I entered the world
like a flower blooming
an experience blocked
from a memory dying
to understand
how the subliminal past
led me to this time
where I beget the pistil
and the petal
november two thousand twelve
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
what heart is broken
seeks out to find
a remedy certain
to forget past times
how sad the memory
painful to the heart
broken yet breathing
forever on guard
time is of essence
nothing stands still
a heart once broken
desires to rebuild
october two thousand twelve
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
move past the apology
and to a world where
it’s okay to let loose
and move on
time has a way of untying
most stubborn knots
freeing the soul from
undue weight
nothing is ever forgotten
but simply evolves
into memories
still alive
september two thousand twelve
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
we talked for hours
after the football game
starting where we left off
thirty years ago
we sat in the very same
booth, where in the day
i wrote short stories
while putting down pints
sometimes we’d sit
at the bar and chain-smoke
sipping on coffee
in between classes
you haven’t changed a bit
she said, laughing;
a reminder how she loved
to tell white lies
once in the corner
on a cold rainy night
i wept like a baby
ruining my story
after hearing the news
you searched me out
held me in your arms
until the bar closed
you know, she said,
you’ll meet her again
and her beauty
will take you away
melancholy struck me
as she covered my wrist
with her hands,
closing her eyes
august two thousand twelve
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
flatfooted on the edge
of a supersized
new york city highrise
i calmly stand tall
like an olympian diver
slowly rising to her toes
before falling into twisted
recollections of fetal positions
and outstretched arms
a trail of shuttering thumbnails
racing faster and faster
until forever buried
below the water’s wake
august two thousand twelve
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
I found your mirror
when looking for something
in the walk-in closet,
the oval, black-framed one
with the ivory handle.
A lightning bolt crack
shot down from top
to bottom, carving my face
with a sharp knife
misplaced years ago.
june two thousand twelve
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
thirty years to the day
the old man buried a box
wrapped in plastic
on the border of his property
he recalled the idea
of hiding treasures
complemented his playfulness
agreed with his sensibilities
even though he knew
exactly where to go
he sat at the table
and unfolded the map
he had crafted at age fifty
life had been a blur until then
he remembered
and for the first time he swore
he had changed somehow
when he traced his finger
to the spot past the juniper trees
the items he would soon recover
flashed before him
as distant memories
slowly coming into focus
march, two thousand twelve
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
we had met it seems ages ago
at a time when no one knew
how to plant corn or make bread
back then days were upside down
and the moon was locked
in its place: a perfect excuse
to exaggerate without consequence
and pretend logic never existed
as time passed many faces rotated
around the clock
some memorable
some forgotten
some forever fixed in consciousness
without any particular reason
the alternative path rarely presented itself
until one night in the future
the moon beamed a smile
and there we stood face to face
august two thousand eleven
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
He entered the house where decades ago he slept in a crib
in one of four bedrooms. Once inside a curious sense of loss
breathed throughout the rooms void of knickknacks and heirlooms.
A flurry of past and present images projected onto the walls
as memories both vague and succinct darted here and there.
In the kitchen the refrigerator exhaled and ice hit the empty tray.
Bending on one knee he reached his arm and unplugged the unit,
a slight emission emanating a smell much like Marlboro Light.
january two thousand twelve
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
walking in i felt a presence
had just left
leaving behind a draft
coming from the return vent
a lone light shone
above the kitchen sink
highlighting the drip
that hadn’t been fixed for days
i thought i might find
a note on the counter
next to sunday’s newspaper
instead found a grocery list
along with a few coupons
the cat sauntered on the tile
and rubbed up against my ankle
sounding off in a bluesy way
somehow knowing
change was here to stay
december, two thousand eleven
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
Diving deep inside your mind
I found the place
You speak about so often
Where laughter sounds like
Pretty cries and memories
Are but a movie seen
So many times
In this place I heard
Hummingbirds feeding
On red Bee Balms
And in the distance
Silhouettes walked
Into the falling sun
Along the coastal sands
In the background music
Could be heard
And after a while
I pretended the voice
Belonged to you
august, two thousand eleven
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
Check out the YouTube video poem by clicking here
jdubqca 