jdubqca

poetry by j matthew waters

Archive for the tag “loneliness”

first thing in the morning


come rain or come shine
he counts the steps from bedroom
to kitchen
first peeking inside the icebox
then checking the cupboard

sometimes he’s dressed and
other times not
but usually it’s before dawn
as he meanders about
like a blindman
like a sleepwalker
like a creek lost in the woods

he has no sense of hunger
but his hearing is impeccable
and always he yearns to listen
to anything unfamiliar
but sadly settles for a cup of tea
preferably black or green or red

when the whistles blows
he knows the pain will soon subside
and from there it matters not
whether rain or sunshine arrives



september two thousand seventeen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

a streetcar with no name


the sun won’t rise for a couple
hours more
but already the roads
are snow-covered above
and icy below

in most neighborhoods
the morning paper never arrives
and to anyone
daring to venture outside
experiences soft wood burning
and blackbirds squawking

up and down the streets
automobiles idle in driveways
or along curbsides
warming up to new ideas

(earlier a deadly accident
occurs on a lonely street corner)

you cannot hear it
nor can you sense it
you cannot even fathom it
until it slowly disseminates into the air
over a relatively short period of time



december two thousand sixteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

minimalistic thoughts of yesteryear


one by one they left this place
a metaphorical mess
and I was left all alone
to my many devices
certain I could figure out a way
to clean things up

the morning light arrives
hours after I first stirred
shuffling my feet
to the rhythm of a fancy beat
repeating a little ditty
I recall singing in my dream

windows are everywhere
and in the dark I find each one
lifting the storms
and bringing in fresh air
whether it be cool or warm
or whispering silence

sitting at the kitchen counter
I am taken to places
I’ve not yet seen
a ripened orange in my hand
magically unpeeling itself
before my very own eyes


may two thousand sixteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

introspection


fields of wildflowers stretched
as far as the eye could see
and I stood there
unmoved
void of emotion
believing its beauty
could never belong to me

cloudless skies of blue stretched
as far as the eye could see
and I stood there
motionless
hopelessly lost
looking for a sign
I was not alone in this world

daylight turned to dark
and I surrendered to the earth
fell asleep in the open
curled into a ball
like a seed
praying for the rain
to bring me back to life


april two thousand sixteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

birdsong in my mind


sorrowful soul mate
casting nets
from a sparse pine
comes up empty time and again

determined to move on
one tree at a time
the song forever weaves
through solitary twilight


april two thousand sixteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

pulling weeds in a maddening world


on his hands and knees he pulls weeds
the kind that creep into spaces
lacking light and common sense
often seen but seldom understood
neither envious nor empathetic of beauty
and constantly forced
to start a new life in the most
undesirable places

to think that it’s come to this
he mutters to himself
furiously yanking the stalks but not the roots
tossing them behind his back
knowing full well they’ll resurrect
themselves in a matter of days
a reminder of how maddening
his loneliness has become



june two thousand fifteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

the start of a brand new day


there’s something missing he said
opening the refrigerator
pulling out a mcintosh and
gutting it with the round steel slicer

deliberately he ate slice after slice in
complete silence
focusing on the uneasy feeling
deep inside his core

outside on the front patio he heard
the daily paper kicking the door

out back a stray cat cried in the cold
garnering the attention of camouflaged chickadees
sitting quietly from within the pines

a gust of wind brought forth new life
from the many wind chimes

beneath his feet he feels the morning train
beginning to roll from a few miles away
a good forty minutes late he tells himself

as the first whistle blows
the sun breaks free from the clouds


january two thousand fifteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

the sound of winter


room by room he drifted
attending to the windows
first shutting the storm
then locking the
lower sash with the upper

he moved mechanically
like an old timepiece
powered by the sun
the swift hand moving
hesitatingly from lack of light
his thoughts fleeting
like the gray winds outside

leaning on the last window
he felt oddly safe
but desperately alone
the sound of winter
forever secured inside



november two thousand fourteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Streets of Saint Petersburg


Lost inside Saint Petersburg
I travel by foot toward the river
church bells ringing silently
deadened by the dank air
creeping down my neck

I swear I see your pretty face
among the many gathered
‘round Palace Square
faces reddened by the wind
or wrapped in woolen scarves

Just as metallic music erupts
below the darkening clouds
young souls scream to life
and storm center stage
like a swarm of angry wasps

Lost inside Saint Petersburg
I blow on my hands and
stuff them inside my jacket
my feet taking me closer
to the river and back to the
University where I belong


october two thousand fourteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

porcelain doll


born into a colorful world
you look to the sky for answers
blinking your wanton eyes and
hiding your smile below
wide brimmed hat

anxious to live for tomorrow
you rarely sleep at night
dreaming of the day your
prince charming finally
finds you outside the box

winter arrives on cue
changing you into that girl
nobody really knew
your radiant summer skin
fading in the evening light

years turn into forever
your lost thoughts seeking
a new kind of loneliness
your mind aging
gracefully like porcelain



july two thousand fourteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

lonesome is the night


out of the blue melancholy
wrapped her arms around me
and held me close
whispering sad songs
and wiping away the tears
that formed from the
corners of my mind

she slowly swayed me
encouraging me to hush
painted pictures of the
moon and stars with her
deceiving voice
expressing how precious
and lonesome is the night


december two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

waiting in the wings


there is nothing sad in my song
it’s just that the purposefulness of it
is long gone

(I have since retired to another room)

alone I sit and bang on keys
meant to be played by a
musician high on weed
and improvising

we first discovered how the
establishment came to be
and then we destroyed them
brought them back to life with poetry
only the wretched understood

the professor did not show
up for work today so we taught
ourselves by sipping on danish wine
and reenacting a little hamlet

when the day is done don’t worry
about turning out the light
there’ll be another wave
of stark raving mad lunatics
to entertain your dying days



october two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

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