jdubqca

poetry by j matthew waters

Archive for the category “Micropoetry”

without love I won’t survive


it’s not easy to survive without love
someone to touch
if only for a moment in time
attempting to describe
that which can never be
like a sunset in wintertime
that was meant for only you and me




june two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

inside map rooms


all things are eventual
if not downright equal
why not let them play out as they may
instead of contemplating
various scenarios inside map rooms
where alternative endings
are inherently undesirable




may two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

old records off the shelf


so many songs about saturday night
up and down the radio dial
forever cast into eternity
thanks to artistry and antigravity

and there you are behind the curtain
hairbrush in your hand
belting out your favorite songs
younger siblings doubting your sanity




may 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

excommunicado


sometimes I’m a little late to the party
and sometimes I forget to show up at all
either way there is constant commingling
going on between this world and the next

come sunrise strangers begin to stir
chatting amongst themselves in the parlor
recounting the previous night’s events
and taking bets on my reappearance




may two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all right reserved

when they take me down


I pretend it’s still April
on account of the pouring rain
tamping down my inner thoughts
thinking of huddling in the dark

when they take me down
I imagine I’ll be fighting all the way
calling on gods for yet another chance
should the world forget my name




may two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all right reserved

while on the way to school


old blue jeans tired and tattered
stitched and patched and faded
fit perfectly like kindergarten friends
skipping hand in hand for miles on end
making up new words that rhyme with
biscuit and nugget and peanut and butter

she’s swinging a small bag back and forth
something for show and tells she says
refusing to let me in on her little secret
so I imagine it’s a miniature scarecrow
stitched and patched and faded
tattered like a pair of old blue jeans




april two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all right reserved

harden not your heart


weep not my love
for there is hope in isolation
and beauty in sorrow

though showers may fall
a window remains open
welcoming a warm breeze
clearing your uncertainty
and soothing your fears

past the horizon
and high above the clouds
your light is burning
dying to be seen




april two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

an evening in late april


unfinished tabletop
wishbone resting on windowsill
dishes in the sink

roses abloom on the vine
outside kitchen window
nature’s fragrance floating

scattered thoughts
pieced together like a dream
disguised as poetry




april two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

missing in action


looking down from the ninth floor
there was nowhere to go but up

michael may have been missing
but I knew he was within earshot

though I was tiring of the routine
I had no intention of checking out
instead reestablished my footing
attempting to regain communication
with anyone who may or
may not have wings




april two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

santa ana winds


there is desperation in the wind
causing fires to spread
and lonely thoughts to cave in
good lord handing out hail marys
like there is no tomorrow

it’s 4:30 in the morning
and you tell yourself the sun
may never rise again
and somehow you forgive yourself
finally resigned to fall asleep




april two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

early afternoon memoirs


I made pekoe for two
in my red porcelain teapot
but it was just me and my thoughts
retiring to the sunroom
bird songs in the background
streams of consciousness meandering
inside sublime daydreams
mixing fantasy with memories
and all that was meant to be





february two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Post Navigation

%d bloggers like this: