I don’t feel tired at all
(oh no not at all)
I’m feeling like a breaking wave
rushing toward ocean’s shoreline
angels singing by my side
clouds full of rain following above
waiting patiently for me to make landfall
destined to become nothing but a puddle
dying to be loved by the sun itself
june two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
stardust in the exosphere
older than the moon
purveyor of time
mysteriously coexisting
and quietly contributing
to the evolution of life
wayward meteors
breach the surface
children of the earth
pointing and marveling
saying look there goes
another shooting star
oh there she goes again
bringing with her
more ancient stardust
making it fall like rain
nourishing the very ground
we so heavily trod upon
june two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
he instinctively wants to feed her
but has no idea where to begin
unable to comprehend
if he should start with the seed
or pick the fruit from the vine
she understands him much better
than he knows himself
but does not say a word
instead focuses on cleansing
his shoreline by bringing
wave upon wave upon wave
she nourishes him subconsciously
sublimely feeding him music
soothingly repeating his name
weaving wildflowers in his mane
he dreams of cherry tomatoes
and purple grapes
widening his mouth like a starved fledgling
having no idea one day
he will be soaring high by her side
june two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
skipping rocks in space
the flatter the better so they say
skimming along invisible waves
making wishes as they fade
light years away
where they finally wind up
nobody really knows
(except the creator)
perhaps as a collective of
gold-colored coins
deposited into a simple pot
strategically placed
at the end of an endless rainbow
june two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
there were so many things to be said
but instead I lay silent
knowing that spring was here
that it could be the last
she loved wearing summer dresses
falling just below the knee
floral in pattern and ever so light
and when the sun hit just right
cast me back into one of her spells
by the time autumn arrives
her god-given powers faded southward
rendering me to my own devices
leaving me to decide for myself
how to survive another winter
june two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
sunrises come and go
climbing and dropping like clockwork
turning pale skin to red
and correcting failing vision
inside you is this acumen
as powerful as the midday sun
dying to expose itself
for all the world to see
heartbeats ebb and flow
like half moon across midnight green
at mercy with the tides
and hoping not to die
june two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
out of thin air shallow breaths are born
giving life where there was once none
providing comfort to those who grieve
to those whose lives are in desperate
need of meaningful nurturing
burial grounds of once mighty empires
have long expired and recycled into
fields of grasses and wildflowers
articulated masterpieces of complexion
breathing quietly and free from harm
may two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all right reserved
I wanted to share the early morning moon
but she was downright dead set against it
peeking and booing behind fog-like clouds
coming and going as swiftly as my footsteps
these early morning walks remind me
of my paperboy days some forty-five years ago
days seemingly much clearer in my mind
than those last week or month or half a score
back then I had no idea of things like hibiscus tea
or heart-shaped flowers colored in pink or white
but I was certain one day I would discover
there must be more to life than elegant frivolity
may two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all right reserved
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
time zones and seasonal patterns
have forced my hand to reassess my
opinion of life as we know it
images in my mind continually evolve
from tulip to azalea to lemon tree
those hummingbirds feasting on
oswego tea blossoms were once
damselflies during the dinosaur days
moon chases sun like dog after tail
eventually tiring into submission
clashes in the past reconstruct the future
stirring and remixing and reimagining
painting skies like never before seen
april two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
waning crescent moves ever closer
to the morning light
unnoticed by most and understood by few
much like how autumn closes in
chasing away lovely Indian summer days
leaving you questioning how on earth
to survive the inevitable
pine trees shake and sway
sometimes forgotten like afterthoughts
standing tall and welcoming many
taking the brunt of the storm gracefully
buttressing the old farmhouse
natural insulation free for the taking
inside and out fire burns day and night
evident by smokestacks
sending signals to other life forces
both here on earth
and many light years away
april two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
opposition forces positioned themselves
in the most peculiar way
so much so nobody seemed to notice
exactly who they were
or what they were doing
last fall foot soldiers were ordered to plant
thousands of tulip bulbs in the minefields
but not all that went in came back alive
and the ones who did rested uncomfortably
for the rest of their lives
by the time spring solstice arrived
the enemy had mysteriously withdrawn
and all the local children awakened with smiles
welcoming the newly risen sun
proceeding to run cautiously
through her once glorious meadows
april two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
I jotted down some thoughts at 11:15
central daylight time
vernal equinox restarting the clock
snowflakes flat as silver dollar pancakes
hitting concrete slightly warmer than freezing
disappearing like some magic trick
trapped behind this rectangular window
I gaze past rooftops at a sun that isn’t there
daydreaming of warmer days
clouds casting shadows over my
sixth house of logistics
meanwhile everything in front of me
is moving backwards
pedestrians wrapped in wool clothing
pigeons dressed in mock turtlenecks
fedex trucks double parked and idling
my incoherent thoughts
scrambling to recreate
a winter that never was
march two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
wind chimes hardly whisper
interrupting predawn dreams
like a first passionate kiss
bluebird angels sighing within
wishing to imitate
branches blossoming
the first sign of spring
waning crescent moon calls you
from your slumber
mars and saturn subconsciously
tugging at your comforter
like impatient felines
needing to usher in
all that is welcoming
march two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
one day I awaken to darkness
next night into the light
how many times I’ve been born
depends upon many factors
such as number of hours in a day
or air temperature at ten or
twenty or thirty thousand feet
wind seems to be the great constancy
bringing about change to a troubled planet
mother nature’s secret ingredient
constantly turning inside her earthen pot
creating recycled challenges
and unlocking old doors
no matter how strong the desire
to stay grounded
just remember even on the
calmest days and nights
sailing vessels never truly stand still
march two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
oh my evocative moon
how your passions leave me emotionally spent
leaving me wanting more of what I can’t have
leaving me pretending
underdog contenders slip by the wayside
cosmic currents sweeping them
beneath the carpet
only to be rediscovered when least expected
presented as new darlings of the night sky
lucky stars come and falling stars go
but philosophic metaphors remain in flight
dashing in and out of dreams
like renegade comets bursting at the seams
march two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
jdubqca 