poetry by j matthew waters

Archive for the tag “church”

cowboy country church

they whooped and hollered
every time the preacher said amen
their guns at their side
fully loaded
anxious to pull them
out of their holsters

whoa my wayward boys
the preacher bemoaned
thou shalt not keep thy fingers on
thy handles
and take hold the truth
within the good book instead

the cowboys coughed
and held their hands together
fingers twitching and praying
for the preacher
to give them good reason
not to raise the roof

march two thousand fifteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

sunday with nana

when I was a little girl she said
I sang in the children’s choir
and everybody loved us

we smiled and tried to imagine
how nana could ever have been
a little girl singing in church

like a magician she pulled psalms
out of her throat and lifted them
high into the glorious air

angels appeared playing flutes
and trumpets and approving the
perfection that was her voice

september two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

fat tuesday

it was a dreary afternoon
and the local parish priest
spent most of it in the box

i sat in a pew in the back
underneath the twelfth station
narrowing my bloodshot eyes
and focusing on the pain
in my hands and feet

i lost count the number of times
the confessional door
swung open and shut
and i imagined none of the sinners
could hold a candle to what troubled
my criminal mind

when the lights turned dim
i delivered my own penance
and ventured back home
under the bridge
in the punishing rain

march two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

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