jdubqca

poetry by j matthew waters

Archive for the category “Nature”

unchanging are the winds


besides clouds & butterflies
and pollination & sweet summer smells
there’s something else in the air
or so the restless community tells me

the winds come & go at their leisure
bringing with them unpredictability
though what’s in the air remains
as if it were yesterday all over again




july two thousand twenty
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

chasing blue emperors


now that the solstice has come & gone
seems like I’m picking up clearer frequencies
it’s not always easy to trap them in a box
& oftentimes you have to let some go
hoping they’ll return another day




june two thousand twenty
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

commonality


I seem to keep missing you
one turn after the next
all the while telling myself I’m not
looking for anything in particular

it is summer but you know that
the solstice a mere hours away
I’ve long since ventured out
chasing shadows on the open road

it’s true the earth keeps spinning
unchanged yet ever-changing
dividing & distancing & reuniting
common people like you & me




june two thousand twenty
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

not a cloud in the sky


how many adjectives for the sky
do you keep in your pocket
long written down & folded into
an origami passport
open & closed with your eyes shut so many times
you wonder would it be best
to put them down in braille rather than words
or perhaps translated into countless languages
so when any moment good or bad
spontaneously presents itself
there’s not a chance in hell you will fail




june two thousand twenty
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

the grand illusion


I reach to touch a leaf
just as it separates from the tree
our association drifting apart
before it even begins

what seems like millions
upon millions accumulating
is nothing but a conceptual pile
looking to be jumped upon

the eventual scattering
and complete disappearance
is nothing but a grand illusion
graciously repeating




june two thousand twenty
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

nyctinasty [or where the poppy fields burn]


we start & we stop & we start again
I mean everyone needs to rest & refuel
before getting back in on the action

it seems like everyone’s wearing masks
either protecting themselves or others
but perhaps for other reasons entirely
big brother capturing the action on video
sometimes from as far away as 5oo miles

meanwhile beyond the cities poppy fields
live & die year after year after year
folding themselves in on cool summer nights
only to reopen come the morning light




june two thousand twenty
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

low hanging fruit


how does a fly get so fat before the solstice
what could he be feasting on
and how in the world
did he make his way inside the house

I had my chance a couple of times
to either stun him or catch him outright
casting him back out to the great wide open
but I decided the better of it
and went about my own business

now that I think about it
I wonder how many spiders are living
comfortably within my abode
knowing full well the dullest of houseflies
are the lowest hanging fruit there is




may two thousand twenty
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

one million pound piñata


seventy-seven bush elephants
masquerading as one cumulus cloud
slowly trek across the desert sky
bulging like a waxing gibbous

hired archer standing atop zeppelin
back bending backwards
held in place by ropes & pulleys
aiming to deflate the entire herd




may two thousand twenty
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Baby in the window


for Aubrey Jean

They are song sparrows
nesting inside a popcorn tin
hanging beneath the eaves
vessel rocking from side to side
[from the constant coming & going]
like a boat tied to the dock
continuously in motion
but unable to sail away

From inside the conservatory
a baby is fixed at the scene
a toddler to be exact
an unsteady walker without ankles
pointing at the popcorn tin
[at the constant coming & going]
unaware they are singers
incoherently repeating baby




april two thousand twenty
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

twenty stories tall


some hypothetical trees are hard to fall
madmen with chainsaws & ropes & pulleys
make calculations and smoke cigarettes
from sunup to sundown they undertake
this nearly impossible task

this one must be made of steel
one of them says
the rest nodding in agreement
scratching their heads and looking skywards

it’s only a matter of time another says
and they bow their heads in silence
grasping the gravity of their predicament




march two thousand twenty
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

gregarious like the locust


why am I stuck here
without an internet connection

flipping through imaginary channels
that once calmed my nerves

but now all that I have is fear

that instinctive natural state
changing me into something I’m not
making me want to bust out onto the scene

like when the short-horned grasshopper
gregariously morphs into the locust

taking over entire fields
systematically moving onto the next

devouring and decimating everything
in its inexhaustible path

their offspring released within the swarm
waxing their wings and singing
alleluia be not afraid




march two thousand twenty
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

better run thru the jungle


february is on my mind
but she’s nowhere in sight
pretend morning fog
whispers in my ear
you’ve got no place to go

so I curse the winds
stuff suffocating thoughts
inside my pockets
telling myself
one day I’ll see the light

I keep waking up
in the middle of the night
trees burning brightly
firefighters fighting
for a clear path out




january two thousand twenty
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

the river’s many voices


let us pretend we are starting from scratch
that the sun has yet to reveal its brilliancy
rising above the ageless sea on a cloudless morning
    as if the world itself is being reborn
    free from the exploitation of the past

sudden happiness appears out of thin air
echoing through the valley of the mountains
promising change after years of inner turmoil
    grey thoughts giving way to new ideas
    like old songs playing in a new light

I often wonder about those inevitable days
will it be like floating peacefully down the river
its many voices gradually turning into one
    plainly speaking to me for the first time
    the drawbridge opening on command




january two thousand twenty
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

what comes around


days getting longer
mid-morning colder than the day before
pedestrians walking briskly
hands stuffed inside pockets
inaudible words escaping into the air

breathe baby breathe
there’s never been a better time to be alive
everyone knows it can’t be
this cold for that much longer
here take my electric flannel blanket

it’s true we both know
the rains will again return like clockwork
washing away what remains
recalling strange familiarity
perhaps starting the final fateful season




january two thousand twenty
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

jack daniels and candlesticks


cancellations and closings
scrolling ad nauseum
alphabetically directly below
animated weather map

the snow never came
like they said it would
though the freezing rain
arrived unexpectedly
sleeting sideways and relentlessly
coating every single wire and branch
from here until next tuesday
putting the city and her
satellites out of commission

there’ll be no welfare checks
not tonight or tomorrow or
maybe ever again
the powers that be giving way
to unapologetic anarchy
all because of a little weather




january two thousand twenty
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

where angels still sing


there is magic in the air
electrical and elusive
like a razor thin damsel’s wing

all is quiet in the inner mind
perfect conditions
to welcome and learn the
universal language of appreciation

what can’t be found here
that doesn’t exist above or beyond
whether beneath the frost
or high above the treetops
where angels still sing




december two thousand nineteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

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