rain pounded relentlessly
throughout the cities
canceling out the most
extraordinary rhythm and blues
racing past sullen streets
and endless alleyways
april two thousand sixteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
sorrowful soul mate
casting nets
from a sparse pine
comes up empty time & again
determined to move on
one tree at a time
the song forever weaves
through solitary twilight
april two thousand sixteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
aliens loved to return here
to feast on information
but mainly to experience
poetic life in the fast lane
april two thousand sixteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
dense fog rolled in
long before the awakening
muting streetlamps
seen as glowing orbs
dotted along lifeless streetscapes
behind the shroud
crows gather atop barren
unseen trees
calling upon a breakthrough light
delivering beacons of hope
december two thousand fifteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
as evening fades like a memory
of a faraway dream
I am reminded of words spoken
barely audible above nightingales
ushering in a rising moon
a promise so to speak
made beneath the warmth
of december clouds
that the spirit of the flame will forever
prevent our love from growing old
november two thousand fifteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
piece of shit chevy
idling choppily blocks away
lone lunatic in driver’s seat
under the influence of the almighty
setting his sights on suicidal destruction
certain to be caught on film
and reconstructed on the nightly news
november two thousand fifteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
Author’s Note: The accompanying instrumental was performed by Jeff Beck from ‘In My Life,’ an album compiled and produced by Sir George Martin in 1988.
it wasn’t my idea to swim downstream
though I was thrown into the fray
one might say
by no choice of my own
my mother creating a vacuum
by pulling me toward her
tricking me into naturally pursuing her
by simply going with the flow
november two thousand fifteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
cicadas alive and loud
sounding off above and below
sunny treetops
sublimely casting wavelengths
across the heavy air
noisily rhythmical to anyone
subconsciously dreaming of
reaching faraway places
august two thousand fifteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
everyday daredevils take to the sky
challenging gravity and defying tragedy
seeking neither fortune nor fame
simply addicted to danger
and that unquenchable desire
to stare death in the face
every single bloody morning
may two thousand fifteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
flip style
box top
magically opens
revealing sixty-four crayolas
fingers and voices counting and
calling each by name
eyes sparkling
cheeks blushing
lips smiling
the youngest and oldest of minds
opening up to new ideas
born on white sheets of paper
may two thousand fifteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
where wildflowers bloom warm winds blow
turning rolling fields into motion pictures
on the brightest and fairest of days
round stones sink into dampened soil
concealed by grasses and barely breathing
undiscoverable come summer or fall
footprints aplenty but none of them human
the unreachable never dies
whether here or furthest place imaginable
may two thousand fifteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
the pump in the field rusted red
miraculously sprung back to life
year after year
children jumping over stalks
and stars
barely out of breath
and smiling
seemingly suspended in motion
dashing through the water
may two thousand fifteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
I thought for sure the anteaters would
beat the cardinals as the game unfolded
but the more intelligent species prevailed
leaving the extant mammal departing
tail between legs and muttering
beneath exhaustive breaths
promising to return same time next year
march two thousand fifteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
little bird bides his time
inside woolen hoodie
left out on the line
for the wind to iron out
by whipping into shape
when the rains arrive
little bird holds on
swaying and cursing
like a long lost sailor
alone at sea
march two thousand fifteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
you’ll find it in the middle of somewhere
surrounded by a fog in a field of woods
discoverable through a natural maze
filled with a variety of wildflowers
walking through the door you swear
you became someone other than yourself
and the moment you sit and open your mind
the shack is filled with a beautiful light
march two thousand fifteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
colder than I could have ever imagined
here I am walking among the gentoo
as if exploring another planet
I came here to die but decided
there was too much to live for
as long as I couldn’t get out of this place
january two thousand fifteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
jdubqca 