the moon
was born hollow
as empty as the thoughts
of a dead man
there’s a reason
unknown to humans
why it does not spin
on its axis
but on the inside
an alien race
is hard at work
getting it back on track
february two thousand twenty-five
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
beautiful moonchild
rising like a sunflower
despite the distant storms
we toast to the idea that is you
brandishing a smile unlike any other
how the room brightens
only as it should
poets gathering in the conservatory
collaborating on an ode
to a girl they once knew
the light in her eyes
showcasing inner goodness
october two thousand twenty-four
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
I’ve been blessed by the moon
from the very beginning
entering my consciousness
at a very young age
when I thought my thoughts
were implanted there
by the dying satellite
we were supposed to be friends
but remained only acquaintances
all these years
like two brothers born
twelve years apart
as for the blessing
at first I thought it was a curse
until coming to understand
death comes early & often
forever fearless
october two thousand twenty-four
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
yesterday exists
mccartney
sang about it
once upon a time
do you remember
how it used
to be—how
it’s not anything like
that anymore
instead it’s today
something new
something to embrace
or something to fear
depending
on the mood that
strikes you
when you awaken
attempting to remember
what it was
you did yesterday
such as giving witness
to the moonrise
how she spoke to you
saying look at me
can you detect the
difference—how I am
almost exactly the same
as yesterday
october two thousand twenty-four
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
I was seven years old
when man first walked on the moon
for some reason
I recall I really wasn’t amazed
after all I had learned years earlier
and saw for myself
there was already a man on the moon
—and from what I understood
a reality since the dawn of civilization
and now in the news today
amateur astronauts are walking in space
something totally imaginable
except for the fact
there isn’t anything out there
to set your foot upon
september two thousand twenty-four
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
how does the spider string its way
all the way to the moon
an instinctive labor of love
taking advantage of low lying clouds
and atmospheric winds
propelling itself
past the ever elusive exosphere
otherwise known as
the little miss muffet barrier
september two thousand twenty-four
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
one day she decided not to eat
having this desire on solving
the problems of existence
instead she took to liquids
at first some water & then some milk
later on a glass of lemonade
at which point she wondered
how many ghosts were haunting her mind
into the afternoon she had some tea
and thought only for a moment
how good a biscuit would taste
maybe with a little butter
or some marmalade
but then she moved on
relaxing on the settee in the parlor
sipping on a glass of chardonnay
her instincts dulled by convenience
soon falling into a stupor
soon dreaming of her teddy bear
the stuffing inside growing larger in the belly
like a waxing gibbous
june two thousand twenty-four
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
there I go again
off into the unknown
can’t you see me waving goodbye
way up high in the sky
my arms like supersonic wings
folded behind my shoulders
my legs tucked inside the fuselage
on my way to the moon
to spend a night or two
a brief interlude before moving on
march two thousand twenty-four
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
She walked into the room
a waxing gibbous
with a baby inside
shining brightly
like perpetual hope
as if to say
everyone stop & look
I’ve become the gift bearer
But that was yesterday
her brightness fading
like a silent star
settling into a routine
fit for a Queen
coming changes sublime at best
wild & random thoughts
fading yet still aglow
march two thousand twenty-four
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
watching the evening news
is an old habit I’ve yet to break
I get what’s going on
no thanks to the world wide web
a constant feed linking me
to all corners of the world
as if I actually live & breathe
the air I’ve come to witness
I understand the moon
is not the same
above war-torn populations
shedding pieces of itself
like fireflies from heaven
hoping to be captured
by boys & girls
with & without homes
december two thousand twenty-three
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
O! god of sea & air
how you lure me to the coast
breathing in your aura
permeating throughout
the here & now
O! it’s not too late
it’s never too late
slowly repairing the damage
inflicted by the excesses
of the city
O! god of sea & air
how your calling teaches me
wave after wave (after wave)
full moon arising
the night forever young
november two thousand twenty-three
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
mahogany skull made for two
handbuilt over a lunar cycle
docked at the river’s edge
crescent moon rises mid-morning
the boat made for two
crossing still waters to intersect
with the satellite
reeling her into the boat
—bringing my love back home
november two thousand twenty-three
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
the night is young
ageless like a new moon
at the break of dawn
a trio of violinists
tuning their instruments
in a field of wheat
seven angels harmonizing
holding golden tapers
shimmering like the stars
november two thousand twenty-three
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
listen carefully my love
for I shall be whispering
the words that vibrate
through the air
shaped by the moon
& the crow
& the trees standing
tall on the boulevard
do not grieve my love
when the moon
loses its mystery
or the crow delivers
its last waltz
or the trees standing
tall on the boulevard
take their final bow
september two thousand twenty-three
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
what sorrow is this
that sings me to sleep
on a moonless night
a gentle breeze stirring
the white curtains
brushing my check
what sorrow is this
that dreams inside me
sending me to places
foreign & soulful
two moons in the sky
guiding me to the sea
what sorrow is this
that speaks to me
without saying a word
teaching me to grieve
in a silent manner
teaching me to laugh (again)
when the time is right
september two thousand twenty-three
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
I can’t seem to shake her
anywhere I go
by land or by air or by sea
always on my tail
like a puppy or a shadow
an unshakable soul
I am rarely lost
but often found
hanging out at the shoreline
breathing in the promise
of an unmistakable
tomorrow
come morning you will be here
like a blue moon
in the making
once upon a time thin
as a wafer
relentless & unwavering
august two thousand twenty-three
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
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