poetry by j matthew waters

Archive for the tag “fall”

I am the egg-man

pushing from the inside
kicking and pushing and
screaming inside this
unbreakable shell
I sit on a shelf
thinking about knocking
myself off
wondering if I fell
hard enough
I just might break out

hired thieves move
stealthily from a
thicket of woods
casting nets
along both sides
of this historic wall
betting amongst themselves
just how rich they’ll become
once hauling me
to the castle in one piece

june two thousand fourteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

all things new again

autumn arrives right on time
a reminder that none of us
can forever enjoy
the endless days of light

early in the morning
when the sky is untouched
by a belated sun
you are awakened by little leaves
knocked around by tortuous winds
forming strength as a collective
and striking window panes
as if they were sheets of rain

nothing can escape the transition
into this slow death
where you are bound
to experience the creepiness
entering your soul
leaving you hungry and cold
and wishing for all things new again

click here for youtube video

september two thousand twelve
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved


flatfooted on the edge
of a supersized
new york city highrise
i calmly stand tall
like an olympian diver
slowly rising to her toes
before falling into twisted
recollections of fetal positions
and outstretched arms
a trail of shuttering thumbnails
racing faster and faster
until forever buried
below the water’s wake

august two thousand twelve
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

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