I suppose I could always join
the monastery
the one at the top of a lesser god’s hill
where a silent bell
rings from inside a silver spire
hidden by a dark cloud
manufactured by imaginations
seeking solace & light
november two thousand twenty-four
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
the walls are paper thin here
I swear you can hear anything
the walls are paper thin indeed
I can hear anything spoken
and better yet what’s not said
when the house is empty baby
and I’m the only who’s here
when the house is empty my love
I can hear you loud & clear
even those thoughts deep within
they come to me loud & clear
the past remains present
inside the walls of eternity
the past but a symbol of youth
inside these walls of eternity
the doorbell ringing yesterday
pretending to be a presence
followed by a knocking on the door
september two thousand twenty-four
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
besides reading
I’ve been listening of late
talking less & when I do
doing so more quietly
after my heart stopped racing
I started thinking
despite all the many things
I must have done wrong
there is an equal amount
just the opposite
when everything else is gone
and all that’s left is you
try to remember all the colors
you brought into this world
—and all the ones
you’ll be taking with you
september two thousand twenty-three
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
sitting in the dark
watching cars pass by
snow quietly falling
not a star in sight
everything’s unplugged
sound of winter settles in
pulsating candlelight
casting shadows on walls
touching rags and bones
other world sleeps upstairs
while down below you
redraw black & white dreams
subtracting out the bad
adding new color
until every ornament
collected throughout the years
is perfectly placed
on your imaginary tree
december two thousand seventeen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
jdubqca 