jdubqca

poetry by j matthew waters

there goes my hero


everyday daredevils take to the sky
challenging gravity and defying tragedy
seeking neither fortune nor fame
simply addicted to danger
and that unquenchable desire
to stare death in the face
every single bloody morning



may two thousand fifteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

under the sun


and when it rains we pray for brighter thoughts
and think of things that bind us to the earth
reminding us how we were born
from out of the darkness
like a flower or the butterfly

and when it rains we have time to contemplate
how the sun never hides
but rather is separated from us
from things out of our control
and it is then we learn to read each other’s minds
like the worker bee does her queen

and when the rain has passed our way
we shift our thoughts to wonderment and joy
like children skipping across wet grass
slipping and sliding and laughing under the sun



may two thousand fifteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

it rarely rains at the coliseum


it was getaway day at the coliseum
and dogs and soda and suds were
all half-price

there were lots of suits commingled
among many of the more casually enthusiastic fans
and even the public address announcer wondered
if any of the banks were open for business

some early inning runs quickly increased
concession sales

late comers rushed to the beer tent
before finding their seats

the rookie southpaw had a no-hitter
going into the fifth
and the place was all abuzz
like it hadn’t been in years

the afternoon matinée couldn’t have been
more perfect
until the roar of the crowd
called forth the god of rain delays
who just wouldn’t go away

and gradually (but with a fight)
the stadium lost all its life
as if nothing had ever happened



may two thousand fifteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Isadore


her lover took her by the hand
leading her to places
she’s never seen before
sounds from the inside inaudible
feet kicking as they scale uphill

there are higher places to climb
than here he tells her
pointing to a pale moon in the blue sky

day surrendered to the stars
her lover reminding her of that night
when nightingales sang lullabies
and wildflowers covered their eyes

there are higher places to climb
than here he tells her
embracing the beauty of their heartbeats

morning arrived and she boarded
the hot air balloon
sailed away weeping and waving
her lover cradling a silent child
promising her all the world
would one day know her name



may two thousand fifteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved


Author’s Note:
This poem is loosely based on the
song of the same name by Incubus
Click here for youtube video with lyrics

sailing the seven seas


one sea splits and divides
until there are seven
newfound creations diving deeper
and spawning new life
giving rise to the fisherman
who never touches land
conquering the art of riding the wave
charting the course of events
by way of the moon and stars
the whale and the albatross

eventually the water washes
over everything
until there is just one fisherman
until there is just one sea



may two thousand fifteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

men dressed in red


left in the shadows of her siblings
she fell fast asleep in the back seat of daddy’s suv
out of sight and out of mind

the very idea of tomorrow never
entered her most wildest of dreams as she breathed
the shallowest baby breaths

locked inside this man-made trap
a busy world revolves around her curiosities
her arms reaching for the sky

focused on a happy ending
she wills the glass to break into million of pieces
men dressed in red rehearsing
to set her free



may two thousand fifteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

coloring for two


flip style
box top
magically opens
revealing sixty-four crayolas
fingers and voices counting and
calling each by name
eyes sparkling
cheeks blushing
lips smiling
the youngest and oldest of minds
opening up to new ideas
born on white sheets of paper



may two thousand fifteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

black hole sun


the enemy is always within
even in a house built on dreams
seemingly immune to bad news
never teetering on the edge

the enemy awakens out of thin air
like a ghost in the dark
nowhere to hide and nobody to haunt

the enemy is merely a reflection
of something long ago promising
where over the course of time
fades by way of a dying sun



may two thousand fifteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

the killing fields


I hallucinated the worst was over
had traveled across fire
and rice alongside
thousands who looked nothing like me

this waking dream propelled me
back to 1972
when I was just eighteen
and volunteered to free the world

when the war ended I chose to stay
crossed state lines
as an american civilian
aiding and amusing innocent children

many times I had been captured and died
the slowest of deaths
reborn into the same fields
that used to feed a starving people



may two thousand fifteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

call of the wildflowers


where wildflowers bloom warm winds blow
turning rolling fields into motion pictures
on the brightest and fairest of days

round stones sink into dampened soil
concealed by grasses and barely breathing
undiscoverable come summer or fall

footprints aplenty but none of them human
the unreachable never dies
whether here or furthest place imaginable



may two thousand fifteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

a higher frequency


the chatter is always there
two voices going on incessantly
speaking in an unknown language
allegedly having a good time

I understand there are others
but I only hear the two
at times they used to go away for
days or weeks or months
even sometimes indefinitely

I used to think they were my conscience
long before knowing what that is
used to think maybe one day
they would bring me into the fold

those indefinite days long gone
I find it disturbing how I used to
pray for their return
but now I mostly curse at them
and whatever world they came from



may two thousand fifteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

eternal is the spring


the pump in the field rusted red
miraculously sprung back to life
year after year

children jumping over stalks
and stars
barely out of breath
and smiling
seemingly suspended in motion
dashing through the water



may two thousand fifteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

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