jdubqca

poetry by j matthew waters

09 Jan 2019
4 Comments

so far away from the sea


zero to twenty
seemingly a lifetime
long ago microfilmed
now locked away
in a seashell vault

footprints on reflective beach
washed away ages ago
moon phase
after moon phase
erasing whatever proof
there may have been

out in the deep blue sea
young sailors
become old men in a single season
long off course
and desperately sober
stuffing farewell messages
inside empty beer bottles




january two thousand nineteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Poetry and tagged , , ,
08 Jan 2019
2 Comments

over the course of time


one day the wind blew the sun away
and suddenly
there was no more living in the shadows

you can’t catch the wind with your hands
but you can always catch your breath

nobody expected a sandstorm
in the middle of winter
but then again we live in interesting times

of course the sun never really went away
she was merely waiting in the wings

as for the bitter arctic winds
they’re bound and determined to return again




january two thousand nineteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Poetry
07 Jan 2019
15 Comments

one fresh lemon and frozen peas


carrots & celery & radishes
those are the easy ones to remember

instead of making a list
I try to recall what’s in the fruit basket
lazy susan and freezer

if only I didn’t have to stop at the pharmacy
everyone hates me there
plus they have my number and long memories

I rarely go down the middle aisles
afraid I may never come out
instead stick to the edges
where I can see real people
peddling real ideas

I tell my text-by-psychiatrist
that I’m not a druggie and never was
but I do like to get high
in the strangest possible ways
and most conspicuous places

she tells me to go on but I don’t
believing she’s really not a she
but rather an under-age sex-bot created
by four freshmen software engineers
at iowa state university

I sort of come back down to earth
when the bell rings and they ask me
if I found everything all right
leaving me scratching my head
and fumbling for my car keys




january two thousand nineteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Poetry and tagged , ,
06 Jan 2019
5 Comments

a song for the dead


I keep telling myself I’m not afraid
repeating the phrase as if it’s my mantra
each letter embossed on my skin
images of hearts etched in my mind

I tell myself I’m no longer afraid
to fall asleep in the dead of night
grateful to have found my voice
relieved knowing I finally have a song




january two thousand nineteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Micropoetry, Poetry and tagged , ,
05 Jan 2019
5 Comments

simply by closing your eyes


listen and the words will follow
though they may not be the ones
you want to hear

if you practice patience you will
learn to rearrange them
turning lies into truths
and hatred into understanding

on the banks of fortuity
you may be able to slow things down
simply by closing your eyes
and making good use of your breath

and if you’re willing to travel
further on down the stream
letting yourself go
allowing otherworldy sounds
to become your rhythm
the gods that be may take notice
making an exception to the rule
by granting you a bird’s eye view




january two thousand nineteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Birds, Poetry and tagged ,
04 Jan 2019
6 Comments

the inevitable flow of life


they enter this world as children
of the same spirit
learning the laws of the land
and the laws of nature
exploring causality and karma
testing the limits of physicality
touching that which cannot be felt

they’ve been known to walk on water
and fly like the birds of the sky
but in reality they are simply children
born of the same spirit
free to define themselves here on earth
living to learn and learning to die
just like you and me




january two thousand nineteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Nature, Poetry and tagged , ,
03 Jan 2019
2 Comments

january thaw


winter winds unusually warm
bringing back birds I’ve not seen
in what seems like ages
suddenly returning in waves

I’ve been flying and foraging
for nearly a fortnight now
blending in with a family of
black-capped chickadees

I almost forgot what is was like
to be amongst a family
of five or fifty or five hundred
coexisting effortlessly




january two thousand nineteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Birds, Poetry and tagged , ,
02 Jan 2019

the law of wavelength


listen to the vibrations within
a part of your living self
faintly beating since conception
growing stronger incrementally
from fetus to eventual live birth

they’ve always been there
[these beautiful vibrations]
a window to the non-physical world
constantly tapping your shoulder
revealing mysteries while you sleep

though you may suppress them
through disregard and self-destruction
they can never be destroyed
always remaining in waiting
like a dispirited guardian angel




january two thousand nineteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Poetry and tagged , , | Leave a comment
01 Jan 2019
7 Comments

Catharsis


Or so I’ve been told there is drama
in the afterlife
but I am quick in begging to differ
having already experienced
a time or two the act of purgation

You see I’ve long since cried
my last tear
long before my last breath
experiencing or better yet
coming to terms with stepping
through to the other side

I am like a leaf discovered
by a child after a long long winter
pressed and preserved
in psalm one seventeen
soon thereafter stitched together
and placed back on the vine

I’ve missed you more
than you will ever know
but I will always remind you
[in my own little way]
that I never really did leave
I simply ridded myself of everything
that never truly belonged to me



january two thousand nineteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Poetry and tagged , ,
31 Dec 2018
2 Comments

creation in waiting


bored by an ancient past
afraid of what lies ahead
I sit in front of metal easel
white canvas but a mirror
sable paint brush in hand

painting myself in and out
of an imperfect circle
how many times must I try
turning apple into orange
or barren earth into sky

I keep telling myself
a masterpiece is awaiting
one without a beginning or end
brimming with suspension
like a virtuoso escape artist




december two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Poetry and tagged , ,
30 Dec 2018
4 Comments

the cure


you spend the day in suspension
hanging upside down in dark cave
high frequency white noise
keeping you breathing freely
your thoughts increasingly lucid

bandages wrap your beating heart
covering unresolved feelings
wounded by your own compassion
for someone in your distant past

when it’s time to let yourself go
breaking free from the ceiling
empathy is allowed to sink in
reconnecting with a virtual bond
able to absorb your true identity




december two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Poetry and tagged , ,
29 Dec 2018
8 Comments

the further away it seems


my worst fears
but a window to the world
exposing my hopes and dreams
as if they don’t belong to me

elbows on window sill
eyes blinking shut
palms supporting chin
mind delving deeper in thought

lonesome mockingbird
outside looking in
echoing a song I’ve yet to begin

some say I’m on my way
I say I’m already there
arms stretched out
and welcoming a light
that naturally never ends




december two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Dreams, Poetry and tagged ,
28 Dec 2018
6 Comments

Recklessness

In memory of Marshall T. Schick (1962-1990)

The laughter and sounds of two cycle engines
are what I remember most. Even in summer
you played with the Kawasaki, saucer and rope.

On frozen Duck Creek five bodies
would stack upon a radio flyer as your laughter
ricocheted off the elms that lined its banks.
As you shifted gears and roared, gaining speed,
your maneuvers would force bodies to peel
off the stack, until at last only one survived.

Pleasures of others gave you the most reward,
I remember. And when I learned that your tire did not
obey at three a.m., I could only think you are not alone.





december two thousand eighteen
(originally penned circa 1990)
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Poetry and tagged , ,
27 Dec 2018
2 Comments

the last migration


nobody talks about birds
growing older
but here we are
sitting on park benches
bread crumbs in our hands

this sitting down is for birds
I say out loud
and you naturally agree
without speaking a word

it’s a warm winter’s day
and our shadows
are barely visible on the
black asphalt
like skinny icicles hanging
ever slowly changing




december two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Animals, Birds, Poetry and tagged , , ,
26 Dec 2018
4 Comments

ghost town babylon


this town has no name
but somehow keeps growing
one tiny skyscraper at a time

word has it
this town is quickly resurfacing
coming back to life
after its decimation
many centuries before spaghetti westerns

people keep arriving here
in waves and droves
like magnets with no
particular place to go
kicking up dirt and looking
to settle old scores

they say a horse
can take you only so far
into the desert
but this town appears to be
disproving that notion

are the flowers truly
blossoming again
leading up to the outer edges of town
or are they simply allegorically illusory
like a mirage of tiny skyscrapers




december two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Poetry and tagged , ,
25 Dec 2018
2 Comments

learning not to lament casually


years of traveling
studying centuries past
retracing pages and journals
and footnotes of verse and meter
oh how I struggled
to find a voice

refusing to borrow or steal
never would I dare
ask permission to copy
voices from legends
of those gracing our presence
through fact or fiction

before it was too late
I came to understand
how my own voice was allowed
to coexist on a higher plane
expressing our eventual defeat
with dignity and beauty




december two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Poetry and tagged , ,

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