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poetry by j matthew waters

Archive for the category “Poetry”

working on a masterpiece


it wasn’t long ago I was certain
I wasn’t long for this world
and I remember asking myself
is this all there is to life
a series of interconnected dots
sometimes beautifully displayed
other times awfully disjointed
in the end leaving you dumbfounded
exactly how it was you managed
to get from point A to point B

how many times have I told myself
I’m not the same person I was
ten years ago
and today I ask the very same question
knowing full well the future
is simply an elaborate idea
and the past is nothing but
an unfinished painting
that consistently needs retouching




june two thousand nineteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

fruit of the vine


your imagination started
long before creation
inspired by compositions
streaming through space

emerging from the dark
you selectively choose
what comes naturally
like the ripest apples
hanging on the vine





june two thousand nineteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

breaking away


I try not to overthink it
this place where I’ll be born
whether made simply
or woven intricately
it matters not to the world

from what I understand
others are born in knot holes
or shallow depressions in the sand
kept warm by nature
and a mother’s instincts

I doubt I shall ever remember
that from which I came
crowded and loud and loitering
most of us focused on vying
to be first to break free





june two thousand nineteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

strangers passing by


there were four of them
marching down the sidewalk
a band of brothers and sisters
as if on a mission from god

it was quitting time and I was
getting into my car as they
were swiftly approaching

to get a closer look
I used my rear view mirror
and then directly outside my window
as they passed by excitedly

they were talking to one another
laughing and smiling and seemingly
unconcerned about privacy

though I somehow understood
every single word they said
their demeanor and inclinations
told me they must be aliens

and before they made it to the corner
their aura pixelated and dissipated
like a mysterious fog quickly lifting





june two thousand nineteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

stranger in a foreign land


I’ve lost my way or so it seems
streets and faces anything but familiar
I fear I may have awakened from
another man’s dream
transplanted if you may
and tasked to piece together a past
found in this place and time

I did not ask for this life
but neither do I recall the former
where people knew my name
and I learned to grow old reluctantly

but now I find myself young again
sensing purpose in my gait
as I continue to weave
my way through this
city of diversity
beginning to believe
there is purpose yet to be found





june two thousand nineteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

temporaneous


and so I stayed home and polished the rock
until it shined like never before

birds of the air and small animals made of clay
watched with curious eyes as I
placed the gem at the base of the garden stream

before too long the elements took its toll
on the once shiniest rock on the planet
and gradually one by one
birds of the air and small animals made of clay
lost interest in my efforts
eventually carrying on with their lives





june two thousand nineteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

the art of letter writing


we are we are
like we’ve never been before
either a stone’s throw
away from yesterday
or light years ahead of our time

pardon me missus postman
but won’t you send
a card for me
all the way to my haiku friend
biding his time in tokyo

we are we are
continuously inventing
like a poem lost in the clouds
a drone or airmail stamp away
from landing atop your lap





may two thousand nineteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

theory of a black hole


birth is like a microscopic bang
transmitting near-silent primal waves
quickly creating its very own tiny galaxy

struggles elapse in the background
ongoing and inaudible to the human mind
unmistakable to the almighty creator

to what degree the energy advances
is an invaluable period of time
[no matter the linear length]
from the very start to infinitesimal finish





may two thousand nineteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

twenty-one questions


what wouldn’t I give to have her
standing beside me as equals
memorialized in photography
hand in hand and slightly smiling
leaving the onlooker wondering

people believe what they want to
be they of royal blood or privileged
commingling among the masses
like commoners on market square
as if no hierarchy or caste system exists

by invitation only or by chance anyone
may find us having tea in the rose garden
passing along taffy and king trumpets
and half-heartedly laughing
answering any and all questions





may two thousand nineteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

keep america beautiful


I’ve not kept pace with current
events or the latest trends
their importance taking a back seat
to larger issues begging explanation
such as the meteoric rise of trigger happy maniacs
unleashing a wave of unforgiving tipping points
turning my little corner of the world
into something other than beautiful





may two thousand nineteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

rearranging the past


I spent most of the morning
digging up memories from the garden
separating and transplanting
and finding just the right spot
for their next resting place

some were more difficult than others
each an exercise of elimination
both in body and in mind
rest assured I’ll be at ease
once the next keeper takes over





may two thousand nineteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

aerial conversations


I forgive and forget
it’s easy to do
or so the birds of the sky
tell me so

they speak to me often
believing I’m not listening
but I fool them
and take everything in

there’s nothing to forgive
ergo nothing to forget
I keep telling myself
like a man in a trance

when I’m alone
the birds of the sky
keep me company
they think I don’t notice
but I most certainly do

as time passes
they learn to trust and believe
feeding from my hand
as I stand like a statue in the wind
my eyes fixed
above the setting sun

they speak about life
and speak about death
but when I ask what will come next
their chatting becomes silence
and I am left to imagine
all on my own





may two thousand nineteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

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