jdubqca

poetry by j matthew waters

Archive for the category “Micropoetry”

vulnerable


when will they figure out
nobody really lives here
that the present
is just an amalgamation of coming events
reshaped by an ever-changing past
where pyramids were built
by left-leaning mexicans
and futuristic border walls
by alt-right aliens




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

january sixth


I started thinking
about why I was so angry
the other day
of course why wouldn’t I
on this very day
but now that the latest fire
has been stomped upon
[yet continues to fester]
I’ve elected
to start thinking
about the power of love
instead


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

short summer nights


three hummingbird feeders
hang from the rafters
inside the old gazebo
located in the back far corner
of the property
one hundred some steps
from the sliding glass door
refilled every daybreak
by the old man
the homemade nectar
prepared the night before
by the missus in the kitchen





december two thousand twenty
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

mind over body spirit


there’s a ghost in every machine
and the smarter the machine becomes
the more dangerous the ghost

december two thousand twenty
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

ready. set. go.


it’s a quarter past seven
anything is game now
lights flipping on & off
candles waiting in the wings

juices beginning to flow
it’s a quarter past seven
anything is game now
soft music playing louder

waning luna lost in space
energy levels rise & fall
it’s a quarter past seven
anything is game now




december two thousand twenty
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Early dinner rush


On the southside of Gianna’s Italian Beef
there grows a young Hackberry
a story & a half tall
barenaked this early December
fifty or eighty Black-Capped Chickadees
voluntarily filling in
all her empty spaces
fervently chattering at four forty-five pm




december two thousand twenty
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

motionless & wrapped in a shawl


not sure if we’re picking up the pieces
or simply putting them
back together
like some subliminal jigsaw puzzle
showcasing rose petals on a hardwood floor
a shadowy figure in the corner rocker
bent but not broken
a filtered sun unable to expose
any kind of emotion
let alone a mind suspended in time




november two thousand twenty
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

stuck in the middle


jimmy dugan said it best
about not crying
during a specific activity

I could have used that advice
back when I was a little leaguer
back when real life was
easily distinguishable
from this present day reality




november two thousand twenty
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

I am the boy god


I tried writing the end of this story
about a boy & his bird
bound together by a freak
accident his dead mother
would never forget
but in doing so was interrupted
distracted by a murder of crows
telegraphing their signals
mimicking words like secrecy
and pure fiction
a reminder those series of events
long ago were swept away by a
twisting turning wind
mystically created by the two of them




november two thousand twenty
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

not a cloud in the sky


we’re neither buyers nor sellers
so don’t bother asking
we’re holding on to what we have
[at least for the time being]
praying at sunrise & at sunset
for the wind to bring in the rain
for the blues to be blown away




november two thousand twenty
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

rock & roll fatigue


my watch buzzes at 7 pm
a yoga time reminder
I quickly dismiss it
a subtle reflex
the song on the google thing
making me think about
the handgun
I hid in the basement
years ago

it takes two efforts
to make the damn thing
operational
the old song segues
into a new one
I find myself singing along
[inside my head]
purposely forgetting
the hidden key upstairs




november two thousand twenty
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

fishing under the influence


it’s sunday somewhere
so this week I’m starting early
making my own bloody mary mix
on a late saturday night
secret ingredient bone broth

for some reason I’m thinking
the trout must be biting at prairie park
and though it’s eight hours ‘til sunrise
it’s only an eighteen minute drive
to my favorite fishing hole




november two thousand twenty
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

hunting down the dragonfly


in every object resides a memory
most going unnoticed forever
and a few more days
either accidentally misplaced
or stashed away on purpose

a time will come when one of them
will reappear of out nowhere
and suddenly you are entranced
incapable of movement or sound
transported by the dragonfly




november two thousand twenty
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

like a child does


imagine the energy
deathbed newly made
how do you capture it
the liveliness that lingers
fading like a siren
single bullet inside soldier
one single voice sounding like three
saying breathe baby breathe




november two thousand twenty
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

theory of the birds


all the birds took a break for a day
boycotting the streams & the baths
downtown sidewalks & window ledges
unmistakably absent from the airwaves
instead quietly tucked away for some
twenty-four hours
collectively testing the theory that these
so-called humans
have ceased paying attention




october two thousand twenty
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Steps to the Acropolis


And so I have passed on
without fanfare
and I was thinking to myself
the best days of my life

It was Mother’s Day
when I arrived to Athens
my adopted Motherland
learning the streets
by way of feet for eleven days
convincing myself before I go
this is where I’ll always be




october two thousand twenty
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

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