jdubqca

poetry by j matthew waters

Archive for the tag “blues”

mandolin blues


there’s no anticipation of any sort
driving down this rural rollercoaster-like road
emotions tucked inside glove box
top down and speakers outperforming
background warblers racing along
and singing gloriously

I’ve been chasing recurring dreams
for such a long time seems like reality
somehow though it never gets old
eclectic mandolin relaxing my inner ear
keeping my spirits perfectly in tune
with this endless country road




october two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

candles burning


I’ve been locked away for days
recovering from nerve blocks
and a brief episode of the blues

seems I’ve been giving of myself
blindingly and with regularity
not taking into consideration
what’s right with the world

repeated jabs to the gut have a
way of wearing down shadowboxers
not conditioned to go twelve rounds

midnight has long come and gone
and now I find myself (once again)
right back where I started
relighting the dark side of the moon




july two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

One Bourbon

a tribute poem to John Lee Hooker

it was hot
but not too hot
and this here old man
sat back on red and plush parlor chair
right there on the sidewalk
his old gibson and radio style mic
plugged into beat-up fender amp

he started strumming this chorus
picking the verses
explaining how he hadn’t seen his girl
since night before last
strumming and picking
his feet tapping the concrete
tenement windows opening
children eyes blinking
mouths widening and smiling

neighborhood cats and dogs and
even mice are drawn to the curbside
children coming out a’running
a young woman sitting cross-legged
on second story window sill
snapping fingers and tearfully
relating to the old man’s story

they’ve all been down this road before
every single body within earshot
soulful and sad but ever so hopeful
realistically aware how it’s
easier said than done
washing away those same old blues




april two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

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

blue river


I wandered down to the river
where the rolling rock
segues into a row of willows
settled inside the shadows
and wished my blues away

dark clouds gathered ‘round
blanketing the sunshine
casting sheets of rain upon the river
purposefully rhythmical
yet without any reason

eyes surrendering to gravity
I spread my body across the ground
like an angel with torn wings
dreaming within the willows
in every single color except blue


april two thousand fourteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

cry for the badman


the bad man could care less
about fingers pointed
in his general direction
could care less
when blamed for the sun
not shining
or the dark clouds
not forming
when all anyone really wanted
was a little rain falling down


february two thousand fourteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Winter Blues


butterflies are nothing but
welcomed distractions in a
hurry-up-world
long after the youth of careless
rebellion becomes
netted in routine



december two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

outside my window


peering out my window
clouds gather around
and darken
a once promising
bright day

blackbirds circle above
slowly descending
and squawking
instinctively finding
shelter

thunder murmurs and moans
and i close my eyes
suppressing
a distant memory
knocking

once the showers arrive
i gaze past the pane
your image
refreshing like the rain
falling



december two thousand twelve
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

after the thrill is gone


i imagined
what it would be like
to be alone eternally
without a soul
in the world
to share life’s
finest moments

as my thought
began to dwindle
into nothingness
she kissed me
atop my forehead
and whispered sweetly
the thrill is gone



december two thousand twelve
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

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