poetry by j matthew waters

Archive for the tag “garden”


I wasn’t scared
just slightly out of it
plus these bloody marys
don’t do anything for me
all day

Later in the evening
reaching for a needle
I sometimes wonder
if Mister Doctor
knows I’ve always
told him the truth

I hear the economy
in Mendocino County
is doing just fine
in my mind
I am already there
tending my own garden

april, two thousand twelve
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

In My Perennial Garden

There is an area in my backyard
Where grass used to grow,
Where farmers and native Americans
Both understood and disagreed
The meaning of owning property.

A grove of ageless, desperate trees
Grow wild beyond my backyard.
At the edge terraced walls and stone steps
complement the rolling hill.
Nobody would guess how a struggle
Once ensued there, one lasting three days.

Sometimes it rains so hard it blocks
The sunroom windows.
It is then you should venture out
And climb the steps to where the perennials
Grow so well, and see how the soil turns red.

march, two thousand twelve
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Into the Earth

In my mind I draw a square
in the very center of the garden

From there I dig into the earth
using the seasoned spade
usually reserved for plantings

The hole slowly turns into a cube
as three mounds resemble
Egyptian resting places

Further down the soil
becomes hard and cold
the clay malleable enough
to mold eternal companions

Satisfied the opening
is mathematically sound
I hold the spade at my side
sweat falling off my forehead
silently instructing the child
to bring forth her loved one
to the newly built altar

november two thousand eleven
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

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