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poetry by j matthew waters

Archive for the category “Poetry”

Bed & Breakfast Open for Business


Getaway from the city
or whatever workaday world
surrounds you

Slow things down
by way of
Italian vegetable soup
and tapioca pudding

There are trails out back
reminding you
of wars long fought
and strategies undeployed
certain memories retained
others lost in recesses
of prior lives

What have you to
go back to
now that you’ve found
this place
where cold showers
and
made-to-order breakfasts
jumpstart your day

This business of
nothing but business
can only get you so far
    or so you
interestingly
          begin to tell yourself



october two thousand seventeen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

alien illuminations


I’m finished seeking forgiveness
will instead focus on
the power of forgiving others
before it’s too late

there is this illumination
glowing within the soul
needing to burst out
and chart a brand new course

solitude is much different
than loneliness
whether lost at sea or
mapping brand new constellations

though familiar with connecting dots
these stars shine differently
leaving you strangely amazed
now that you are finally free



october two thousand seventeen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

uncommon denominator


not everyone can be right so by default
all of us must be wrong


and so by nature we are born imperfect
bound by laws of the land
whether raised by good samaritans
or pack of wolves

leaders come and leaders go
and while few have managed
to make some sort of difference
it is wise to duck and run from the rest
from their abusiveness of the very institutions
having sworn to love and serve

yet there is much light to be found
outside the very door
attempting to keep you in the darkness
indeed it would be a waste
should you chose not open it



october two thousand seventeen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

to return as rose of any color


this place runs like a machine
or so weary migrants are told
especially when those in charge
are nowhere to be found

during downtimes god relaxes
inside art studio painting blue skies
high above snowy mountaintops
or conjuring up deadly vortices
tormenting defenseless islands
and populated coastlines

there are plenty of places to hide
but nowhere to run
unless of course getting
caught in the action
is all you have in mind

who will pick me up when I fall
or better yet
toss me back into the machinery
so that I may try one more time



october two thousand seventeen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

digging up dirt on a sunday afternoon


I wasn’t looking for anything
which was the whole point

out of the blue I discovered the knowledge
I thought I had acquired over the years
has been with me all along

year by year and one by one
I give up that which was given to me
whether I had wanted it or not
whether I had loved it
or hated it
or felt entirely indifferent toward it

there is truth and there is trust
neither quite like the other
but both touchable and tastable
as fleeting as death itself

and so when I am busily digging
not looking for anything in particular
I find myself uncovering
that which is worth dying for



october two thousand seventeen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

macy’s thanksgiving day parade


an ordinary autumn day
colorful trees swelling like a piñata
stretching to reach a bright
and amazingly beautiful blue sky
pretty pink pigs with angel wings
noisily floating overhead



october two thousand seventeen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

california breaking away


and finally the fires extinguished
themselves
giving way to rains and
eventually floods
chasing ants and jesus freaks
to higher ground

and from the heavens angels
watch amusingly
as noah takes up residence
outside beverly hills
repairing his ark
gradually garnering attention



october two thousand seventeen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Multitasking Conqueror


I was sitting in this Internet Café
that place everyone said
you couldn’t get a seat

I had thought I had accomplished
some meaningful feat
but turns out was a nonevent in the
grand scheme of things

Internet exposes me first hand
horrors of natural disasters and war
of poverty and unspeakable atrocities
the great god himself looking overhead
neither condoning nor condemning
but positively commandeering the
power to my laptop



october two thousand seventeen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

alive and well at twenty-one


she came to visit for a few hours
on a sunday afternoon

it was a blustery but sunny day
wind chimes sounding off loud and clear
inside toasty sunroom

she got up from the sofa
holding teacup below her chin
gazing out south facing windows

“it’s a shame your garden’s dying
it was so beautiful last time I was here”

(to her everything is dying so I just let it go)

I didn’t have the heart to tell her
the garden turned twenty-one this year
and is very much alive and well



october two thousand seventeen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

open doors on the streets of paris


how the streets shine at night
after an all day rain
lost in the city of lights
you walk for hours on end

this language is not your own
but translates easily
into living and breathing poetry
complementing misty air

there is warmth in the most
unimaginable places
but somehow you manage
to find temporary solace

you arrive here as planned
but become lost over time
your final words a resting place
recorded for all to hear



october two thousand seventeen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

on call on a friday night


how do I replace all the friends
I’ve lost along the way
at what point will it be the end
of the road for me

it’s silly to dwell on such thoughts
but sometimes ego
unexpectedly takes over
suggesting I fall to my knees

road signs keep cropping up
further and further from the city
expanding the time it takes
to find inner peace

meanwhile I sit idly by
counting virtual dollars in the
palm of my hand
waiting somewhat impatiently



october two thousand seventeen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

sisters feeding robins


oh my how robin sings his sad sad song
perched atop window sill on monastery hill
long after summer suns and autumn breezes

flocks of butterflies sailed off overnight
leaving behind memories suppressed by the sun
abducting yesterday’s rainbow colored skies

candles give light to hallways and kitchens
chaste sisters making chocolates and caramels
tidbits for thrushes certain to arise come spring



october two thousand seventeen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

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