it comes out of nowhere
out of the shadows
from the depths of despair
and into the light
mysterious & majestic
formed from a grain of sand
before becoming larger than life
in less than sixty seconds
leaving an indelible mark
on anyone’s memory
who was fortunate enough
to have witnessed
such an occurrence
january two thousand twenty-five
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
She was in charge
until she wasn’t
the tiny tea set purchased
once upon a time
remains on the little table
looking out
at the flower garden
now a frozen display
only the cut-back rose bushes
barely breathing
tiny birds
taking dry baths
inside the ornamental bowl
purchased long ago
on a warm summer day
loading it
all by herself
into the trunk of the car
when nobody was looking
january two thousand twenty-five
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
the moon is a timepiece
its complex mechanisms
working flawlessly & unseen
inside its hollowed out shell
understanding its place in time
simple math is in order
performing certain calculations
such as counting to thirty
its measurements are linear
disguised by repetitious orbits
and shadowing phases
complementing your every day
syncing up with its mystery
may require up to a lifespan
but once the connection is made
time will never be the same
january two thousand twenty-five
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
and both shall row
my love and I
~ anonymous
there is no bridge or ferry
and I have no wings
so I set to task & build
a boat that can carry two
to start a new life
far away on the other side
january two thousand twenty-five
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
Deep inside the forest
where one least expects
to lose their fear
a voice suddenly appears:
‘What do you want most out of life?’
Unsurprised by the unknown
the answer is given immediately:
‘to give comfort & aid to the powerless’’
The voice responds:
‘the river is dry & the people have fled’
Yes of course
they have scattered into the countryside
in search of the next utopia
while I seek refuge within the forest
inside the great silence
january two thousand twenty-five
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
she would be in the kitchen
with her heavy sighs
perhaps building a sandwich
—something would fall to the floor
and her heavy sighs
somehow returned it to the counter
where she was then able
to complete her self-assigned task
with another heavy sigh or two
in the other room
he would be seated in his recliner
without an appetite
eyes inside a book or locked
onto the television screen
—having no means in which to hear
her heavy sighs
or what they could possibly mean
january two thousand twenty-five
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
My brain is only a receiver, in the Universe there is a core from which we obtain knowledge, strength and inspiration. ~ Nikola Tesla
Perhaps you’ve already visited the core
in your most exclusive dream
when the signal was so strong
you had no choice but to be drawn
to the source of everything imaginable
But upon your eventual reawakening
the transmission ceased to exist
and you were left to discover reality
as it presented itself in real time
absorbed into either side of your mind
january two thousand twenty-five
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
the newspaper arrives long before
he descends the stairs
one slow step
at a time
he sits at the kitchen table
rifling to the sports section
locating a table with today’s date in bold
(which he circles with a felt pen)
below it a listing of all the games
including time & television channel
the table gets clipped
(including the header)
placed beside the remote
within arm’s reach from the recliner
all morning long he’ll study the list
making interesting comments
about the matchups
but more importantly
paying particular attention
to today’s date
january two thousand twenty-five
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
The pressure within
knows no bounds
fluctuating over time
as a continual slow climb
of ebbs & flows
forever advancing to the point
where waters converge
submerging into oblivion
january two thousand twenty-five
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
movers & shakers
taking on many forms
social influencers
political scientists
wayfarers or seafarers
down to earth adventurers
some work in labs
deep underground
or outside earth’s atmosphere
dealing with explosive things
things that go boom
morning
noon
or night
things moving
& shaking
like a jitterbug on the dancefloor
without them where else
would we be
—sitting around the fire
on a cloudless night
taking bets on
which stars are likely next
to fall from the sky
january two thousand twenty-five
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
Judith Mary Waters, née Doyle (1936-2025)
My mother loved baseball
which is why I do as well
She used to listen to the Cubs games
on KSTT AM radio when she
was a tomboy growing up in Davenport
When I was in little league
she was my team’s scorekeeper
All the way through high school
I don’t remember her ever missing
any of my games
If there is one thing most people
didn’t know about my mother
is that she batted left-handed
For whatever reason
I truly admired her for that
january two thousand twenty-five
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
wood burning stove
boastful & bright
a child & her bear toasty warm
asleep in the nursery
newly minted wishes
playing out in dreamland
the clock in hallway
completing the countdown
chiming twelve times
december two thousand twenty-four
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
there’s evidence a ghost
has taken up residence in my
studio apartment
for example my painting
temporarily named ‘sunrise over mars’
has mysteriously turned into
‘volcano under glass’
—the yellow oranges & apple reds
replaced with aqua green & neon pink
all of the needles in my sewing kit
have been turned into pins
and all of the iron-on patches
have been scissored into bear claws
the ‘morse code’ mice in the walls
suddenly started speaking broken english
mostly complaining about
some nondescript guest
commandeering their balls & chains
all the while I am fast asleep
december two thousand twenty-four
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
it’s not the first time
death came knocking
and this time
we were more than happy
to open the next door
perhaps this time
something a little less dark
and a touch more creative
—something along the lines of
not trying to do too much
reawakened on city streets
wiped clean by recent rains
children on the sidelines
sport buckets of neon chalk
free for anyone to use
december two thousand twenty-four
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
At the corner bodega
some el gato genial
told me they sell tamales
& mudslides in the musty cellar
after closing time on Friday nights
december two thousand twenty-four
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
selfishness runs in the family
stretching from top of a mountain
to the lowest point below
where continuity flows
from one stream to the next
what mixes in along the way
is a matter of chance
an unstoppable circumstance
(more often than not)
of unintended consequence
the results will always vary
depending on birth signs
blood type & temperament
complex blue jeans passing on
quaint & subtle anomalies
december two thousand twenty-four
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
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