jdubqca

poetry by j matthew waters

Archive for the category “Birds”

02 May 2023

coming & going as they please


something touched my shoulder
perhaps I had been dozing off
in & out of a dream

my eyes flickered
but it was too dark to see
instead heard metallic wind chimes
as if they had just been rewound

whoever was responsible
[for the touching and/or rewinding]
did not show themselves
in fact I started to believe they had minimized themselves
having fled into the woods behind the garden

it was cold out but plenty bright
and when I opened the blinds
the light was blinding
and for a brief moment I thought I saw them

I should have known not to open the blinds
at least not without an approving birdcall
something that had been missing
since before my self-induced slumber

I’m stuck
where I’ve been stuck
for what seems like a fortnight now
this rectangular room seemingly self-sustaining
three sides made of glass
the other w/a singular door

slightly ajar
floral & fauna
completely silent
looking in from the outside





may two thousand twenty-three
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Animals, Birds, Dreams, Nature, Poetry and tagged , , | Leave a comment
07 Apr 2023
2 Comments

chicken & egg


foot tapping
one two three four five
meditating
for good measure
incubating ideas
germinated long ago

the big cheese
stolen in broad daylight
a pack of blind mice
drawing straws
contemplating
mass murdering

the hash pipe
always out of sight
in a shoe
an ashtray
the junkiest of drawers
in the kitchen

getting closer
warmer then colder
back & forth
tile or carpet or wood
the hatching
a surprise ending





april two thousand twenty-three
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Animals, Birds, Poetry and tagged , , ,
15 Mar 2023
4 Comments

as birds lay dreaming


it’s three in the morning
having awakened after maybe
three hours rest

walking slowly down the steps
the blue moon filters
into the house from various angles

I command the corner lamp
to power on to level one
wondering what my dear mother would do

I imagine she went for the cabinet
squatting like a catcher
calling her next pitch

the shelf above the refrigerator
is where the spirits live
I blame them for awakening me

settling in on the bay window chair
I reminisce of the thousands of dreams
of flying & talking & singing like a bird

having faced countless perils
perhaps I’d not survived an horrific dive
or was shot out of the clear blue sky

how many times can you possibly die
in a bed of make-believe roses
how many species of birds can you be





march two thousand twenty-three
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Animals, Birds, Dreams, Poetry and tagged , , ,
10 Mar 2023

underestimation


the wary boy preferred
the shadows
learned early on how to stay
barely above the surface
carefully picking all the data
he would ever need

the lonely girl caught on
to his movements
emulating habits & methods
taking notes as she went
molding & crafting them
into her very own

at one point both noticed
a little yellow bird
sporting a brand new song
an emphasis of sorts
shining a light on their faces
for all the world to see





march two thousand twenty-three
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Birds, Poetry and tagged , , , | Leave a comment
15 Jan 2023
2 Comments

convergence at the river


did you see that spark
in the sky
spooking thousands of blackbirds
and sending them
to the stars

the earth shook
from the footfalls of five hundred
elephants
rushing away from the scene
of the crime
in absolute terror

the nuclear winter
was unmistakably inevitable
all the armies of the world
laying down their arms
praying the world
as we know it
will recover from its losses





january two thousand twenty-three
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Animals, Birds, Poetry, War Poems and tagged , ,
19 Dec 2022

lord of the birds


birds & song & moving picture
congealing into a triangle
far away but coming into focus
slowly nearing the breakline
brought closer by the moon
& an inland breeze
children of the sand
pointing & jumping & shouting
we are saved
we are saved





december two thousand twenty-two
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Birds, Micropoetry, Nature, Poetry and tagged , , | Leave a comment
15 Dec 2022

truth or dare


nobody knew there would
be a test today
not even the teacher

a bomb threat forced them
to vacate the premises
and they set off on foot
to the amphitheater
on the west side of the
tree-lined river

it was there they exposed
their souls
one by one for some
others two by two
and even three by three
queried intensely
of life & death
in the end left to choose
either truth or dare

creativity had no limits
in what became
a sacred undertaking
where birds of different colors
sought the safety of the trees
experiencing the discomfort
of the tragedy
and the relief of the comedy
of the spoken word
filling the open air





december two thousand twenty-two
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Birds, In the City, Poetry and tagged , , , , | Leave a comment
27 Oct 2022
2 Comments

underestimation


I’m a songbird
without a song
whispering sweet
nothings

there is sadness
in the silence
this much I know

I’m a songbird
without a song
listening for a clue
on a windless night

but there is only sadness
in the silence
this much I know

I’m a songbird
without a song
underestimated
and determined

turning sadness
into a melody
this much I know

practicing wetting
my whistle
until the morning light





october two thousand twenty-two
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Birds, Poetry and tagged , , ,
08 Oct 2022
4 Comments

the executioner’s crow


there is tension
and then it goes away
no explanation

you sit back & look
for a new way in
there has to be a treasure
down there somewhere

you mark the spot in your brain
and you fly away

so many times I’ve been
destroyed
but you always come back
digging me up
from the grave

this world has always been
white & blue & black
the latter near perfect
in its execution





october two thousand twenty-two
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Birds, Poetry and tagged , ,
29 Sep 2022
1 Comment

angel as a songbird


I’m not going to rhyme
I swear I won’t
even though this poem
is about a songbird

there are seven of them
[actually]
inside the bush
swapping silly stories
thriving on higher vibes

a single gust of wind
sets them aflutter
alighting where required
to give aid & comfort





september two thousand twenty-two
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Birds, Dogma, Poetry and tagged , ,
02 Sep 2022
2 Comments

a shadow of their former selves


he thinks she’s gassed
not drunk
just exhausted to the bone
by way of living
flat-footed & unable to react
like she once used to

he’s not doing much better
pretending to be a bird
surviving
on seeds & roadkill
an occasional
brandy slightly chilled

they sold or gave away
everything
& took their act on the road
convinced there was something
out there
besides consumption





september two thousand twenty-two
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Birds, Poetry and tagged , ,
12 Jun 2022
2 Comments

dual linguistics


slipping in & out of consciousness
the world is suddenly strange again
going from one calamity
to the next
hopeful something wonderful
is on the horizon

an alternative reality may be that I’m
actually dead
as reported two plus years ago
after the new flu broke out
leaving me hanging around in this place
and that
waiting for someone or something
to tell me what I should do

one thing’s for sure
that is the birds on the other side
are starting to make
more & more sense
as I continue to pick up
on some of their languages





june two thousand twenty-two
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Birds, Poetry and tagged , ,
02 Jun 2022

a radical change of pace


we keep the doors locked
when at home
and unlocked when gone
seems like the most reasonable
thing to do

most of the neighbors
have been replaced
—since we never talked to the old ones
[in the first place]
we’re not speaking
to the new

it’s like we’re living
inside a hitchcock movie
strangers viewable
through their rear windows
training birds of prey
right there
in broad daylight
the ones without feathers
probably drones





june two thousand twenty-two
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Birds, In the City, Poetry, War Poems and tagged , , | Leave a comment
22 Apr 2022

sorrowful pilgrimage


it was the day after
our bones tattered & torn
knowing not if we were
dead of alive

overnight the crows
became nocturnal
as if the poles had reversed
after a century
of fluctuating

they had become
our field guide
and though we asked
they wouldn’t say if we were
dead or alive

time passed as if
in reverse
each lifeless town we reached
showed no sign of
blood or skin or bone

wildflowers grew by the roadside
we picked them
we put them to our noses
but to no avail

the crows said it was okay to eat them

and so we did

as we traveled further
back in time
the crows became
eerily quiet
in the dead of night

and we knew not if we were
dead or alive





april two thousand twenty-two
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Birds, Poetry, War Poems and tagged , , , | Leave a comment
16 Apr 2022

going in for the kill


there were only three of us
but we managed to make a sound
unlike any other birdsong

we hung out in alder trees
creek & trail fifty feet below
passing along the binoculars
spying on pretend prey

diving headlong & swooping
living & dying in a precise moment
as if in an endless dream





april two thousand twenty-two
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Birds, Poetry and tagged , , | Leave a comment
09 Apr 2022
1 Comment

crossing the line


I tell myself I can’t write poetry like that
that my voice just won’t obey
what the mind wants to imitate

and even though I once was a blackbird
my voice will sing no more

isolated by accident
I consider knives & scissors & fingernail
cutting up a past by creating
jagged shapes out of paper
and new definitions out of thin air

how the pieces get put back together
is out of my control
for there are more compelling things
to consider as we cross over the line





april two thousand twenty-two
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Birds, Poetry and tagged , ,

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