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poetry by j matthew waters

Archive for the category “Poetry”

eviction notice


I lost my lunch money
or maybe the cat ate it
the monetary note in my pocket
used to be worth something
but now won’t even buy me
a slice of love

the old lady next door
has a pecan pie
cooling on the window sill
she’s trying to entice me
I just know it
but I won’t fall for it again

all the houses
thirteen blocks away
have all but vanished
some saying if the winds
don’t reverse direction soon
we’ll be evicted next




june two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

a prayer of thankfulness


though temporary
the heat of the day sends our thoughts
well beyond our fears
sympathetic to the miseries of the poor
seeking shelter any possible way
a slice of shade from a city wall
or beneath a tree that has given
comfort to multitudes over the years

in the city center public fountains
create rainbows
children chasing pots of gold
gifts from the gods of nourishment
who giveth and taketh without discretion
a reminder that we are all but a step
away in or out of the fray

be thankful for what you have
whether it be a piece of cloth
or a handful of clay to be
molded into new possibilities
be hopeful and lend a hand
whenever possible
for you will be rewarded
twentyfold in this world and the next




june two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

without love I won’t survive


it’s not easy to survive without love
someone to touch
if only for a moment in time
attempting to describe
that which can never be
like a sunset in wintertime
that was meant for only you and me




june two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

summer rains and falling stars


stardust in the exosphere
older than the moon
purveyor of time
mysteriously coexisting
and quietly contributing
to the evolution of life

wayward meteors
breach the surface
children of the earth
pointing and marveling
saying look there goes
another shooting star

oh there she goes again
bringing with her
more ancient stardust
making it fall like rain
nourishing the very ground
we so heavily trod upon




june two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

a lesson in forgiving oneself


so here we are again
resting comfortably on the veranda
              subconsciously
dissecting the gemini new moon
reminiscing about what could have been
       and what will be
after we have left this earth

emotional scars supercede
the physical variety
              the former carried
into the afterlife
       the latter simply becoming
compost or better yet
              burns in the fire

it’s perfectly fine to have regrets
but the chances of being born again
              increase tenfold
and if not ~ well there are no guarantees
       that the sky is ever the limit




june two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

soaring high by her side


he instinctively wants to feed her
but has no idea where to begin
unable to comprehend
if he should start with the seed
or pick the fruit from the vine

she understands him much better
than he knows himself
but does not say a word
instead focuses on cleansing
his shoreline by bringing
wave upon wave upon wave

she nourishes him subconsciously
sublimely feeding him music
soothingly repeating his name
weaving wildflowers in his mane

he dreams of cherry tomatoes
and purple grapes
widening his mouth like a starved fledgling
having no idea one day
he will be soaring high by her side




june two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

at the speed of light


skipping rocks in space
the flatter the better so they say
skimming along invisible waves
making wishes as they fade
light years away

where they finally wind up
nobody really knows
(except the creator)
perhaps as a collective of
gold-colored coins
deposited into a simple pot
strategically placed
at the end of an endless rainbow




june two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

artists on the run


we are everyday people
well known on the streets
beloved but misunderstood
working for the greater good
and transitioning day by day

authorities keep us running
from one place to the next
from city to state to country
carving calligraphy inside caves
pasting portraits of unsung
heroes on border walls

we are everyday people
telling your untold stories
stories of scarcity and neglect
praying the world one day
wakes up and takes notice




june two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

black-eyed children


they show up unannounced
usually in pairs
one child taller than the other
both seemingly out of place in time
both in speech and in dress
beckoning you in such a way that will
make every hair on your body rise

they might ring your doorbell
approach you while walking alone
or simply parked in your car
asking for a ride or to use your phone
so that they may contact their parents

they appear to be in distress
their skin pale and eyes dark
and when you finally come close enough
to discover they have no pupils
no corneas
no white showing at all
you immediately become afflicted

do not acquiesce to their requests
instead keep your distance
run away
lock your doors
pray they simply move on
for nobody knows what consequences
may transpire should you choose
to open your heart to them




june two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

This poem is in response to a blog post I came across today by Paranormal Author, Artist & Empath Sheila Renee Parker entitled “Spooky Random Fact: #9”

saturday morning at wal*mart


razor blades and toothbrush
unscented hand lotion and 1.75 cheaters

birdseed and potting soil and charcoal briquettes
checking the price on old-fashioned weber grill

looking down at the list I walk mechanically
10w40 motor oil
maybe a fishing lure or two
floor mats for the mazda
safety glasses and fluorescent vest

I find myself singing to the music piped in
or is it just my imagination
pretending I don’t see zombies
walking by with their carts and belly buttons
exposed tattoos and piercings and odor
reminding me not to forget to pick up
a few bars of soap

retrograding back to where I left off
I peruse bicycles suspended magically
promising someone special one day
this one will be hers

shoes and sandals and wranglers
fruit of the loom and hawaiian shirts
all marked down for people just like me

asking myself how I’m gonna pay for
all of this
I smile broadly and quietly whistle
pushing my cart purposely
up and down the grocery aisles




june two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

surviving the winter without her


there were so many things to be said
but instead I lay silent
knowing that spring was here
that it could be the last

she loved wearing summer dresses
falling just below the knee
floral in pattern and ever so light
and when the sun hit just right
cast me back into one of her spells

by the time autumn arrives
her god-given powers faded southward
rendering me to my own devices
leaving me to decide for myself
how to survive another winter




june two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

lost opportunities


these addictions have become commonplace
even though in reality they’ve
resided in the recesses of everyday minds
centuries before either you or I were born

what I wouldn’t give to hear your guitar
gently weeping again
taking me to places specific in time
places meant for only you and me

the storm destined to light up the night sky
somehow dissolved into nothingness
and so here I sit all alone again
wondering what could have been




june two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

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