jdubqca

poetry by j matthew waters

Archive for the tag “cats”

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

december eleven


bone broth & diced chicken breast
chopped carrots & celery
garlic & black pepper
(not to mention)
a pint of winter ale or two

stovetop gives way to dining room
dark with registers closed
filtered light from streetside windows
accentuating cat’s repeated calls

pots & pans & single soup bowl
washed & stacked in strainer
strings & drums streaming midair
(not to mention)
feline sated temporarily





december two thousand seventeen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

rapid eye movement


you just don’t go out and become a cat
you have to wait for it
and wait and wait and wait

sometimes he never comes around
but if you wait long enough chances are
he’ll be knocking on your door
pleading for more treats
begging you to swap lives

other times nothing ever happens
and when you open the door
there is nothing but darkness
and undomesticated screams

eventually all the sounds subside
and you are lost in the zone
pretending to be in a deep sleep
two eyes blinking atop starlit dome
casually seducing your next precious life





november two thousand seventeen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

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

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