jdubqca

poetry by j matthew waters

Archive for the category “Birds”

mourning dove


do not say a word my love
let this moment stay awhile
like a painting on loan
temporarily free for all to see

one night I dreamed we kissed
beneath artificial lights
our surreal solitary star
undetected yet pulsating

once morning arrives
I awake to singing voices
projecting shadows
on my wall of memory




october two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

mockingbird


close your eyes and count backwards from three
and see what the world will give you

close your eyes and make a wish you’ve never wished before

to be sure your soul may be hurting but there is nothing
wrong with your sight or your heart or your mind

hush little baby and close your big beautiful eyes
for it’s time to dream of new worlds that await you

hush little baby and let loose your imagination
and whatever it is you may do
please don’t you cry




july 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

end of speed limit


roadside singer
quite colorful and
resting comfortably atop
curved guard rail
counting blue cars
and red motorcycles
racing by like clockwork
ruffling feathers
and drowning out
magical sounds
inspired by god herself




may two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all right reserved

patient like the blackbird


in my isolation blackbird does appear
stammering about calmly impatient
deliberately explaining to me
my imaginary predicament

he says we’ve flown many times
into the unknown
much like a dream that repeats
but only after long intervals
like how distant planet orbits her sun

I’ve rescued you many times
(he goes on to explain)
taking you to the safety of the towers
where you witness firsthand
flocks of blackbirds
feasting into the night




april two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

reunions and migrations


on the first of march we huddled together
and prayed to the sun god
promising to seek the straight and narrow path
that which leads to understanding
and forgiveness

though we speak the same language
we all arrived here from different points
each of us given a chance to free our mind
whether we wanted to or not

there is joy in telling and
comfort in listening
some of us sitting
some of us standing
others on the fringe of the all
encompassing circle
unsure whether to step inside
or forever fly alone

having committed to return to same place
and same time next year
we counted our blessings
and dispersed back into uncertainty
like migratory passerines
having predictable places to go





march two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

interpretive footpath


bluegrass nature trail
brings back ancient memories
sometimes green and
sometimes slightly snow-covered
always surrounded by
black-capped chickadees
zip-lining happily between oak trees
chatting noisily and
encouraging all to follow
skyscraper shadows
stretching all the way back
to prehistoric wetlands





february two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

rock cornish game hen under glass


at the rehearsal dinner father
decided on cornish game hen and
purple potatoes and string beans

everyone eventually figured out
how to get at the damn thing
either by word-of-mouth or
step-by-step instructions

as the servers cleared the tables
all I could think about was how we
used to smoke hash under glass
right there on his dining room table





november two thousand seventeen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

jailbreak


covertly they were collecting doves
over a thirty day period
rounding them up like common criminals
caged in underground cells

there were marches in streets
and scuffles in alleyways
pigeons and geese and sparrows
fleeing the city
lest they too be taken into custody

on the outskirts of town
swallow-tailed kites and red-shouldered
hawks circle high overhead
co-conspiring to take out the sheriff
now that all hell has broken loose





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

blackbirds biding their time


twilighty on an october evening
cats a’meowing and quiet moon
maybe making an appearance

I’ve seen you in this race before
maybe it was ten years ago
or maybe it was yesterday

these pockmarks on my cheeks
they don’t mean a thing
I regret you ever saw them

those moons we rarely see
orbiting worlds we barely know
absolutely belong here

and why you decided to go
long before your time
has everything to do with them



october two thousand seventeen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

winter without black crows


how I really feel I cannot ascertain
there are too many rats chasing facts
and not enough truths in the supply chain

and so I retreat into the comfort
that is black and white and oh so very cold

lone blue jay and two magpies
occupy much of my time
now that winter has nearly settled in

outside there are fallen trees to feed the fire
but I venture out only if I must

my deepest sleep often find bluejay
and two magpies flying from treetop to treetop

and as dawn appears they fall back to earth
sleepwalking on nearby trails

come midmorning they find themselves
back in my own backyard
eager to chatter about their escapades
and how next time I should join them



october two thousand seventeen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

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