when you love something
so deeply
that you cannot live without
and the primitive nature inside you
supersedes the laws
of logistics and morality
take notice
for your best laid plans
in conquering your desires
may unwittingly leave you choiceless
and as baseless as the next man
july two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
the industrious child spent
his morning picking up the fallen fruit
of the maple tree
placing them one or two or three at a time
into a plastic orange pail
as his mother sat on the glider
on the front porch
rocking the little one to sleep
comfortably in her arms
both bundled within a shawl
a cool breeze made the boy’s cheeks
as pink as the tulips that bloomed
nearly a month ago
and when the pail became filled
to his satisfaction he disappeared
into the house
only to reappear in a second story window
where he proceeded to pretend
a fleet of military choppers
converged behind enemy lines
june two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
the moment you start looking back
and analyzing every misstep
chances are you are not where
you want to be
and all the hopeless wishing in the world
will leave you even more wretched
consider the beauty of the butterfly
and ask yourself if your life isn’t worth
just as much
and maybe then you will understand
moving forward is the only option
with or without a migration map
june two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
your garden is all grown up
said the daughter
to the old man as they
sat in front of the fire pit
listening to the wood talk
she remembered way back when
there were stepping stones
throughout the garden
and she would jump from one stone
to the next like you would
playing hopscotch
the stones were still there
camouflaged beneath the jungle
barely noticeable amongst the greenery
blossoming a spectrum of colors
rainbows inspired to imitate
do you remember
when we put in the stepping stones
asked the old man
yes I do
answered the daughter
I was just thinking about that
june two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
I grow bleeding hearts
in my garden
where there is no sun
they thrive in the shadows
where tears
are not seen but heard
june two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
this old blue jewel continuously
reinvents herself
through orderly chaos
using beautifully destructive forces
to tear herself down and rise again
in unimaginable creativity
she is her own god forever conjoined
with the serene sky
the strands of creation
emitting sparks from her fingertips
fashioning transcendental elements
into a supernatural world
june two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
on the most sorrowful day floral arrangements
accompany the winding road
as the birds of the field sing their joyful songs
nearby wildflowers weep and sway
newly clipped roses wrapped in paper produce
smiles once believed long gone
wherever a child is knee-deep in raw color
never let time pass away
april two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
the circle invitation
echoes from miles around
from a solitary flyer
high above the flooded
creek near oxfordshire
days of endless rain create
casualties on the ground
ripe for the taking
by just about anything
remotely intelligent
the size of the circle
grows wing by black wing
gaining strength and sailing
like a school of fish
in the overcast sky
once reconnaissance
confirms an opening
the dark circle transforms
into a ruthless carnivore
spiraling toward the earth
april two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
blank card unfolds
with pencil in hand
as I sit in silence
waiting for the words
instead I draw
a little lost boy
in pursuit of his soul
in the cherished woods
a network of leaves forbids
the sun from shining
upon the moss-covered floor
as the sounds of the silent march
carry on
the young man calls
into the branches
certain someone above
understands his prayer
april two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
I don’t necessarily like
the way I was raised
just like I’m not expressly thrilled
with the way I raised my own
I don’t mind all of the free
time I have these days
just like I’ve come to accept
how astrological forces
forever rule the world
I’ve considered going back
to tinker with a few things
but the new moon
in the twelfth house
keeps me grounded here
april two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
it snowed all night
and in the morning I went to look
for my boots
so I could shovel the drive
what the hell is it doing
snowing in springtime
I complained to the woman
sitting on the couch with pencil
in hand
she shrugged her shoulders
and put her face
back in the sudoku
you know you’re supposed
to do those things in pen
just like the crossword puzzle
I said
she lifted her eyes
and stretched her arm straight at me
the pencil an extension
of her middle finger
you know she said
if you’re looking for your boots
I sold them on amazon
last month
now get the hell out of my house
march two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
the little ones gathered ‘round
ratcheting their bottoms
against the carpet as if trying to
permanently stay in place
you see
the old man began
bobbing his head
in the old days
you could drive out to the country
with your sweetheart by your side
leaving a trail of dust behind you
weaving your way through rolling hills
where rows of corn stretch toward the sun
and gigantic cows feed on fields
that forever stay green
once you reach the sign
with the painted horse
you abandon the car
and walk hand in hand down a narrow lane
leading you to an antiquated world
where you first learn to saddle your new best friend
and ride off into the sunset
with courage and grace
march two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
we ventured out into the wilderness
and manipulated pieces of steel
with nuts and bolts
using handmade tools and human ingenuity
assembling giant creatures
ten stories tall
with ravenous appetites
plunging them headlong
deep into the earth
where they feed on subterranean elements
and spew their wasteful byproducts
out into the troposphere
for clouds to absorb
and recycle as violent weather
bombing war-torn cities
february two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
the man in the white coat
hands me a square sheet of paper
encouraging me to tell him
what i think i see
on the white sheet of paper
a black and white monarch butterfly
stretches out her wings in perfect symmetry
her lips tasting the nectar of oswego tea
growing near a garden pond
filled with koi and water lilies
giving back the square sheet of paper
i lower my eyes and
tell the brain doctor
i see some chump sitting on the street corner
hand held out and repeating something silly
like penny for your thoughts
february two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
beauty arises from the dirt
born of age-old comets
and earthly delights
photosynthetic arms
feeding on the sun
and supporting a smile
colorful and wide
beneath the surface
a neural network
grows in an opposing way
stretching and penetrating
though the darkness
weaving absolute lifelines
for the blind to grasp
february two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
for centuries the sloping hill
produced a bouquet of artistry
sewn into the grass
and handpicked by flower children
an annual blizzard blanketed
the hill and invited participants
to hasten up and down
using any means possible
as the city slowly crawled outward
leaving concrete in its wake
the sloping hill cried
shaking and moaning and hurting
the forward motion gradually
violated the internal integrity
of her existence
until one day without warning
she simply
sailed away
january two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
jdubqca 