jdubqca

poetry by j matthew waters

Archive for the category “Poetry”

home deliveries


this isn’t the moment though at times
it sure feels like it
the way the vibes are bouncing
off the walls
as if they’re the most random
of all happenstances
like an unrehearsed drum solo

I’m roaming the house with a couple
of sticks and music blaring
throughout the intercom system
planting make-believe
booby traps
for all the crazies who keep
ringing the front doorbell




april two thousand twenty
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

handful of wishes


shadows like birds or
birds like shadows
flying behind white linen curtain
coming and going
back & forth and over & under
undoubtedly feeding their young
or chasing their very own
displaced souls

since I couldn’t see
what I couldn’t see
I changed my train of thought
pretending they were giant moths
turned into beautiful butterflies
made possible by a warrior princess
carrying a magic sword
and a handful of wishes




march two thousand twenty
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

after a fortnight in isolation


pooh bear and roo sit on the front porch
rocking in their chairs six feet apart
a wicker table between them
enjoying iced tea & honey & small talk

people passing by gawk & smile & point
delighted to see they’re back in business




march two thousand twenty
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

three more days


it’s friday
and the sun is in hiding
a fugitive
an accessory to the crime
once the great life source
now on the run

it’s anybody’s guess
how long
the rains will last
it’s been three days
since the cleansing began
hope begins to rise




march two thousand twenty
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

I thought you were an angel


there is madness in the silence
or so they say
left to your own devices
it’s impossible to imagine
what may have transpired

the sign on the door reads
no vacancy
but inside the house sits empty
and stocked with supplies

and so you will never know
just how many you could have saved

without any media it’s hard to say
how many survivors
might be out there
maybe in groups of two or three
going door to door




march two thousand twenty
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Living the Life


Maria my sweet Maria
How I wish you would
Find your way back
Back to where you belong

I fell back to earth long ago
Only to be with her
But now she’s gone
Oh yes she is gone
And my translucent blue wings
Are nowhere to be found

Maria my sweet Maria
Tell me which is real
Flying high above the clouds
Or forever in my dreams




march two thousand twenty
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

never greener


we’re planning on breaking camp
and find a less crowded hill
stop somewhere along the way
and reload our dwindling supplies
adding a twelve pack or three
and batteries for the weather radio

I say we’ve been down this road before
and you tell me you don’t wanna die

we make better time at night
rarely speaking and changing channels
the other you falling in & out of sleep
waxing gibbous straight ahead
acting as a third headlight

the grass is never greener anywhere
but we seem to like it that way
rising sun playing hide & seek
with disappearing moon
speeding toward the next county line
half your head outside the window




march two thousand twenty
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

diary of a woman with wings


child of the southern sun
desires stir within
centuries pass
outer appearance changing
minute by minute
egg to feather to sparrow
sparrow to crow to raptor
circling and circling
even higher like an angel
ushering in the darkness
stars falling one after another
trillions of fireflies turn into lightning
piercing hidden clouds
and striking naked trees
rapturing the soil
fertilizing sterile seeds




march two thousand twenty
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

essential workers wearing knockoff sunglasses


I seem to have lost my place in line
maybe that’s not a bad thing
could be better than losing your mind

I used to walk tall among the masses
but now I’m mostly an island
deep inside these inner city streets

whenever I happen upon another
strange & solitary wanderer
my eyes tend to focus on the concrete
for fear any visual contact may spark
unwarranted reactions

I hide all needless valuables
somewhere inside my workstation
where I fill half my day with imagination

the river is only a few blocks away
I close my eyes and venture outside
believing this time I can make it




march two thousand twenty
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

river crossing


lawlessness in all its mad glory
is bound to resurface
as it has repeatedly done
since the beginning of creation

here take my hand
and follow me across the river
to where there is a sense of security
despite the lack of governance

it’s easy to see what they’ve done
once you reach the other side
a collection of ordinary citizens
freely going about their business

you ask how it’s possible this place
lacks crime and pollution
especially with unrestricted borders
and skies that never cry

of course there’s no one answer
and once we arrive and look back
at what we’ve fled
there’s nothing left to recognize




march two thousand twenty
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

until the morning light


practicing the science of fire
on your hands and knees
taking deep breaths
as if swallowing a small world
slightly pausing before exhaling
as furiously as possible
the small tinderbox
quickly engulfed in flames
systematically doubling in size
every hour on the hour
until there is no more




march two thousand twenty
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

a purple kind of day


she stood silent in the walk-in closet
shoulder-length hair wet & combed
clothed in white panties & bralette
finger pressed against lower lip
casually calculating multiple
color combinations

there was no question is was a
purple kind of day
that pious & royal & mysterious
intermediate color
created by combining red & blue
and a little bit of sunshine

only one choice remained
what complementary color would
best bring out her wistful mood
whether traditional yellow
or better yet a softer pink
accentuating her rare allure




march two thousand twenty
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

twenty stories tall


some hypothetical trees are hard to fall
madmen with chainsaws & ropes & pulleys
make calculations and smoke cigarettes
from sunup to sundown they undertake
this nearly impossible task

this one must be made of steel
one of them says
the rest nodding in agreement
scratching their heads and looking skywards

it’s only a matter of time another says
and they bow their heads in silence
grasping the gravity of their predicament




march two thousand twenty
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

springtime festivals


things that crash and clash
like overbought stock markets
and preposterous accessories
blowing up in a single session
and overtaking empty streets
where st. patrick day parades
weave in and out of the hearts
of plump little girls and boys
scooping up wrapped candy
thrown by spooks in makeshift floats
clad in green and grey spacesuits
pants pockets turned inside out




march two thousand twenty
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

gregarious like the locust


why am I stuck here
without an internet connection

flipping through imaginary channels
that once calmed my nerves

but now all that I have is fear

that instinctive natural state
changing me into something I’m not
making me want to bust out onto the scene

like when the short-horned grasshopper
gregariously morphs into the locust

taking over entire fields
systematically moving onto the next

devouring and decimating everything
in its inexhaustible path

their offspring released within the swarm
waxing their wings and singing
alleluia be not afraid




march two thousand twenty
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

problematic at best


you’re like a hologram
I see you and then I don’t
popping in and out at your leisure
green eyes staring me down
or your slender self in my peripheral
back against the wall and arms
extended down your sides

these uncertain times
remind me of the twilight zone
take your pick ~ any episode
or the song itself
exploring offshoot worlds
conveying new ideas in old ways

what if I told you
this is how it will always be
using made up words
and accepting new discoveries
like the congregation of trolls
beneath the quintessential bridge
rewinding yarns and drawing straws




march two thousand twenty
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Post Navigation

%d bloggers like this: