jdubqca

poetry by j matthew waters

Archive for the tag “poem”

as long as I remember


it wasn’t supposed to come to this
but here we stand at the precipice

oh how we keep saying tomorrow
is a brand new day
and now after all these years
tomorrow’s here to stay

one part of me says climb that hill
the other saying dig your way through

options are limitless
but we tend to focus on black
and white considerations
knowing full well [at this point]
there aren’t any bad decisions

and then there’s the river
flowing through it all
one day impersonating rebirth
the next day heaven on earth



february two thousand nineteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

maximum resonance


I swore to myself I’d have
no more panic attacks
inside this lonesome tube
all kinds of drums
banging sporadically
and very much out of sync

you keep changing it up
with queer infrequency
just to keep me off my toes
no doubt

what if I fall asleep I say
by all means do try she says
but just don’t snore too loud
I’ve got a job to do

yeah right
how am I supposed to nod off
with all this racket going on
overpowering my greatest hits
you allegedly started piping in

you kept me yours much longer
than you promised you would
and by the time you finally
pulled me out
I hadn’t changed at all




february two thousand nineteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

little lambs on the run


we pushed through the crowds
on a sunday morning
parting the layers of worshipers
basking in the sunlight
hoping for a final glimpse
what may lay on the other side

a scattering of us lived on
forever hand in hand
snaking through the spirited mob
as if we always existed
intention in our eyes
and redemption in our hearts




january two thousand nineteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

a gathering of armies


they held the stars for ransom
loveless creatures of the night
coming and going as they please
like outlaw angels on the run

it’s difficult to track that which
leaps from moon to moon
pitting fire against magic
and heaven from hell

this is not the first or last time
boarding chartered flights
eyes shut tight and chasing
death to armageddon and back




january two thousand nineteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Hypnosis


Before opening up
believe in going back
where you understand most clearly
reasons for soliciting past-time travels

Tarnished pendulum swings
somewhat rhythmically
testing your peripheral and recessive vision
its motion repetitively pleasant
and incessantly inviting

Even insomnia can’t match the power
of precocious preoccupation
the subconscious mind questioning
suggestions from the beholder

During the reverie certain epiphanies
reveal themselves
standing alone and with merit
their undying truths
in need of further discovery



january two thousand nineteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

strength in numbers


to be misunderstood
that is a common occurrence
among the masses
treading through the streets of life
unnoticed and mostly lost
but there is strength
beneath the prevailing current
an uprising brewing [so to speak]
on these forsaken streets
bound and determined
to return life to the dying
and a fresh voice to all those
willing to move forward




january two thousand nineteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

counting blue birds


certain things bring tears to my eyes
but I’m not about to let anyone
in on my little secrets

she asked me ‘penny for my thoughts’
and I replied how I really miss
counting blue birds from the deck

autumn was short and the winter cruel
and I was forced to retreat
back to the days of my youth

how I wanted her to accompany me
but I needed her to stay behind
in case they return while I’m away




january two thousand nineteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

trying to leave something behind


inside pockets or drawers or cupboards
there is something waiting for you

you won’t have to look hard or long
behind every corner there is something new
something I left behind just for you

I used to try too hard to get your attention
but now I drift here and there
like a colorful ghost pretending to be a flower
dropping faded petals along the way

by days end I close my eyes and unwind
picturing you as a little girl with a wicker basket
happily gathering my thoughts one after another




january two thousand nineteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

feeding the dogs


mama’s in her element
barefoot in the kitchen
sporting blue pocket bib apron
wooden spoon in hand
tall boy budweiser in the other

adjacent room mostly in view
she takes in sights and sounds
expressing neither pride nor prejudice
pretending to understand
present and next generation

her boys should be gone by now
but here they remain
entertaining friends via
rock ‘n’ roll and video games
oblivious to an outer world
that is cruel and dangerous
and quite possibly alluring

if she had her own way
she’d have traded this scullery
long ago to be lost at sea
hand in hand with her young mariner
the one who promised her
the world is here for the taking





january two thousand nineteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

year of the earth pig


do not dare pick up the sword
and take exception to the earth pig
having last been seen
extending generosity
some three score years ago

as a citizen of america
[make that a descendant
of many an immigrant]
I’ve been molded to admire
the likes of porky and wilbur
piglet and petunia

come february four
let us indeed move forward
with the earth pig
relieving stress
through movement and meditation
picking up the pen
not only to communicate
but to draw blossoming flowers
[popular among friends]
and offering them when fully bloomed
to perfect strangers



january two thousand nineteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

contrails paint an invisible sky


one by one the cities fall
blackened by fire and ice
falling from the heavens

late night broadcasts
capture angels
as floating globes of light
escorting lost souls
to their next destination

once the airings cease
those alive in the countryside
watch in amazement
the setting sun consuming
what was left behind

dawn and twilight
become but an abstract idea
the moon and stars and planets
mere memories burned
deep within the naked eye

a nearby stream and crickets
can be heard at certain times
young ones sprinting wildly
as an occasional rocket
blasts off yet another spacecraft




january two thousand nineteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

the most beautiful woman in the world


helen of troy
hatchling of zeus
or so the story goes

oh how the gods loved
to play their games
this time disguised
as a beautiful white swan
protecting the lovely leda
from predator eagle
before seducing and raping
the queen of sparta

how forcefully did he
execute his will
on the helpless beauty
his enormous wings
pinning her down
in violent copulation
perpetuating the commingling
between god and human
further complicating
true bloodlines
throughout the course
of human history



january two thousand nineteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

120 moons


when life can’t get any better
something hits you with
indiscriminate authority
leaving you reeling and rewinding
forcing you to go underground

fast forward and here you stand
garden spade in hand
having dug your way out
over a period of 120 moons
well rested after presumed dead

the old outer you no longer exists
unlike your inner revolution
which continues to evolve
redefining a checkered past
with a future that has no end




january two thousand nineteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

oracle of antiquity


she believes in blue skies
and the power of silence
alone in her thoughts
moonshine above shoreline

she believes in pure magic
supernatural abilities
coursing through her veins
flying past her fingertips

above and beyond all else
she believes in herself
reborn from relics of a past
fashioned via retrospection




january two thousand nineteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

the house of displaced poetry


it’s not easy finding inspiration
on low visibility nights
so you just move on from
one thought to the next
hoping to find a place to call home

without a charge nights are lonelier
inner city sky void of lights
artificial ones hard to see
thanks to cold wintry mix
forcing shelters to exceed capacity

I’ve lived through this odyssey before
pocket book of poetry
pressed against my heart
three or four layers deep
every single word still very much alive




january two thousand nineteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

watching cartoons in little pink houses


everyone sees him except you
my dear inspector
walking amongst the living
and very much in the thick of things
whether taking five in the studio
[sitting cross-legged in the director’s chair]
or strolling down the walk of fame
hand in hand with julie andrews

he turns your blues into pink
right before your very eyes
but all you realize is yourself
as if that oversized magnifier
is nothing but a looking glass

some say that ever elusive diamond
never did exist
but that colorful far-out cat
now he was the real deal
blending into every kind of scenery
be it on the big screen or otherwise




january two thousand nineteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Post Navigation