jdubqca

poetry by j matthew waters

Archive for the category “Fishing”

13 Jun 2016

emerald green are the waters


jesus wasn’t with us that day
we caught all the shrimp
he was inland teaching the little ones
how to set their sights

the wind was friendly that day
and by the time we pulled in
the sublime sun reflected off
limp sails onto gentle wakes

in the evening we all gathered
eating & drinking & listening
to all the old stories
the ones certain to be retold
rewritten for centuries to come




Photograph by Catherine Grosskopf (click to enlarge)


june two thousand sixteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Fishing, Poetry and tagged , | Leave a comment
06 Feb 2016
7 Comments

pretending to be understood


he found himself often
talking to himself and others
at the tavern
where bartenders were able
to read his mind
through a silent language
or some other nuance

he loved to talk sports and politics
religion and economics
no topic too toxic for his liking
quick as a flash he was
and sharp as a tack
there was no disputing
his tongue never got drunk

everyone knew he made
a living catching fish
you could smell it on his breath
beneath the whiskey
underneath the fluency of romantic
languages he often
inserted into his american english

poetry is of no importance
he often told his listeners
even if there wasn’t anyone
listening
but he would continue on anyway
telling the story of the love of his life
a mermaid from the mediterranean
who indiscreetly broke his heart

and the bartender would nod
and pour something neat
between them

“aye you are johnny on the spot”
he would say
“despite my inconsistencies you’ve
always managed to understand me”


february two thousand sixteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Fishing, Poetry and tagged , , ,
25 Dec 2015

Tilapia Galilaea


At home in the sea
he embeds himself inside cedar planks
contoured and shallow and
pieced together by artisan mariners
who row and chant
a square canvass hoisted high
harnessing the wind atop low tides

Calling into the waves
his mesmerizing cries enchant
Saint Peter’s fishes
swarming and succumbing and blessed
to be inside the netting
hurriedly emptied into the boat
and saved by the grace of God


december two thousand fifteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Dogma, Fishing, Poetry and tagged , , , | Leave a comment
16 Dec 2015
8 Comments

waiting to be born


we worked both sides of the stream
looking for deep pools to cast our souls

it was late september and a cool breeze
had gradually reddened your cheeks

we had strolled along for an hour now
stopping on two occasions
enticing brown trout to strike live bait

filtered light shone through a network
of ripened limbs losing their luster
revealing a part of you I had never seen

without saying a word we picked up
our things and moved on empty-handed

over the years the stream had changed
but over my lifetime remained the same

looking back I spotted a young me
pretending to be someone I was not
catching my limit in very short order

little did I know you were always near
guiding me back to this solitary place
years before you were meant to be born


december two thousand fifteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Fishing, Poetry and tagged , ,
20 Jun 2015

saving the next city


how many miles we traveled
far from shore I do not know
the early morning city lights
flickering atop gentle waves
skyscrapers sinking into their
self-induced holes as
madmen rush to resurrect them

the fish were striking at an incredible
pace and the captain had trouble
resetting all the downriggers
while house flies persistently bit
the whitest of legs
reminding the youngest of men
everything comes with a price

at the end of the day as the boat
drifted back to shore
there were no women or children
welcoming them back home

there were no lights
no music streaming from pipes

but the streets
the streets they were weeping
streets littered by madmen
already destroying the next city



june two thousand fifteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Fishing, In the City, Poetry, War Poems and tagged , , , , | Leave a comment
04 Apr 2015
8 Comments

jesus from tokyo


I saw jesus on tokyo bay
speaking spanglish and
directing fishing boats
like a venerable traffic cop

dressed in seamless jeans
and oversized shirt
he unveiled the sun with his hands
welcoming all to follow in his wake

docking close to disney at night
the city prefect greeted him with
flowers and rings and keys
proceeding to escort his entourage
to the enchanted tiki room

swapping stories and feasting
on the day’s catch
tourists gradually gathered round
sampling the uncooked bounty
imported from half a world away





april two thousand fifteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Fishing, In the City, Poetry and tagged , , , , ,
11 Jun 2013
17 Comments

fishing with jesus


sometimes I just cry myself to sleep
when I think about all the things
I’m gonna miss about this place
I told jesus
as we sat on the rocks
casting our lines out into the sea
neither of us worrying
whether or not there was fish to catch



june two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Dogma, Dreams, Fishing, Micropoetry, Poetry and tagged , , , ,
20 Jan 2013
9 Comments

how deep is the sea


sitting cross-legged on the floor
my mind shut the door
and i was left alone
in the dark
with a candle and a match

i closed my eyes and focused
on a fire burning in the belly
of a giant fish that swallowed me whole
delivering me to unfathomable depths
where indescribable creatures
ruled an invisible world

as ocean waves crashed on top of me
the door violently swung open
and the room became drenched
with natural light
my hand still holding
the unlit match
the candle
nowhere to be found


january two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Dreams, Fishing, Poetry and tagged , , , , , , , , ,
29 Dec 2012
5 Comments

breaking the silence


it was the silence he said
that rocked his world
giving him thoughtful insight
into the universe

i thought that sounded nice
so i ordered another round
and asked him to feed me more

he said god would visit him often
while fishing the deep pools
lock and dam fourteen created
near the banks of the mississippi

it was there when the whole world
slept that catfish after catfish
struck his line
breaking the silence
and exorcising
the demons
planted inside him centuries ago
by a paranoid church and state

i leaned back in the barstool
and nodded my head
drawing smoke to my lungs
curiously asking him
about the bait he used
as the bartender yelled
‘last call’


december two thousand twelve
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Dogma, Fishing, Poetry and tagged , , , , ,
16 Sep 2012
6 Comments

catch and release


standing in the cloudless water
filled with rocks and sediment
and good vibrations
i cast my line
at a buffeted white boulder
shadowing a four foot pool

i pull and pause the jig with imprecise
rhythm along the creek bed
darting to the left
and to the right
jerking and sliding at my command
like a puppeteer playing the part

i bring home the jig and recast
at the same target as before
one eye focused
on the motion
the other at the rainbow trout
dormant and disinterested

over time my mind wanders
as the jig continues the routine
teasing its nemesis
with its tastiness
destined to vanish into the dark
and revive me from my trance


september two thousand twelve
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Fishing, Poetry and tagged , , , , ,
03 Jun 2012

Superstition


I awoke around four
on a Sunday morning
and couldn’t get back to sleep
so I got out of bed
and threw my fishing pole
and tackle box in the back seat
of my Bimmer
headed North to the nearest trout stream

When I reached Monastery Creek
I heard a rooster crow
at a nearby farm
awakening all the superstitious critters
who believed I had come
to save their souls


june two thousand twelve
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Fishing, Poetry and tagged , , , , | Leave a comment
24 May 2012

daydreaming


i’m itching to get you out
on the county roads
with the top down
speeding and laughing
across two counties
weaving our way
toward the trout stream
marked on the map
alive in our dreams


may two thousand twelve
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Dreams, Fishing, Poetry and tagged , , , | Leave a comment
06 May 2012
2 Comments

Little Mill


We used to get in the car and drive Northeast
to Bellevue in Jackson County,
to a place where prehistoric Woodland Indians once roamed;
where Blackhawk himself used to call home.

Nearing the outskirts of town we wended along
the side of a hill on a gravel road,
the valley below offering pastures and wild fields
in between the meandering Little Mill.

We always ventured all the way into town first
to the Mississippi River,
where Dad would fill up with gas and buy donuts,
live bait, and a pack of cigarettes.

It was then we would run across the busy street
to the green steel fence rail,
look out over the Mighty Mississippi, count the sails
dotted up and down the river.

There was plenty of fish to catch in the river
Dad always pontificated,
but Little Mill offered what the Mississippi could not:
Rainbow Trout and isolation.


may two thousand twelve
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Fishing, Poetry and tagged , , , , ,

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