jdubqca

poetry by j matthew waters

Archive for the tag “moon”

the spirit winter


waning crescent moves ever closer
to the morning light
unnoticed by most and understood by few
much like how autumn closes in
chasing away lovely Indian summer days
leaving you questioning how on earth
to survive the inevitable

pine trees shake and sway
sometimes forgotten like afterthoughts
standing tall and welcoming many
taking the brunt of the storm gracefully
buttressing the old farmhouse
natural insulation free for the taking

inside and out fire burns day and night
evident by smokestacks
sending signals to other life forces
both here on earth
and many light years away




april two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

waltzing before daybreak


wind chimes hardly whisper
interrupting predawn dreams
like a first passionate kiss
bluebird angels sighing within
wishing to imitate
branches blossoming
the first sign of spring

waning crescent moon calls you
from your slumber
mars and saturn subconsciously
tugging at your comforter
like impatient felines
needing to usher in
all that is welcoming



march two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

down below peace ebbs and flows


winter stars have long moved on
replaced by tin soldiers
recaptured and rehabilitated
forced to wear bold
and vibrant colors
and pledge allegiance to the queen

eastern front is nowhere to be found
come february
not without a rifle and bayonet
nor any working instrument
allowing you to chart
new stars unveiling new gateways

boundary waters gradually thaw
making moon appear
much more liquid and palatable
racing across land by day
seven seas by night
everchanging like an adversary





december two thousand seventeen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

honey hunting and trips to moon and back


they went honey hunting they did
christopher robin and pooh and piglet
and of course tigger too

they flew to the moon and back
their spacecraft refueling on the far side
rocking them back and forth in time
hurtling them toward the old blue jewel
more specifically the hundred acre wood

looking down from the heavens
you can see where they landed
a burst of light microwaving
and expanding through the trees
awakening all creatures
big and small and minuscule
awaiting for what must happen next





december two thousand seventeen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

telephone lines


they spoke to one another by way of make-believe telephone lines
not at all like two tin cans connected by a piece of string
stretching from easter island to omnipresent moon

blessed is she who shakes off advances and terms of endearment
instead recognizing all the misfits on the receiving end
reinventing children’s games with wild abandon

and of course with wild abandon comes boisterous laughter
speeding faster than sound through those make-believe lines
the ones stretched from sea to belly of waning gibbous



october two thousand seventeen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

sunday evening blues


the massacre on the moon
was plastered all over the news
succinctly too gruesome to be true

how everyone got there
was a matter of simple physics
(having occurred far into the future)

it was an experiment of sorts
and of course a complete failure
while all those living on mars
carried on with their lives
clearly in the dark



september two thousand seventeen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

walking on water


june has come and gone
but the moon is here to stay
though at times not obviously

poor june dismissed without reason
cast away into the heavens
searching for twins and crabs
on the far side of mercury
perhaps never to return

there was no fanfare
here in middle america
perennial fog hiding the moon
for years on end
frustrating a nomadic people
with nothing left to worship

meanwhile there is news
a new sea forms and foams
somewhere in middle africa
where virgin sands appear
(out of a nowhere)
a newborn sent from god
baptized into chaos



september two thousand seventeen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

mister moon and me


I hadn’t noticed how much the moon
had changed in such a short period of time
and I was beginning to believe
perhaps it was I evolving even faster

I told my daughter the other day
I wasn’t the same person from ten years ago
and as she nodded in agreement
I wasn’t sure she truly believed me

I keep sticking my hands in my pockets for
no particular reason
and everytime I bring them back out
I look at them in complete amazement

I remember as a child I would play in the bathtub
with armies and fishes made of soap
and after a while I would exclaim
look mom I have old man hands again

now the moon is the oldest man I’ve ever known
and I tell myself I will get there one day
as long as I don’t lose sight of its wonders
and the all possibilities it displays



august two thousand seventeen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

freezing of the sea


I knew once my skin had broken
things would be changing quickly

I quietly ducked down below
to retrieve a sweater

arriving back on deck I felt quite
comfortable beneath endless starlight

in my mind I was witnessing a new
moon rising half-way across the world



july two thousand seventeen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

one night in the merry month of may


vanilla wafer moon clears away the clouds
showering my window with midnight light
slowly stirring me to consciousness
undoing the spell long ago cast by my
darling clementine on her deathbed



may two thousand seventeen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

how blue is your heart


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

slender is the moon


sometimes she rises unexpectedly
somewhat slight
and somehow bright
like a slice of lemon or orange
painted in the sky

far out west ideas stretch
and sink
fading like an autumn leaf

face to face juxtapositions often
lead to uncertainty
casting doubt
by way of a thousand lies

there are certainly higher standards
worth obtaining
but not at the cost
of having to show no mercy



december two thousand sixteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

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