jdubqca

poetry by j matthew waters

Archive for the tag “cats”

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

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

blackbirds biding their time


twilighty on an october evening
cats a’meowing and quiet moon
maybe making an appearance

I’ve seen you in this race before
maybe it was ten years ago
or maybe it was yesterday

these pockmarks on my cheeks
they don’t mean a thing
I regret you ever saw them

those moons we rarely see
orbiting worlds we barely know
absolutely belong here

and why you decided to go
long before your time
has everything to do with them



october 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

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