they sat in a circle
boy girl
boy girl
boy girl
making up a story
one sentence at a time
a story about a stickman
made out of salty pretzels
wearing a white paper hat
and strutting around
outside the ring
twirling a magician’s cane
and making each one disappear
with a simple tap of their crowns
april two thousand sixteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
Outside Damascus on a Sunday
morning small hands press
ripened lemons recently
arrived from Istanbul
Years earlier there would be
no need for imports
and those lemonade stands
operated by the most beautiful
children of the world
exist only in memory
august two thousand fifteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
he was seriously injured on the playing field
aired on prime-time television last night
the announcer commenting how
the promising young man may
never suit up again
if only those innocent children worldwide
could be so lucky
those massacred by rockets or knives
or handguns or anything else heartless
cowards can get their bloody hands on
august two thousand fifteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
there were dancers in the skies
and songsters in the trees
gentle breezes crossed their minds
casting shadows creeping deep
swollen clouds darkened the pond
scattering notes upon the sheet
flying fish breached the surface
grasping for truths unseen
wildflowers earnestly gathered
producing lively waxing smiles
a child’s hand but a crystal vase
clenching secrets worth their while
july two thousand fifteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
children played in the sand
building empires bound to fail
if not by the morning rain
then by a bloated gibbous
sinking into the sea
they boarded a starship
and set sail into the unknown
praying to their gods
for divine guidance
during years of hardship
starting anew in an alien world
they gravitate back
where sand meets the sea
where sweet memories linger
in unfamiliar air
their curious children learning
to build their own castles
june two thousand fifteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
left in the shadows of her siblings
she fell fast asleep in the back seat of daddy’s suv
out of sight and out of mind
the very idea of tomorrow never
entered her most wildest of dreams as she breathed
the shallowest baby breaths
locked inside this man-made trap
a busy world revolves around her curiosities
her arms reaching for the sky
focused on a happy ending
she wills the glass to break into million of pieces
men dressed in red rehearsing
to set her free
may two thousand fifteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
birds of all nations storm
war-torn suburbia
switchblades and derringers
concealed under wing
blanketing rooftops and lining live wires
waiting patiently for night to fall
predawn fog smothers the moon
and silences the stars
cloaking angels of mercy
and their effortless wings
zeroing in on and sweeping away
newly orphaned refugees
november two thousand fourteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
we climbed the hill in laughter
losing our lunch boxes along the way
certain we’d be able to
find them on the way down
once on top we jumped at
pretend stars shining so bright
shouting into funneled hands
for the gods to strike us down
imagining owning all the hills
as far as the eye could see
the bad guys appeared out of thin air
and sent us tumbling
all the way back down
october two thousand fourteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
I listened for the past
but found only this noisy place
littered with half-drunken moments
and thunderstorms
so boisterous
we were forced to hide
under the bed with earbuds
and electronic coloring books
I listened for the past
turned knobs on an etch-a-sketch
producing a frequency
revisiting
black light images
dissolving into channels
of jagged lines weaving baskets
and a cat’s cradle
I listened for the past
by focusing on a spirit
reassuredly haunting and
beautifully
invisible
hiding behind the maple
waiting for the oxen to be called
to free her people
july two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
in the clouds the clowns
perform with their balloons
and wacky flowers
and superlative feet
making the children laugh and cry
leaving them wondering
why this world
is such a mysterious place
in the cloud memories
are stored so the children
can recall those days
of carelessness and glee
before forced into figuring out
how the clowns managed to
make this world
seemingly unforgettable
july two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
the industrious child spent
his morning picking up the fallen fruit
of the maple tree
placing them one or two or three at a time
into a plastic orange pail
as his mother sat on the glider
on the front porch
rocking the little one to sleep
comfortably in her arms
both bundled within a shawl
a cool breeze made the boy’s cheeks
as pink as the tulips that bloomed
nearly a month ago
and when the pail became filled
to his satisfaction he disappeared
into the house
only to reappear in a second story window
where he proceeded to pretend
a fleet of military choppers
converged behind enemy lines
june two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
your garden is all grown up
said the daughter
to the old man as they
sat in front of the fire pit
listening to the wood talk
she remembered way back when
there were stepping stones
throughout the garden
and she would jump from one stone
to the next like you would
playing hopscotch
the stones were still there
camouflaged beneath the jungle
barely noticeable amongst the greenery
blossoming a spectrum of colors
rainbows inspired to imitate
do you remember
when we put in the stepping stones
asked the old man
yes I do
answered the daughter
I was just thinking about that
june two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
on the first day of may
all the lonely children
gathered to play a game
each venturing to hide
within the seven wonders
on the first day of may
the sun refused to shine
and the children hidden
behind the shadows
pretended not to cry
on the first day of may
the glorious bell did ring
and all the children
starving for affection
raced to meet their king
may first two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
on the most sorrowful day floral arrangements
accompany the winding road
as the birds of the field sing their joyful songs
nearby wildflowers weep and sway
newly clipped roses wrapped in paper produce
smiles once believed long gone
wherever a child is knee-deep in raw color
never let time pass away
april two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
enormous yellow bus
makes historic stop
at the corner of oak
and every avenue
daddy holds his little girl’s
hand as the two of them
stand speechless staring
at the flashing stop sign
the door swings open
and curious feet disappear
into a swarming world
of pushing and pulling
march two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
the children are being watched
by men with weapons
acting as protectors
from foreign forces
they volunteer as escorts
for the elders
protecting them from snipers
and negotiators with knives
it’s easy getting educated
at such a young age
quickly picking up maps
and languages
of many legions
as long as they refrain
from strapping on suicide packs
their prophesy of negotiating
lasting peace
will one day ring true
march two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
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