love is like an open prairie
self-sufficient and showcasing
every true color this world has to offer
weaving blankets of warmth on
cool autumn evenings
and providing shade to weary souls
love is like the birds of the prairie
welcoming each day with
songs of praise
awakening the flowers whose petals
unfold and open their hearts
without a single solitary condition
february two thousand fourteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
we searched
under rock and earth
and alongside the water’s edge
where the dying winds
welcomed the night
without a trace
you escaped the city
headed for a restless countryside
offering perspective
to tired old bones
in the woods
echoes follow every
footfall and heartbeat and thought
reshaping consciousness
from the very start
signals flare
from rugged elevations
seemingly shooting down stars
much too young to die
let alone live
early morning currents
meander your voice
throughout the valley’s curvatures
barely audible above
forgotten shadows
january two thousand fourteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
I crossed the bridge on the coldest
day of the year just as the noon
whistle blew
on the frozen river below
hundreds of geese huddled together
on the sunlit ice
once inside the downtown deli
I warmed to a cup of soup
and toasted sandwich
driving back across the bridge
the geese had vanished
into the bitter winter air
january two thousand fourteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
amid dark winter nights
I lay out glorious plans
to conquer the seed
the wind and the rain
the whiteness of the world
inspires me to envision
perfect days where irises
bloom under moonlight
sacred revolutions seem
as remote as paradise
testing my patience
from far away places
january two thousand fourteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
inside the ant farm fat-bottomed
shoppers coast on motorized carts
clogging the produce section and
regurgitating freshly stocked veggies
an accident in bakery sends signals
to emergency crews who remove
themselves from feeding the powerless
to harvesting the tiniest of crumbs
cleanup on aisle nine sends her majesty
screaming to her many abigails who
busily stitch her tattered wings
in hopes of swarming another day
december two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
butterflies are nothing but
welcomed distractions in a
hurry-up-world
long after the youth of careless
rebellion becomes
netted in routine
december two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
wounded ant repairs himself
sends himself back into the fray
where he nary has time for loose chit-chat
nor counterproductive influences
there is no home sweet home
just a constant moving forward
last twenty-four hours exposing a dying light
in an ever-changing horizon
punching holes through earth
and wood often lead to nowhere
but when consumed by a billion megabytes
may uncover lasting paradise
december two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
we took the long road
to the top of the island
believing by the time we got back
to the ocean
your father would be gone
pausing along the way
we listened to the distant waves
while lying on our backs
nibbling on treats and
pretending the clouds
flew like pink elephants
the rhythm of the water
slowly put us to sleep
our dreams commingling
as your father’s footfalls
echoed ever closer
december two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
rhythm walked down the
brick road of jakarta
offering everyone
yellow roses
and exotic wishes
seven thousand islands
usher in oceans
pretending attention
is the last thing
on her beautiful mind
november two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
I stood looking out the window
at a small pile of leaves
I had raked and forgotten about
Damn I thought
I can’t believe I left behind this pile of leaves
It was then as I had these thoughts the wind
came out of nowhere
hitting the pile of burnt colors
and sending them high into the air
Hey honey I yelled
you’ve got to come see this
the leaves are dancing
Crosswinds continued lifting the
leaves higher than eye level
twisting them into a stream of
irregular circular motion
fully fluid yet shapely
as if produced by a child
playing spirograph on a table
Hey honey I yelled
you’ve got to come see this
This time she leaned her head back
and turned her neck my way
What is it she asked – I’m reading
The leaves are dancing I said
you’ve got to come see this
First there was a pause as the
leaves continued to dance
and then there was closure
october two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
she spoke with forked tongue
but I understood
every word she said
she said I had been dead
for three days
before resurrecting
my consciousness
back wandering the earth
I was sent searching
for a flower yet to be born
strolling beside a copse
instinctively I stopped
and squatted and became
mesmerizingly lost
as the glass petals
slowly unfolded into
another world
october two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
ten thousand whispers
brought down the clouds
turned the river into rain
and dust into life
whispers gently faded
subsisted ‘neath the waves
nearly turned to nothingness
by preying on decay
circles of whispers
sometimes escape the ark
curious metamorphoses
sailing further and further away
september two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
the stream imagines
whatever lies inside the mind
projects audial nuances
favorable to the heart and soul
the stream has babbled on
since before babylonia was born
before the seeds of creation
transfigured into the living garden
the stream provides sustenance
and everlasting grace
offering those who worship her
glimpses of alpha and omega
august two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
born into the dark ages
the children loved to listen
to the chronicles of the sun
rising above the hills and
making everything on earth
supernaturally magical
august two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
we walked hand
in hand
throughout the centuries
seeking treasures
along the shoreline
wondering what lies
beyond the faintest star
august two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
ants are everywhere
and most of them are downright
industrious
then there’s the spiders
and snakes and whatever nature
wants to sally forth populating this place
ground squirrels moved in
last week
little sons a bitches
neighbor says he’s got a
groundhog
living up there
behind them bushes
wolves and foxes make for
scary noises
beyond the border trees at night
or maybe it’s just two cats without gloves
settling an old match
or better yet
an adolescent sasquatch
out looking for a snack
beneath all the commotion
subhumans thrive at
twenty-four seven bazaars
peddling flashlights and canteens
and cuban cigars
dark chocolate squares
and high-powered rifles
july two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
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