which way the breeze blows
depends on the mood
of the moon
influenced by waves
continuously at play
high winds do sweep
those blues skies away
turning dirt into dust
and hopes into dreams
inner thoughts recede
settle near the edge
of the sea
waiting on the tides
to rule on a lover’s fate
february two thousand nineteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
the bridge is out
but the river is frozen
all the horses
are well fed and rested
time has always
been of the essence
but patience
supersedes ambition
and trumps all other cards
coincidentally
supermoon rises
high above the valley
spotlighting a people
determined to return
back to the beginning
february two thousand nineteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
what brought me here is difficult
to explain
almost as if I was abducted
by a team of aliens
and set loose in the city center
something or someone
wiped clean my memory
and the clothes on my body
I was vaguely certain
did not belong to me
as I walk the streets
nothing is familiar
landmarks or architecture
the language or signage
urban animals roaming about
I stuff my hands in my pockets
pull out colorful script
and silver and gold pieces
fairly certain the sum of which
will give me a place to stay
for the night
over time I will come to find
there is inspiration in the streets
in everywhere I go
february two thousand nineteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
there is light coming through
the clearing of the trees
signaling a harbinger of some sort
worthy of pursuing
nearby river flows slowly
as local stream remains silent
life forces beneath the surface
struggling to be noticed
diving deeper into the woods
a peacefulness transpires
while high above the treeline
raptors survey the surroundings
stealthily tracking your every footfall
february two thousand nineteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
for some reason I’m waiting
waiting on sunday
for a pause in my thoughts
or walk through the park
waiting on someone
to give me the time of day
daylight no longer diminishing
the law of returns
slowly reverses course
inspiring generosity to the many
and giving hope to those
who need it most
I find myself kneeling
without any specific reason
giving thanks for tomorrow
and thinking of others
waiting for their next sunrise
whether apparent or not
february two thousand nineteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
there is a boat docked outside
my window on a cool
autumn night
brightly blue and appearing
out of nowhere
I see it there
rocking in place peacefully
brilliant moon high above
slightly waning
drifting in and out of
thin porous clouds
like a fair-weather friend
who could have ordered
such a vessel my way
and why do I stand at the
window motionless
hands on hips and
eyes mesmerized
seriously considering
my next move
february two thousand nineteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
turning nothing into something
without words or paint or music
but simply by willing it so
now that’s a feat worthy of the gods
how can I even try to do the same
in my own little space and time
redesigning recurring nightmares
or reworking age old fairy tales
this is not the first time I’ve talked
myself into believing in the past
one in which I was a lesser god
still learning how to reinvent
perhaps next time I will arise
from beneath the very earth herself
eventually abloom in full color
admired by the gods I wish to be
february two thousand nineteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
the air is heavy from constant
bombardment
rolling in every three or four days
like a recurring freight train
there’s plenty to do besides
worry and wait
and it matters not if you think
more of less about the next
certain lethal blast
on clear and silent nights
children gaze at the stars in
amazement
curiously wondering if they too
were made by man
february two thousand nineteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
we started out just as the sun
was giving it a rest
picking you up right on time
just as we had planned
we were cruising down
first avenue
and you were reading me
my horoscope
laughing in between chugs
of tall boy budweiser
tom petty was singing
in the background
something about rolling
another joint
and your eyes lit up
and I pressed on the gas
next thing I knew
we were chasing down
too many moons
right out of this well lit county
and into the next
february two thousand nineteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
soup is on the stovetop
italian vegetable
burner set between
medium low
and simmering
outside it’s snowing
inch after inch after inch
ever since early morning
still waiting for plow
to come rolling through
on the kitchen counter
handwritten letter
remains left unfolded
kept in place by
handgun paperweight
there’s a candle burning
on a nearby table
house cat scratching
at the back door
pleading to get away
footsteps can be heard
pacing quietly
throughout the place
stir crazy perhaps
or simply bored to death
february two thousand nineteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
it was a matter of time that your life
became mainly a flashback
like a character in a dickens novel
stretched thin on a cold march day
it was a matter of time recollecting
faded images of a former self
one plodding alongside trout stream
aided by spear tipped hiking stick
it was a matter time accepting
the thought of looking back
plunging the blade through the ice
shattering what was once indestructible
and exposing a brand new world
february two thousand nineteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
having grown tired of the same old
same old
I’ve gone searching for something new
some kind of different story
one that’s never been told
won’t you take my hand and go
searching with me
weaving through well worn
and not so much beaten paths
until at last
there is quiet resolution
to what’s transpired in the past
as if those imperfect moments
mattered not
as if those infrequent mistakes
have been laid to rest
february two thousand nineteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
I hadn’t thought things through
how to get from one place
to the next
it’s cold outside so I start
a fire inside
put a few ice cubes
in a rocks glass
reach for what’s left
of a fifth of jack
by this time I’m supposed to be
somewhere else
where the sun shines
both night and day
but somehow I got stuck here in iowa
where fair-weather men and women
easily come and easily go
I’ve got enough wood to last
another lifetime and a half
but oh how I love
how it talks to me when well lit
coaxing me to get up and dance
suggesting almost jokingly
this may be the last waltz
I put down the whiskey
and pour another
chuckling inwardly how it’s
going to take an act of god
to get anything melting around here
anytime soon
february two thousand nineteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
the faces are inspiring
whether real or appearing
in one-off dreams
faces in the crowd
popping up from one spot
to the next
by any means necessary
be it by foot or uber or bus
or train or aeroplane
exhibiting happiness or grief
pain or sorrow or glee
eyes and mouths wide open
or reluctantly shut
teeth clenched or relaxed
pale-faced or rosy-cheeked
hurried or stymied or grounded
it matters not
I swear I know
each and every one of them
much like how I know myself
february two thousand nineteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
I’ve a handgun hidden somewhere in the house
given to me for reasons undisclosed
one day I’ll be selling this place and buy
something with one less story and twice the yard
so I can start a brand new perennial garden
complete with beehive and lean-to greenhouse
as far as the former house is concerned
I’ll be selling ‘as is’
buried maps and long lost treasure included
february two thousand nineteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
it’s not even mid-february and already
the weeping on the streets
goes by unnoticed
it was just a couple of weeks ago
when the thaw was in full bloom
but that was short-lived
and now once again
the weeping on the streets has resurfaced
one hundred fold
what is to become of all this weeping
this unforgettable sorrowfulness
all too present yet seldom recognized
and what are we to do
standing unnoticed in the crowd
reaching out in furtive attempts
to make a difference
february two thousand nineteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
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