unfinished tabletop
wishbone resting on windowsill
dishes in the sink
roses abloom on the vine
outside kitchen window
nature’s fragrance floating
scattered thoughts
pieced together like a dream
disguised as poetry
april two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
there is desperation in the wind
causing fires to spread
and lonely thoughts to cave in
good lord handing out hail marys
like there is no tomorrow
it’s 4:30 in the morning
and you tell yourself the sun
may never rise again
and somehow you forgive yourself
finally resigned to fall asleep
april two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
exposed to your predicament
I refuse to feed my face
instead spend my free time
determining how to calm your fears
you say there is no place to go
and I say you’ve got to be kidding
if only you would accept the hand
reaching out to help you
september two thousand seventeen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
glass floor to be danced upon
shiny and bright by full moon
anxious to be noticed
spotlighting raindrops
falling from tallest ceilings
I’ve been inside this maze before
and always come out
smelling like roses
blowing my kisses into a mirror
constantly reinventing itself
august two thousand seventeen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
wandering eyes drift toward faraway places
beyond the most restrictive boundaries
where all the gods’ offspring continuously
compete for your complete attention
august two thousand seventeen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
for some reason only the crickets
came out that night
and before the break of dawn
all of the birds will have left the city
at the inception it was a nonevent
but in retrospect
it shouldn’t have taken so long
before the people started leaving
june two thousand seventeen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
they kept bringing in more men
untrained and unarmed
marching single file in and out of the fire
reborn into rising stars
cast away to recreate
new worlds on their own terms
may two thousand seventeen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
half dozen white-eyed blackbirds
pace and fidget on a shelf
grooving to the white album
and lip-syncing at will
unsure what brought them there
not one of them cares
not as long as there are nuts to crack
and old-time rock to hear
may two thousand seventeen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
it’s the first of may and all I have left
is this desire to sleep and
witness ruby-throated hummingbirds
feasting upon the flowers
may day two thousand seventeen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
we can pretty much do anything
out here in the fields
except piss on concrete buildings
or turn boxcars into artwork
the bus driver went one way
while the rest of us went another
confident the slender moon would
never lead us astray
april two thousand seventeen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
stained glass hearts
tarnished over time
void of even the faintest
hint of crimson on the
brightest of summer days
on occasion lonely hearts
glisten back to life
slowly reaching out on the
clearest of nights at a
bulging moon turning blue
march two thousand seventeen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
Note: this poem is linked to Crow’s Open Mic Invitation
I witnessed first hand
how santa claus hijacked
a short bus half-filled with
excited yet misinformed misfits
you could see him barreling
down route 13
allegedly screaming out a list of names
bouncing on the driver’s seat
failing to get the little blue bird
off the ground
december two thousand sixteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
solar power paper planes
survey and scan billion acre rainforest
detecting seeds of life
planted by prehistoric man
suddenly sprouting beneath the mist
october two thousand sixteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
homeless little ones
fill the city square
walking aimlessly and unsupervised
staring into the palms of their hands
slaying pokémon dragons with
whatever imagination
they can get their hands on
august two thousand sixteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
far from the embattled cities
beyond the waves of love and fury
milkweed grows wild along
county roads and graveled byways
(introducing rows of half-grown corn)
bending with the wind
and corrected occasionally
by a fleeting motorist
july two thousand sixteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
she was six and he five
they walked a mile or so
hand in hand
nearly every single day
to missus munster’s
kindergarten class
reciting nursery rhymes
and interpreting clouds
and calling out flowers
by their given names
may two thousand sixteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
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