jdubqca

poetry by j matthew waters

14 Dec 2016
5 Comments

to catch a glimpse of harmony


I may not know
exactly who I am
but like the bluebird
in your heart
I’ve a good idea
who I am not

people feel compelled
to define you
without a true source
saying you are this
or you are that
adding to the confusion

all I’m saying is we
should be friends
whether you be as near
as kalamazoo
or as far away
as timbuktu

if I owned the night
I would gladly
hand it over
along with all the lights
that shine
forever in the sky



december two thousand sixteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Nature, Poetry and tagged , , ,
11 Dec 2016
8 Comments

peace and serenity reprised


how is it you can turn nothing into
something in a matter of seconds

you reach up and snatch some fresh air
(without ever going outside)
and when you open your clenched fist
the place smells like lavender and lemon

it was you who opened your heart
to peace and serenity
recently pardoned by the sitting president
released into your custody after serving
thousands of years of a life sentence

there’s so much more I need to learn
you remember eagerly telling them
now let’s roll up our sleeves and figure out
exactly who needs us most



december two thousand sixteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Poetry and tagged , , , ,
10 Dec 2016
3 Comments

before the honeymoon


the war ended the day
before the winter solstice
and on the next day
on sunday morning
the newspaper arrived
without fanfare

the blizzard never came
as predicted
and the parade downtown
well
it was canceled

a few of us decided
to meet at a tavern
in the old town district
sampling for the very first time
local craft beers
and delicata squash

when the sun went down
we went our separate ways
like we had always done



december two thousand sixteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Poetry, War Poems and tagged , , , , ,
09 Dec 2016
11 Comments

places buried in the past


I did not know her
but I was compelled
to find her final resting place

it was a bright but cold december day
but I kept warm in the car
driving mindlessly past corn fields
mile after mile after mile
stripped clean yet ruggedly barren

the interstate traffic was heavy
and I wondered how many seekers
if any
had set off on a journey
to find her final resting place

google maps told me how to get there
but I only had to read the directions once

and when I got there
it was as if I had been there all along



december two thousand sixteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Poetry and tagged , , , ,
06 Dec 2016
9 Comments

santa’s little blue bird


I witnessed first hand
how santa claus hijacked
a short bus half-filled with
excited yet misinformed misfits

you could see him barreling
down route 13
allegedly screaming out a list of names
bouncing on the driver’s seat
failing to get the little blue bird
off the ground



december two thousand sixteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Micropoetry, Poetry and tagged , , , , ,
05 Dec 2016
11 Comments

like a canary in a cage


anyone can write the monday blues
how the fog maybe lifts by noon
smartphones unable to upgrade
all on their own

the list grows longer whether it’s
monday or not
liberty or death is
(a matter of) life and breath
invisible wounds like words
perhaps self-inflicted or
suspiciously accidental

there is an artist who really
knows for sure
but they aren’t playing in any
kind of rhythm and blues band

oh no they ain’t singing
like a canary in a cage
dreaming of the sky




december two thousand sixteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Birds, Poetry and tagged , , , ,
04 Dec 2016
4 Comments

keeping watch on cold nights


individual victories are few
for those unheard voices
having restricted choices
and few precious resources

you know I don’t have to be here
he reassured himself
keeping warm from layered clothing
mentally digging in for the night

mercenaries from the past
march alongside enemies of the state
chanting slogans in ancient languages
only few understand



december two thousand sixteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in History, Poetry and tagged , , , , ,
03 Dec 2016
6 Comments

rapid eye movement


trees speak in your sleep
like those three dogs
chained up down the street
scratching at the aluminum fence
and digging holes in
all the wrong places

trees speak in your sleep
using the wind and
birds and insects as carriers
scratching out memos
and pontificating about the evils
of the new world order

trees speak in your sleep
sharing secrets from the shire
hosting a murder of crows
gathering above the creek
whispering incessantly
fearing you may awaken



december two thousand sixteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Dreams, Nature, Poetry and tagged , , ,
02 Dec 2016
6 Comments

she comes from within


chain smoking and
having pie for lunch
my lovely tour guide
never stops talking

there are others
vying for her attention
her knowledge of the land
and the lore it contains

the fruit of the vine
grows year ‘round here
the mountainous region
much older than the hills

the bakery at the next stop
sells cherry pie slices
for 500 drachmas
I place my order for two

motivation can be instilled
she would often say
but true inspiration
she must come from within



december two thousand sixteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Poetry and tagged , , ,
30 Nov 2016
2 Comments

peeking around the next corner


it seems like everyone is hell bent on
picking a fight
but by everyone I don’t mean you or me

sometimes I want you to make me think
and other times I don’t

I’m not sure which is worse
pretending the white elephant
isn’t actually pink
or acknowledging all is fair
in lust and taxation

I didn’t come here looking
for a fight
and neither did you
so I keep on convincing myself
that’s what keeps us separated
from whatever it is
that’s hurting



november two thousand sixteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Poetry and tagged , , ,
28 Nov 2016

who’s paying for these anyway


he never understood there are consequences
for his actions
especially as a child

had the good doctor never mentioned it
the concept would have remained
alien to his thinking man’s brain

I always thought we live in a society
where we need evidence for such claims
he remembered telling her
uncrossing his legs and looking away

she never much cared for his constant
avoidance at eye contact
but it was usually worth the wait
once he finally decided to come back around

nothing seems to bother me anymore
since mother passed (he went on to say)

I don’t know about you but that isn’t working
for me



november two thousand sixteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Poetry and tagged , , , | Leave a comment
27 Nov 2016
6 Comments

the rain falls perfectly in late november


the rain falls perfectly in late november
neither hard nor soft
simply there and bringing awareness
to practically everything
many questioning their lives behind
closed doors and shuttered windows
on the laziest of sunday afternoons

the rain falls perfectly in late november
either reminding you of a
specific place in time you
wished remained suspended
or making you forget altogether
recent distractions repeatedly tugging
at the fabric slowly covering your eyes



november two thousand sixteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Poetry and tagged , , , ,
26 Nov 2016
7 Comments

déjà vu and me


I am tired but I wake up anyway

I don’t dare dream of showering for fear
that I may never get out

yesterday I had hypothermia
at least that’s what I thought
but every time I took my temperature
it said I had a fever

I don’t play the french lottery
but for some reason
I keep checking the numbers

I used to dream of blackbirds
screaming at the sunrise
but now all I get are sunsets
exploding exactly like last night



november two thousand sixteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Dreams, Poetry and tagged , , ,
25 Nov 2016

tutoring on the southside


identities defined by society
broadcasted on media
country folks uninterested
understanding why children
struggle with reading or arithmetic

I was sitting in their house
playing mario brothers
and so many people
walked on by

who’s your white friend
someone asked my girlfriend
and I pretended not to hear
even though there was nothing
wrong with my spanglish

you know I told her
I’d never been on this side of
nineteenth street before
but I feel just as safe here
as I do anywhere else



november two thousand sixteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in In the City, Poetry and tagged , , | Leave a comment
23 Nov 2016
4 Comments

Getting his motor going


Billy got a gun
it’s been something he’s been
muttering about for years

He didn’t know what to do with it
once he got it
so he stashed it somewhere
(in the house)
and returned to his nondescript life

Billy got a gun
because he didn’t feel safe
but knowing he had one now
stashed somewhere in the house
made him feel like he could do anything
he set his motoring mind to



november two thousand sixteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Poetry and tagged , , , ,
22 Nov 2016
6 Comments

god is in the wine (and the wire)


the light above me starts
humming and pulsating
distractedly
and it was then I realized
some higher power was communicating to me
telling me how there is so much more
to learn about myself

down below in the basement
inside the fuse box
hot wires pass over neutral ones
arcing into obscurity
sending cross currents
to the nearest known light



november two thousand sixteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Dogma, Poetry and tagged , , , ,

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