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Matthew J. Waters - 2


Dances with Leaves

I stood looking out the window
at a small pile of leaves
I had raked and forgotten about

Damn I thought
I can’t believe I left behind this pile of leaves

It was then as I had these thoughts the wind
came out of nowhere
hitting the pile of burnt colors
and sending them high into the air

Hey honey I yelled
you’ve got to come see this
the leaves are dancing

Crosswinds continued lifting the
leaves higher than eye level
twisting them into a stream of
irregular circular motion
fully fluid yet shapely
as if produced by a child
playing spirograph on a table

Hey honey I yelled
you’ve got to come see this

This time she leaned her head back
and turned her neck my way

What is it she asked – I’m reading

The leaves are dancing I said
you’ve got to come see this

First there was a pause as the
leaves continued to dance
and then there was closure
​

the violin and the piano  ☊

their sound supersedes the
clamor and the simmering pot
not quite boiling
not quite understood

the floors mean nothing
they’ve since been replaced
replaced but not restored
never to be the same

appearing out of nowhere
like a silver moon in disguise
the music filters through
making my world come to life

the violin and the piano
still echo in these walls
comforting my sorrow
and giving me repose
​

flash powder  ☊

​what have I contributed
to the cause
keeping the music alive and
guarding elephants
from poachers

I’ve given up aerosol sprays
and gasoline
marlboro lights
store-bought soup
and religion

how much more do I have to give

that constant humming in my ear
is that just a warning from
my guardian angel
or simply a reminder
how those widely admired
can easily be swept away
like a night owl’s prey
silently screaming

absolution doesn’t exist
in the blink of an eye
and even if it did
no act of contrition could
prevent anyone from
seeing the light
​

lonesome is the night

out of the blue melancholy
wrapped her arms around me
and held me close
whispering sad songs
and wiping away the tears
that formed from the
corners of my mind

she slowly swayed me
encouraging me to hush
painted pictures of the
moon and stars with her
deceiving voice
expressing how precious
and lonesome is the night

Picture


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Matthew J. Waters profile

as if I had been there  ☊

a thin vapor trail
slipped in through the front door
but nobody was home

if I had been there
I would have noticed something
was quite different
but I was gone on a
journey of a lifetime

the place had not changed
all these years
everything perfectly in place
as if nobody had really
lived there

while my mind wandered
away from worldly ideals
seeking out transcendental gurus
residing on new moons
my spirit remained behind
waiting patiently
to be seen 
​

the alpha wizard  ☊

was it the wire or the tree
or wayward balloons
bursting the ceiling
allowing meteoric pulses to
enter the atmosphere
uninterrupted

was it the whiskey
or the rye
that sparked something
out of nothing
like lightning in the sky

throwback man
walks around half-naked
carrying torch by daylight
poking sticks at stars by night

extending arms high above his head
he spreads his fingers wide
electrically connecting dots
whether seen or unseen
from the nondescript beginning
to an imaginary end
​

when the lion awakens from within

so much dark emotion lives
deep within us
locked away from centuries past
idling by and unafraid
able to unleash itself
most unexpectedly

almost anything can spark
its wickedness
awakening from dormancy
and revealing bloody secrets
only unknown ancestors
ever knew subsisted

like a lion suddenly enraged
instinctively
you rush from out of the bushes
rip apart the innocent lamb
quietly devouring

any remnant of yourself
​

charting the free verse sky  ​☊

those stars we used to wish upon
the ones first appearing in the twilight
or the ones falling from the
sky while sitting on the front porch step
where have they gone
now when you need them the most

sometimes I think of a certain star
that shined so bright it had no choice
but to crash and burn in some
remote forest you’ve never heard

those are the kinds of stars I miss the most

this universe is nothing but a free verse
poem with a little sizzle and endless syllables
spherically rotating around your ever
expanding mind
your inner child
charting the course of events
of every single moving object
​

                 ♢
​

Go to page 1 of Matthew J. Waters' poetry

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