i dreamed the new year
never arrived
and i was left on the shore
listening to the moon
kissing the sea
as i walked along
a restlessness stirred
within
reminding me
you are always near
january two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
peering out my window
clouds gather around
and darken
a once promising
bright day
blackbirds circle above
slowly descending
and squawking
instinctively finding
shelter
thunder murmurs and moans
and i close my eyes
suppressing
a distant memory
knocking
once the showers arrive
i gaze past the pane
your image
refreshing like the rain
falling
december two thousand twelve
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
i’m in love with the weather woman
but i’m afraid to let her know
i love how she tells me
when my sun will shine
and when the rain
will soak my thoughts
with impossible dreams
and when the wind
will blow my blues away
i’m in love with the weather woman
but i’m afraid if she knew
she would concoct a storm
and send me tumbling away
like some insignificant snowflake
december two thousand twelve
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
no sooner did he dream
of the shallow pond
it became real
outside his back door
he filled it with koi
lilies and bog plants
laboring with love
on hands and knees
as in the dream
he sprinkled the surface
with crushed meteorite
and butterfly wings
word soon spread
of the man with a gift
who gave visions
to strangers
in need of healing
december two thousand twelve
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
one hundred twenty times
a minute the baby’s heart
masters frequency
perfectly in sync with nature
and forever dependent
upon the course of time
please stay with me awhile
and watch me learn to love
the power of frequency
december two thousand twelve
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
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
she works with fierce loyalty
gathering meals from fields
carried on her hind legs and
fed to the developing brood
inside the critical chamber
she sprinkles water in the air
fluttering her wings to regulate
a perfect temperature
having neither time nor energy
to consider her own demise
she again leaves the hive
to ensure her queen’s legacy
november two thousand twelve
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
It doesn’t matter what day it is
and no one seems to care
which way the wind blows.
The only thing that seems to matter
is November will arrive without fanfare,
and now everything can get on with dying.
The day might be bright but it will be short;
city parks will be littered with leaves
that never completely dry.
Street walkers and their dogs
will be hard to recognize
once November has taken hold.
Towering trees become dancing skeletons
reaching out for a partner in the sky.
Peering through their branches
at just the right time,
Venus or the Moon or the Sun
can be spotted, pretending
to be ornaments dangling.
october two thousand twelve
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
i snuck into the world
through a backdoor
you carved into a rolling hill
where you worked the earth
with your creative hands
with perfection in mind
you made my eyes
the lightest shade of blue
and my skin varied
depending upon the light
your blood flowed within
nourishing my heart
and strengthening my mind
as i learned how the earth
recycles all living things
through time and patience
i came to understand
how the secrets of the clay
could beautify and nourish
a world starving for love
october two thousand twelve
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
the river ran dry
the year of the drought
collapsing the water table
atop its own legs
the wishing well closed
from lack of moisture
turning back all the day dreamers
hoping for change
september two thousand twelve
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
standing in the cloudless water
filled with rocks and sediment
and good vibrations
i cast my line
at a buffeted white boulder
shadowing a four foot pool
i pull and pause the jig with imprecise
rhythm along the creek bed
darting to the left
and to the right
jerking and sliding at my command
like a puppeteer playing the part
i bring home the jig and recast
at the same target as before
one eye focused
on the motion
the other at the rainbow trout
dormant and disinterested
over time my mind wanders
as the jig continues the routine
teasing its nemesis
with its tastiness
destined to vanish into the dark
and revive me from my trance
september two thousand twelve
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
little bird with little love
sits atop a lemon tree
hopes to turn into a dove
and live his life with ease
little bird with little friends
feeds upon a giving heart
longs to soar and pretend
his tweets are like a lark
little bird with little dreams
slowly heals his broken wing
soon to feast on tangerines
ripening across the spring
september two thousand twelve
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
gravitational forces
make the world go round
geometrically perfect
and mathematically sound
innocently conceived
of violent explosions
woe are the children
born into a whirlwind
of poverty and starvation
whose land neither spins
nor revolves with beauty
or compassion or truth
sad is the soldier
dying in a battlefield
dark clouds circling above
the beauty of the world
just a passing idea
taught in a classroom
man and his machines
compete for dominance
racing across the skies
and testing mother nature
with all the tangible wealth
this blue jewel can muster
august two thousand twelve
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
I had lost strength
after traveling so far
past the Nile Basin
and into the unknown
A sip from an ancient flower
tasted like perfection
numbing my legs
and sending my mind
into the night sky
where I was greeted
with weightlessness and peace
Throughout the night
I envisioned weaving
up the tallest tree
whose succulent branches
encouraged me to reach the top
Amble in my sleep
I pitched a tent
and watched the world fly by
I awakened to a dazzling
white sky with rainbow clouds
and golden snowcaps
my newfound perspective
exactly like the dream
For centuries I flew across
idle fields with virgin springs
until finally tiring a second time
august two thousand twelve
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
aggression builds from the stress
of surviving day by day
protecting what space is mine
and jousting with antennae helmeted
ne’er-do-wells who want to steal my girl
numb to the idea my days are numbered
i chirp lullabies out in the open field
promising hundreds of offspring
a seat by the fire before the first frost
july two thousand twelve
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
The insects inside you bore away
for decades, feasting on your tasty
wood as if it were a never ending meal.
Despite the damage you continued
to morph by extending your roots
and creating more rings,
rising above the majestic blue spruces,
your branches and prolific leaves
scrubbing the air around you.
While I always considered your species
a wild and ugly member of the copse,
I never imagined that on the inside
you were eaten alive by starving parasites
hell bent on sending you tumbling down.
june two thousand twelve
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
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