jdubqca

poetry by j matthew waters

Archive for the tag “hope”

celestial intelligence


you can only hope to outlive it
the system of the clouds
designed to wear you down
with or without shadows

a woman with wings
swoops near the surface & accelerates
back into the sky
—most likely she is not alone

how far they’ve traveled
is a matter of speculation
it’s as if they’ve been here before
the way they know
the terrain
the way they call your name

it’s never too late to change
they seem to be saying
coaxing you out of the cave
insinuating it’s safe again
to see the light of day






may two thousand twenty-three
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserve

rescue efforts


the song is barely heard
but it’s there
buried beneath the rubble

the children need to hear it
on their hands & knees
clawing & digging with their fingers


there I can hear the song again
one of them says
it’s like a whisper but it’s there
and the others agree
digging even faster now
saying yes we can hear it too

adults with shovels
frantically plunge & pull the blade
throwing the contents
past their shoulder
the light of day passing through
the song of hope growing stronger
with each & every effort





may two thousand twenty-three
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

underestimation


the wary boy preferred
the shadows
learned early on how to stay
barely above the surface
carefully picking all the data
he would ever need

the lonely girl caught on
to his movements
emulating habits & methods
taking notes as she went
molding & crafting them
into her very own

at one point both noticed
a little yellow bird
sporting a brand new song
an emphasis of sorts
shining a light on their faces
for all the world to see





march two thousand twenty-three
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

like a patch of blue sky


nothing is off limits
this is a universal truth
well before the making of man

the forecast keeps changing
challenging the stationary
beneficial to the fluid ones
coming & going at their leisure

the trick is finding out
what lesser god to latch onto
understanding the sign of the times
like a small patch of blue sky
inviting & unapologetic





november two thousand twenty-two
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

hope in this world


the lines are infectious
now the whole world is at a standstill
the little one tested positive
waiting on a number to be called

to mask or not to mask
that has become the question
bad actors reciting shakespeare
contradicting the next conspiracy

there are so many open seats
at this year’s final table
be prepared to answer yes or no
when they call your number





february two thousand twenty-two
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

digging


there is this hope
that exists all on it’s own
and sometimes
we understand it
like there’s no tomorrow
and other times
it’s the most elusive thing
in the world
like a pearl in a locket
buried in the past





february two thousand twenty-two
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

the valley of bones


listen can you hear it
the changing of the guard
constructively rattling sabers
as if directed by the stars

at birth we were promised
there’d be peace in our time
yet the war machine rages on
so many years past our prime

who am I but a mercenary
or a prophet sent by the lord
reborn on this earth to deliver
a final cannonball of hope




september two thousand nineteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

where it all went wrong


there comes a time when one must fess up
to what they have become
and decide for themselves if there was a
point in time things started to unravel

I once stopped a rolling stone dead in its tracks
inspired by an organist who pounded out
‘house of the rising sun’

it could have easily flattened me
but I was still on the rise
feeling stronger than any life-giving force
either here or abroad

how fleeting and how shameful in retrospect
knowing so many have no intention of
allowing anyone to continuously rise





november two thousand seventeen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

decoding the killer gene


though knocking loudly at the gate
the brilliant sunrise could not get through


jesus freaks sat outside the borders
healing the other side without lifting a hand
absolving self-inflicted wounds

somewhere in a basement in america
a new code is creating itself
concocted by a lost soul
again reborn

folklore and chronicles and atrocities
fuel an already hungry mind
manufacturing new ambitions by
discovering anti-killing algorithms





june two thousand seventeen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

waiting on the sun


we hadn’t heard the roar of jets
going on 13 hours now
and we were beginning to fear the worst
was yet to come

if there was a window not blown out
by now that would make the evening news
though there was neither television nor radio
no microwaves and
certainly no wifi
let alone clouds in the make-believe sky

the children often wonder when the sun
will return
when the flowers in the fields
will bloom again



april two thousand seventeen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

a thaw in relations


inspiration lies low
like ursa minor in hibernation
like tulip bulbs
stirring in february soil

blue eyes painted over
darkened skies
peek past wintry clouds
and toward a brand new day

open arms warmly welcome
a once elusive sun
promising to thaw a world
hopeful to rise again


january two thousand sixteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

behind the darkest of days


dense fog rolled in
long before the awakening
muting streetlamps
seen as glowing orbs
dotted along lifeless streetscapes

behind the shroud
crows gather atop barren
unseen trees
calling upon a breakthrough light
delivering beacons of hope


december two thousand fifteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

beyond the light


pretending this life-giving light
never once existed is like
accepting neither did I

wandering in the darkness
catlike eyes search for nothing
in particular but hopeful
to find something new

tall trees open up like umbrellas
protecting the ground
from metallic dust showers
turning into cosmic twisters
chased by space cowboys
riding sun-powered horses

life beyond the light is like a twin
searching for her lost soul
relentlessly persevering


january two thousand fifteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

one-way ticket out of here


I walked the back streets into the
heart of the city
pulling on cigarillos and
spitting on beetles

it was noon and I should have
been in school
but the gray sky somehow
took hold of my mind
led me away
to where I was needed most

weeks earlier I had been hoping
to hook up with the outlaw josey wales
but that opportunity had
come and gone
and I was left holding my
head in my hands

(I reminded myself that back home
there is only so much dirt to sweep)

god’s plan is not mine to question
but I’m grateful for the few
hundred dollars in my front pocket
not to mention a one-way ticket
and my mother’s rabbit’s foot





december two thousand fourteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

anytime the sky is crying


I’ll be damned if I had good
reason chasing any fool thing
for a pat on the back
or some sort of medal that later
winds up in the river

I’ll be damned if I knew
what I’d do next
if I didn’t have money
to pay the rent

At least I got enough scratch
to frequent the Irish district
twice or thrice a week
swapping sailor stories
with make-believe monsters
who never remember your name

Chasing any fool thing at least
gives a man a little hope
like a little piece of sunshine
stuffed inside his pocket
never understanding its power
until it’s almost too late


december two thousand fourteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

recounting history


the torch may fade from time to time
may flicker like a pilot’s light
disappearing over the sea

below the surface the torch
resumes its glow
likely to be found by henchmen
digging foxholes

beware the silence
they warned
lifting their torches
and charging a newfound
enemy with fiery explosions

in the aftermath smoldering fires
resurrect memories of old promises
feeding those who hunger
rebuilding what was destroyed

as new histories emerge new
generations evolve
securing the torches in submerged silos
believing that without peace
all the yesterdays of the world
added up to nothing



november two thousand fourteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

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