubt
but today is what you would call
a new world order

you see the mystery cat
has returned in all his glory
sporting a wide brimmed hat
entertaining us with a song and dance
smiling for the cameras




may two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all right reserved

waltzing before daybreak


wind chimes hardly whisper
interrupting predawn dreams
like a first passionate kiss
bluebird angels sighing within
wishing to imitate
branches blossoming
the first sign of spring

waning crescent moon calls you
from your slumber
mars and saturn subconsciously
tugging at your comforter
like impatient felines
needing to usher in
all that is welcoming



march two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

from the book of numerology


there is truth in numbers
and there is money too
the two go hand in hand
like youtube and click ads

so these cats we knew
decided to get off the grid
cash in their chips
bought one-way ticket to cape town
determined to find truth from
some mojo guru goddess

of course once there
they were told to draw a number
forced to blend in line with
other carbon dated records
all competing to uncover exact
combination to make it out alive





january two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

there goes another sad song


I don’t mind the old songs
but I want something fresh
no matter what its age

I’m flipping through forty-fives
searching for diamond or two
cute couple behind me
whispering comments about
mad magazine covers

without question new beautiful
sorrowful songs reside around here
refreshing like sparkling wine
the kind that turns your thoughts
into nothingness by way of
quiet reverberations

fast forward back home
small brown paper bag sits atop
kitchen counter
community cats returning home
chatting amongst themselves
what must be inside





december two thousand seventeen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

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