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poetry by j matthew waters

Archive for the tag “lost in thought”

a private conversation


where do you go in that mind of yours
when you are nowhere to be found

what triggers do you keep in your pocket
that nobody knows about

those poems you used to write inside
virtual greasy spoons
they’re plastered now
nearly everywhere
giving inspiration to all things living

I swear I found you more than twice
walking the streets at midnight
blinders on either side

I begged you to take my hand
I swear I believed I could have saved you
but you heard nary a syllable
and reluctantly I turned away
listening to your very last words
resonating



september two thousand sixteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

against the wind


I pretend I don’t see you
and then look away
my eyes focused on my
forward movement
lest I slip off the shoulder
and crash into the water

pedals on concrete race
against sails on water
each attacking the wind
in our own special way
one eye in the rearview
and one at a finish line
that may
or may not be there




october two thousand fourteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

red light


camera at top of the world
forces my foot down
left facing the red light
idling first in line
outside the city’s edge

I wait with my own thoughts
neither angry nor sad
indifferent to my circumstance
my petty arguments
list of things unsaid

vague images fly by like
recollections on wheels
transporting me near and far
as if past and present
resided inside the red light

one blink of the eye
I’m rushing forward
to the next intangible destination
chased from behind by
lights of another color


march two thousand fourteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Nothing but a Vestigial Drawing


Thousands of miles from home, viewing gardens
I’ve been meaning to plant, I sit and sketch
with charcoal on textured paper a perfect,
utopian presence like that place in Genesis.

The hotel makes me honestly welcomed
from the “Sirs” to the stars to the telephone
in the commode. In the drawing I see myself
never leaving, ever. I am drawn to be within

The shades of grass and green, contemplating
the reasons I should ever leave the stone
and glass and fabric and hospitality
that has enveloped me in this lofty balcony.

Below the waters are warm. The bodies
are near and brown, living out temporary
yet simple days, their imperfections hidden
beneath the moonlight, their conversations distant,

Calming and inviting. It takes almost nothing
to remove myself from a world a million miles
away; takes a conscious effort to check out
and return with nothing but a vestigial drawing.



original version penned nineteen ninety-eight
rewritten and recorded july two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

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