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
he stirred his mind
with cunning plots
and wicked thoughts
his energies focused
on lining his pockets
with ill-gotten gains
his conniving ways
always in motion
even as he slept
into the evening
dreaming in detail
what the night will bring
december two thousand twelve
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
i sit in the garden of good
and evil
and wonder if i’ve witnessed
enough
the quiet and beauty
of the garden
stands in dark contrast
to the cruel corners
of a violent
planet
i sometimes wonder
how the sunrise
will hit the acropolis
a thousand years from now
wonder in what way
i’ll be able to archive it
and recall it
again and again
(i’ve witnessed the birth
and near drowning death
of a child
only to be brought back to life
by a breath
i never knew existed)
as i sit in the garden
i understand there is more
to accomplish
on the other side of the hill
understand there will always be more
on the other side
where the fish jump
and the mountains climb
where promises sometimes
fall short
and recklessness
is always welcome
just like sound is neither
past nor present
there is no more tomorrow
there is only the garden
december two thousand twelve
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
I hadn’t been afraid for so long
that when the inevitable came
knocking at my door
I checked my pulse
and let the shadow in
an eerie thought cooled my palms
and sharpened my eyes
leading me to believe
I was on the verge
of losing my sanity
I issued a self-restraint citation
against my worse judgement
barricading myself
in the confessional
waiting for a priest
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
she hadn’t seen the light
of day in a week and the
only voice she ever heard
made her physically ill
the man inside her head
said she had better live
so she obeyed
and prayed
for real-time changes
negotiated agreements
led to predetermined exchanges
between skin
and gold
december two thousand twelve
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
the turtle faced
a daunting challenge
but figured if a one-trick pony
could beat a donkey
then offing the rabbit
with a colt forty-five
should be as easy
as getting
a gun permit
december two thousand twelve
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
after the lights went out
and the snow plows were grounded
the people took their arms
and left for the country
to find fuel for the fire
a decade later and a
generation forsaken
all the little girls turned into mothers
sooner than anyone
could ever have imagined
december two thousand twelve
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
i imagined
what it would be like
to be alone eternally
without a soul
in the world
to share life’s
finest moments
as my thought
began to dwindle
into nothingness
she kissed me
atop my forehead
and whispered sweetly
the thrill is gone
december two thousand twelve
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
The candles burned to mask the smoke
lingering in the air. He was certain
he’d been in this room before,
though it reeked of unfamiliarity.
He continued on through interconnected taverns
winding upward toward the sky.
Each passing story flashed old photographs
into his mind, only to dissolve and then
reproject themselves as stars in the sky.
Unclear how high the stories went
on and on he scurried. Up above, he swore,
lay reality; down below was just a past
that begged a sniff of upward mobility.
originally written
march two thousand seven
rewrite and recording
december two thousand twelve
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
i make meatloaf the way
my mother used to make it
except i do mine without the recipe
and sometimes i deviate
from the betty crocker original
it’s the best recipe on the
planet and i’m surprised
it doesn’t have the market cornered
or that you don’t hear about it
on the street or online
every time i make meatloaf
i declare it’s the best one
i’ve ever done – convinced i could
easily feed four thousand
with just two loaves
december two thousand twelve
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
my gut tells me there’s
something missing – a pain
that won’t go away
i make-believe
there’s food in the cupboard
and scurry to get out
the paper plates and plastic forks
while enjoying the meal
i pretend it is my final one
and pray this hunger
will finally pass
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
Wherever the king
may range and roam
he forever remains
at the center
of the universe
Accepting of his role
with relentless pride
he’s fully aware
of his position
in the food chain
Strolling the perimeter
of their sacred land
he revels at the sight
of his pretty women
fixing his next meal
november two thousand twelve
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
jdubqca 