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poetry by j matthew waters

Archive for the tag “micropoetry”

lines of vision


for some reason
stitch and sew
repeats in my mind
like a child’s doll
eyes wide open
looking past
the lonely horizon

those loose ends
eventually tear open
momentarily
put back together
surgically restoring
lines of vision
and seamless smiles




july two thousand nineteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

lesson number one


are you talking to me
in syllables never making sense
blowing raspberries
and shaking about
like a fart in a frying pan

you came into this world
rather unexpectedly
cries and stretches and smiles
demanding everything
and nothing at the same time




july two thousand nineteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

fruit of the vine


your imagination started
long before creation
inspired by compositions
streaming through space

emerging from the dark
you selectively choose
what comes naturally
like the ripest apples
hanging on the vine





june two thousand nineteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

once there was a way


do not confuse my words with reality
they are conjured at night while my eyes
are rapidly interpreting current events
sometimes seizing the moment
like a champion in the ring
other times adrift at sea
neither lost nor found
but diligently tracking familiar stars
eventually finding my way back home





april two thousand nineteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

when it rains


there is precipitation in the sky
improvising as falling ice
pinging partially-filled glasses
and producing magical notes
music piped into the city square
unexpected dancers sporting umbrellas
smiling under artificial light
twisting and twirling and portraying
life as a grand affair




february two thousand nineteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Making Buttons


Tongue stuck out and twisting
Pepsi bottlecap between thumb and forefinger
pocket knife in other
spooning out the corking from the metal

The rounded cork disappears
inside the T-shirt
reunited with the bottlecap
between the fabric




nineteen ninety-seven
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

inner city haiku baseball


full moon with stitches
off-white and slowly revolving
like a knuckleball

in the alleyways
pick-up games start at daybreak
broomsticks and duct tape

tying run at plate
runners at every corner
bus driver pitching

final shot arcing
sailing over skyscrapers
shooting for the moon




september two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

the artist and I


we will cross the river
the artist and I
and we will find a new outlet
to call our home
and we will sleep as one
falling in and out of
romantic daydreams
evening sun hiding her
eyes behind decorative fan
rising moon reaching out
to gently awaken us
so that we may create again




july two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

one warm winter’s night


you come to me as a spirit
poking and prodding and
whispering sweet discretions in my ear
but I am fast asleep like a bear hibernating
periodically shivering
but mainly motionless and soundless
secretly enjoying a series of
interconnected dreams
leading me from one kiss to the next




july two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

once outside of the yard I will be forever free


so here I am held in some detention camp
along with every living soul I ever knew
one by one they are called away
until eventually I find myself alone again
selfishly gathering their freshly strewn petals




june two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

without love I won’t survive


it’s not easy to survive without love
someone to touch
if only for a moment in time
attempting to describe
that which can never be
like a sunset in wintertime
that was meant for only you and me




june two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

inside map rooms


all things are eventual
if not downright equal
why not let them play out as they may
instead of contemplating
various scenarios inside map rooms
where alternative endings
are inherently undesirable




may two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

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