jdubqca

poetry by j matthew waters

Archive for the tag “moon”

back inside the cradle


research says we’ve always
been part of the action
where or when
less important than the how

different channels
bring about varied accounts
most interwoven
like a patchwork quilt

galaxies & lost worlds
trapped inside blackholes
variable light
trickling through
wherever stretched or worn

in a corner
draped across an old wooden easel
its appearance everchanging
—duration & shadow
playing tricks of the mind
recalling a certain satellite
still larger than life





july two thousand twenty-three
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

depending upon the moon


lost in the chase
that damn rat race
or whatever it is you want
to call it
going about things
wearing a dumb smirk
or a wry smile
not giving a damn about
how big is the ocean

you always believed
it’s best to live & die
near water
a little smarter
millimeters along the way
separating the noise
from the substance
often disguised as killer waves
or slow-motion currents





june two thousand twenty-three
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

lost in the low tide


I’ve lost a step
but not a beat
the morning sun
reminds me so

where I’ve been
means less & less
than where I’ll be
when the new moon
rises in the east

believe you me
I believe in you
& when there’s
no more trace
it simply means
I’ve set out for sea





june two thousand twenty-three
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

moon after midnight


what does it mean
when the moon is dressed in red
is she in pain or sorrow
or a reason for celebration

do you remember
when she once ran away
a boy & his dog giving chase
— how she disguised her visage
void of any color
as if hiding from herself

stars like wallflowers
wander without much thought
the lady in the mirror
appearing now & then
revealing just enough skin
enticing curiosity





june two thousand twenty-three
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

moonless night


I’m uncomfortable in my bed
tossing & turning
as if in a grave
roots & stones & dirt taking hold
preventing me
from rising to the surface
from sleepwalking
to the north window
slinging it wide open
from floating across the room
like dracula
flinging open
the south window as well
a cool breezeway
quickly ensuing
allowing me to settle back in position
and dream peacefully
with an all night rain






may two thousand twenty-three
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

think twice


dusk arrives unannounced
followed by cat calls & bird songs
filtering in thru the cracked window

had I not destroyed myself
just before the dawn
did not the moon inform me
you’re finished once & for all

my vision blurred & my voice raspy
the blood in my veins
still flowing freely
I find myself back to life
back to my somewhat former self

at the window I peer past the shade
— there appears the moon
nothing like I remembered
deaf & dumb & barely visible
painted the dullest gray

talk now I say
tell me about this immortality
you had promised
made possible you said
by the hangman’s noose
the very one inside this room
at the foot of the bed





march two thousand twenty-three
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

the recovery room


the trap door isn’t in the den
it’s in the dining room
an oriental rug
& four leaf oaken table
layered over it

on the table are tapers
a dozen in three candelabra
lit once a month [or so]
in honor of the new moon

inside the invisible space
resides a great spirit
—if you’re tempted
one time too many
you may never be seen again
[just go ask alice]

seated at the dining table
is a good place to be
as long as you have patience
and an appetite
—but if your sobriety
is in conflict with your inner self
it’s highly recommended
to eat in the kitchen





march two thousand twenty-three
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

smooth


the girl in the barrio
listened to the radio
every night
keeping the volume
as low as possible
so as not awaken
the others
the music soft
and soothing
as smooth as her skin
glowing from
the shine of the moon
her emotions
ruled by a heart
destined to understand
life outside these walls





february two thousand twenty-three
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

bottles of oxygen in the wine cellar


they come to the door
and ring the bell
they are the uninvited ones

I sit in the corner chair
off-white insulated curtains drawn
the bulb of the table lamp
barely buzzing

the brightless ones move on
but I suspect
they’ll return again
more capable of interaction
the next time around

turning off the light
I nod off in near silence
a dimly lit moon rising
whispering something sweet
into my ear
promising to awaken me
as always





january two thousand twenty-three
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

new moon


if we’re lucky
we’ll see the moon
rise along with the sun
any day now
dismissing any worries
it was blown
to pieces
by a barrage
of nuclear warheads





january two thousand twenty-three
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

lone wolf


it was a day to be creative
in a regimental kind of way
voluntary confinement
practicing silence in the mirror
solidarity to the self

it’s a craft needing feeding
desirous without comprehending
setting out for the night
following the scent of the wind
and a filtering moonlight





december two thousand twenty-two
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

this is all I know


this is all I know
concealed in a poem
like an eternal idea
or a waxing moon
forever drifting further
from mother earth

the eternal idea
residing in a poem
the seas calm
on a moonless night
thoughts drifting
past the firelight

seas remain calm
catamarans adrift
the idea of a poem
turned into dust
chasing a comet’s tail
on a moonless night





october two thousand twenty-two
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

barking at the bay window


it was near midnight
the dog was barking
waking me mid-dream
just as I was I ready
to corner the dormouse

I stretched & yawned
slowly rising to my feet
stretching my legs
& lifting my back upward
toward the ceiling

by this time the dog
had retreated back to her bed
but eventually curiosity
& the red full moon
got the better of me





august two thousand twenty-two
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

moon dance


sometimes you step
backwards to see if it
can still be done
& then I say to you
there you go again
turning back time

how else are we
able to explain
the forces felt
the ones undefined
only occasionally
tugging at our sides





july two thousand twenty-two
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

artificial island


it is clear to me
the answers are embroiled
between the moon & ocean
impossible waves bearing witness
to what we believe to be true

how many notes
will you stuff inside bottles
castaways with nothing to lose
messages reworked as questions
a collection of uncontrolled vessels
of various size & composition





july two thousand twenty-two
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

entering the dark moon phase


sometimes it’s about
not even trying
losing yourself like a leaf
loses its birthplace
only to discover
that the letting go
couldn’t have been
any easier

how easy is it for you
to fall to the ground
defenseless
at the mercy of the winds
of fire & rain
the everlasting moon
your only friend
giving & taking light

lightning crashes
dramatic randomness
will you be there
right on the spot
a specific place in time
is it a coincidence
or queer luck of the draw
determined at birth





april two thousand twenty-two
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Post Navigation