jdubqca

poetry by j matthew waters

Archive for the category “Birds”

brand new bluebird song


there was this poem I used to keep
in my back pocket
kind of like bukowski’s bluebird
only not as hopeful and
not as sad
but plenty sorrowful in its own right

one day somebody asked to borrow it
and I gave it away without even thinking
I gave it away
like it was a knee jerk reaction
like when shutting the door behind you
instantaneously realizing
you just locked yourself out

the poem lives on in somebody
else’s life now
leaving me to explore the city streets
sandals on feet and opera glasses in hand
capturing glimpses of brand new blues



june two thousand seventeen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

rumors of an evacuation


for some reason only the crickets
came out that night
and before the break of dawn
all of the birds will have left the city

at the inception it was a nonevent
but in retrospect
it shouldn’t have taken so long
before the people started leaving



june two thousand seventeen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

the next rainbow


water-colored clouds fill the sky
painted bird flexing her wings
sitting atop chalkboard line

everywhere there is repetition
right down to nanocreatures
living and dying in nanoseconds
catching wave after wave after wave

clouds give way to a super sun
washing out the painted bird
taken to flight and searching again



june two thousand seventeen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

like a crow on a sign post


there is an intangible stirring somewhere
perhaps in the clouds or in the water
in the ground or in the fire
it doesn’t matter ‘where’ really
it could be in the economy or in the wars
lying dormant in a billion dreams
it could be current events or
your everyday laissez-faire
but it is most definitely there
designed to reassure
true change is inevitable



june two thousand seventeen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

stuck on track eleven


half dozen white-eyed blackbirds
pace and fidget on a shelf
grooving to the white album
and lip-syncing at will

unsure what brought them there
not one of them cares
not as long as there are nuts to crack
and old-time rock to hear



may two thousand seventeen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

after the last day of april


it’s the first of may and all I have left
is this desire to sleep and
witness ruby-throated hummingbirds
feasting upon the flowers



may day two thousand seventeen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

a voice that carries


it’s there
unmistakably there
like a little bird
waiting in the wings
shuddering occasionally
and whispering nonstop

even when it’s not there
it is there
but as you try to explain
to the woman in the mirror
words can’t express
what the whispers possess

windows open
as do doors
they open and shut like the
changing of the seasons

and just when you think
you’ve lost something inside
it returns in full flight
like a long-awaited echo



february two thousand seventeen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

reminiscing


it’s not too late
this night of the living
awaken and sing
your lonely songs

trees like old men
bent over and supported
by crooked canes
look they say
they are just like me
we are one in the same

there is comfort knowing
we may have been down
this road before
hand in hand like
old lovers reunited
recaptured by the light

day turns into night
the songs begin again
sung by nightingales
aspiring to be angels



january two thousand seventeen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

like a canary in a cage


anyone can write the monday blues
how the fog maybe lifts by noon
smartphones unable to upgrade
all on their own

the list grows longer whether it’s
monday or not
liberty or death is
(a matter of) life and breath
invisible wounds like words
perhaps self-inflicted or
suspiciously accidental

there is an artist who really
knows for sure
but they aren’t playing in any
kind of rhythm and blues band

oh no they ain’t singing
like a canary in a cage
dreaming of the sky



december two thousand sixteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

flying beyond the coastal meadow


he licked his thumb and stuck it
directly overhead
his eyes rolled back and calculating

and just then a wheatear
sitting atop a stone wall
takes to flight
leading the way

tiny feet trampled upon the greenest
of the greenest grass
at least three feet tall
tiny legs scissoring through the field
giving chase to the wheatear

cameras clicked and videos rolled
as the children from the bus
raced past the field
and onto the beach
and splashing into the ocean
the lone wheatear
flying past the lighthouse
gone but not forgotten


august two thousand sixteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

it’s sometime in August and it’s rained for days


alone I sit in the sunroom
wondering when in the world
I’ll see the light of day
or mow the yard
or ride my bike
or snap photograph
after photograph
in the once colorful garden

in the meantime
ruby-throated hummingbirds
feast on homemade nectar
the feeder hanging beneath the eave
the rain not stopping them
from coming and going
as they damn well please


august two thousand sixteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

I lost my smile and moved along


these feathers cannot tickle me
they only make me sad
knowing once they soared above
in search of one true love

these feathers I did come across
beyond the beaten path
black and white and gray like a ghost
commingling with rotting leaves

to pick them up and take them home
or let them fade where they will
I lost my smile and moved along
knowing later I’d retrace my steps


april two thousand sixteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

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