poetry by j matthew waters

Archive for the tag “mother”

postcards to mother

I told my mother I keep all my
photographs in the cloud now

I knew she didn’t quite understand
though I sensed on the other end
she was nodding

what if you want to print them
she asks me
and share them with others

well I can certainly share without
printing them I say

not with me
you certainly may not

august two thousand seventeen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

white dove

mother will never die
and i will always remain the child
falling fast asleep to a sound
repetitiously opposing the light

it’s not like
she didn’t know what was best for me
but purposely stopped feeding me
and released me to the sky

lifting her arms up high
cupped hands slowly open
little wings quick at the chance to fly
absorbing all the outside repetition
memorized from within

may two thousand seventeen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

the second flight of the samaras

the industrious child spent
his morning picking up the fallen fruit
of the maple tree
placing them one or two or three at a time
into a plastic orange pail
as his mother sat on the glider
on the front porch
rocking the little one to sleep
comfortably in her arms
both bundled within a shawl

a cool breeze made the boy’s cheeks
as pink as the tulips that bloomed
nearly a month ago
and when the pail became filled
to his satisfaction he disappeared
into the house
only to reappear in a second story window
where he proceeded to pretend
a fleet of military choppers
converged behind enemy lines

june two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

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