poetry by j matthew waters

Archive for the tag “color”

rethinking a black & white world

I’ve paper but haven’t
any pen or pencil
anything reasonably
reliable to transfer
my scattered ideas
into chicken scratch

I’ve been feeding
my inconsistent thoughts
with edible charcoals and inks
yet nothing seems
to be sticking against
this stark white wall

restless and rummaging
for snacks inside the pantry
I accidentally uncover
finger paints of all colors
cleverly concealed
inside plastic eggshells

march two thousand nineteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

lemon alabaster

“I’m sorry I can’t come
to the phone right now
I’m working on my imagination”

What kind of message is that
I ask her
perturbed about not getting
a return call three days now

she’s doing her nails on the
propped-up la-z-boy
eyes looking down
muted x-files rerunning on the wall

it’s not a message
it’s a greeting
she says
still looking down
working her file like some
violin virtuoso

she’s a bitch
that’s all I got say
my eyes darting about
searching for the remote

I’ve dreamed up a new color she says
do you want to know what it is

no I do not I reply
I just want her to call me back

march two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

there I told you so

I always thought there wasn’t
much diversity in wildflowers
whether growing out of the ground
or painted on walls

the longer I hang out here the more
I’m convinced it has nothing
to do with the questions

you cannot see the spectrum of colors
inside your own eyes
yet you can experience
everything behind the clouds

and when there are no clouds
(in the sky)
you can simply lean back
and quietly say there
I told you so

april two thousand seventeen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

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