my paper is yellow & my ink blue
the end product softly translucent
representing an open mind
open to all considerations
& consequences
the instrument in my hand trembles
tracing back memories
hundreds of thousands of hours
bluebells blooming madly
back in nineteen eighty-four
january two thousand twenty-one
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
oh darling
did you see the rainbow in the
early morning sky
[opposite the rising sun]
I had painted it for you
with eyes closed
far beyond
the green rolling hills
after the rains
I went slip-sliding away
[down the green
rolling hills]
running and tumbling
and somersaulting
willfully into
your watercolor eyes
december two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserve
she’s an artist
a watercolorist to be exact
her brushes her most prized possessions
she hardly notices as I brush her hair
her mind and soul recreating sailboats
racing parallel on the mississippi
winds and currents playing havoc on canvas
fading sun filtering through cumulus clouds
I’m lost in her world
imitating master backstrokes
eventually drowning in complicated brilliance
march two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
it takes much longer than seven days
to create something as beautiful as you
but here I sit on the veranda
trying to figure it all out
there is no rushing perfection
there is only absorbing
taking in what light there is
and channeling into something else
mixing yellows and greens
and all sorts of shades of blue
the white of the moon
the white of a rabbit’s foot
of an eggshell
or a lost soul
certain brushes make better oceans
certain vessels travel magically through time
transmitting snapshots of sunrises
never before seen
and here on the veranda
light slowly crawls to the surface
waves softly slapping my face
july two thousand sixteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
the sails in this watercolor look
like albino shark fins
she said while stretching her
neck to one side
the whitecaps are amazing
she went on to say
they’re perfect equilaterals
one rolling into the next
below the prismatic horizon
she stared at the painting
for another minute
dabbing at her eyes before
reaching out for my hand
what’s the matter I asked her
I’m bored to death she said
we’ve got to get out of this place
january two thousand sixteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
jdubqca 