jdubqca

poetry by j matthew waters

Archive for the category “Micropoetry”

in the dead of winter


I’m on the fence again
like a crow at the county’s edge
contemplating his next move

winter lasts forever here
sunlight bouncing off the white carpet
and back into space

I’m not much for small talk
and the pace can’t get much slower
thoughts frozen in time

inside beside the burning fire
a notebook & sharpened pencils
whispering my name





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

tomorrow


it’s broken
you can’t fix it
my vision cannot
correct itself on a dime


I’ve been hitchhiking
for what seems
like a century
every morning
finding myself in line

they say there is a god
that can fix your
temporary ailments
even though I say
tomorrow is already here





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

the gathering


the spirits in the apple orchard
gathered after dusk
one by one placing fallen apples
into their wicker baskets


it was a moonless night
and the children in the farmhouse
were looking out their bedroom window
mesmerized at the faintest of light
flickering amongst the trees





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

vagrancy


a foreigner with wings
surveying the land
the upper air icy cold
crystalized by the sun


they say the invader
is merely a wanderer
having arrived in peace
& perhaps to die here





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

toying with infinity


a change of scenery
isn’t that what it’s all about
four or five seasons
rotating in & out of your life
commingling &
at times digressing
fast-forwarding supersonically
daydreaming & transcribing
without actually going
anywhere in particular





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

something like poetry


idling on tokyo avenue
waiting for the light to turn green
boston blaring from coaxial speakers
back in the summer of seventy-nine

it’s easy to misremember
exactly how everything
went down in the day
but the music
that’s another story entirely
always open to interpretation





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

desert sky


we sang with the coyote
their desert song
in the darkness of a
moonless night

do not be sad my love
although the song may fade
the stars are certain
to align again





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

micrometeorite


I understand there’s a second moon
orbiting crazily the planet earth
nothing like the luna we’ve come to love & idolize
but more like a rock
one that you hold in your hand
making it either warmer or cooler
throwing away as high & as far as you like
wondering if it will ever come back





november two thousand twenty-one
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

with winter in mind


a full frost moon
rises & grows & shines
through the leafless elms
yawning & stretching
toward the opposite horizon
a dark red sky
overtaking cirrus clouds
gradually fading
into a deep purple
succumbing to the night





november two thousand twenty-one
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

seven colours


dressing in moods requires
an extensive wardrobe

consider the rainbow
(for example) she says
on the surface only seven colours
but if you possess enough ambition
can easily be turned into countless
ambiguous amalgamations





november two thousand twenty-one
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

the law of my beating heart


my heart was water
like a single solitary pond
alone in a field
surrounded by wildflowers
a man-made pump
somewhat in the middle
keeping the circulation going

there once was a trail
starting from the roadside
a circular route
to the center of my heart
beaten down by foot
eventually replaced by
mechanisms purely natural





november two thousand twenty-one
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

no place left to go


so I found you
one piece out of five
hundred
and I placed you
in a place
where only you would
feel comfortable

it’s no easy answer
living day by day
but I’m not sure
if it’s worth it
as long as
there’s no place
left to go





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

the toymaker


if the toymaker had a number
it would be number nine
she would keep it in a locket
always worn near her heart
a reminder to always empty the tank
for the benefit of all the children





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

while under a severe storm warning


in a crowded auditorium
I was hand picked by my teacher
“which direction do birds
fly for the winter” was the question
probably directed my way with a certain
level of confidence in my answer
but I replied with something other than “south”
and thus it was from that point forward
I lost all but a crumb of credibility
at the budding young age of five & a half





august two thousand twenty-one
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

gun for hire


she’s out back hanging laundry
a slight breeze cooling
her tanned skin
methodically rehearsing in her mind
precisely what will go down
come this time tomorrow





august two thousand twenty-one
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

unboxing the morning


it’s impossible to own the night
but tomorrow
is another story
standing there in the peripheral
as if to say
you are not yourself
your current state of mind
disbelieving
that the stars in your future
can ever be washed away
that the man in the box
is someone you’ve never known





august two thousand twenty-one
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

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