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poetry by j matthew waters

Archive for the tag “poem”

30 Dec 2018
4 Comments

the cure


you spend the day in suspension
hanging upside down in dark cave
high frequency white noise
keeping you breathing freely
your thoughts increasingly lucid

bandages wrap your beating heart
covering unresolved feelings
wounded by your own compassion
for someone in your distant past

when it’s time to let yourself go
breaking free from the ceiling
empathy is allowed to sink in
reconnecting with a virtual bond
able to absorb your true identity




december two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Poetry and tagged , ,
29 Dec 2018
8 Comments

the further away it seems


my worst fears
but a window to the world
exposing my hopes and dreams
as if they don’t belong to me

elbows on window sill
eyes blinking shut
palms supporting chin
mind delving deeper in thought

lonesome mockingbird
outside looking in
echoing a song I’ve yet to begin

some say I’m on my way
I say I’m already there
arms stretched out
and welcoming a light
that naturally never ends




december two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Dreams, Poetry and tagged ,
28 Dec 2018
6 Comments

Recklessness

In memory of Marshall T. Schick (1962-1990)

The laughter and sounds of two cycle engines
are what I remember most. Even in summer
you played with the Kawasaki, saucer and rope.

On frozen Duck Creek five bodies
would stack upon a radio flyer as your laughter
ricocheted off the elms that lined its banks.
As you shifted gears and roared, gaining speed,
your maneuvers would force bodies to peel
off the stack, until at last only one survived.

Pleasures of others gave you the most reward,
I remember. And when I learned that your tire did not
obey at three a.m., I could only think you are not alone.





december two thousand eighteen
(originally penned circa 1990)
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Poetry and tagged , ,
27 Dec 2018
2 Comments

the last migration


nobody talks about birds
growing older
but here we are
sitting on park benches
bread crumbs in our hands

this sitting down is for birds
I say out loud
and you naturally agree
without speaking a word

it’s a warm winter’s day
and our shadows
are barely visible on the
black asphalt
like skinny icicles hanging
ever slowly changing




december two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Animals, Birds, Poetry and tagged , , ,
26 Dec 2018
4 Comments

ghost town babylon


this town has no name
but somehow keeps growing
one tiny skyscraper at a time

word has it
this town is quickly resurfacing
coming back to life
after its decimation
many centuries before spaghetti westerns

people keep arriving here
in waves and droves
like magnets with no
particular place to go
kicking up dirt and looking
to settle old scores

they say a horse
can take you only so far
into the desert
but this town appears to be
disproving that notion

are the flowers truly
blossoming again
leading up to the outer edges of town
or are they simply allegorically illusory
like a mirage of tiny skyscrapers




december two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Poetry and tagged , ,
25 Dec 2018
2 Comments

learning not to lament casually


years of traveling
studying centuries past
retracing pages and journals
and footnotes of verse and meter
oh how I struggled
to find a voice

refusing to borrow or steal
never would I dare
ask permission to copy
voices from legends
of those gracing our presence
through fact or fiction

before it was too late
I came to understand
how my own voice was allowed
to coexist on a higher plane
expressing our eventual defeat
with dignity and beauty




december two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Poetry and tagged , ,
24 Dec 2018
2 Comments

connecting dots


where do you go from here
now that loved ones have moved on
their light recalibrating far from center
revolving in intellectual circles
you no longer dare dream

creativity rests in dormant state
summoned on infrequent occasions
from crevices of an aging mind

matters of the heart remain intact
driving thoughts deeply inward
brightly colored like a rainbow
free-floating and nearly touchable
piquing a past ripe with possibilities




december two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Poetry and tagged ,
23 Dec 2018
2 Comments

present tense


what remains is what remains
once the riptide disrupts the flow

winter snow dissolves into thin air
revealing what was thought to be dead

north wind arrives before the dawn
energetic and surprisingly warm

fingers and toes begin to wiggle
deep inside the belly of the creator

there is comfort in barren trees
supported by the richness of the earth

fear not the ghostly new moon rising
giving reason to breathe yet again




december two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Nature, Poetry and tagged , ,
22 Dec 2018
2 Comments

the greatest quest


locked inside this snow white cube
I secretly dream of making
my great escape
unfreezing time by traveling
to a distant land
or leaping forward
into another dimension

I’ve been invited to do this before
but always backed down
at the final hour
afraid of heightening my
self-awareness
and finally achieving
my true potential




december two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Dreams, Poetry and tagged , ,
21 Dec 2018

chatting over mid-morning coffee


take special care
not to beat yourself up
just because of
misplaced memories

your word against the truth
may or may not exist
not in this world
or the next

subconscious realities
keep me on edge
like pressure cooker time bombs
ticking in city square

I’ve long felt most relaxed
back in the future
where love is in the air
and nights rarely end




december two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in In the City, Poetry and tagged , | Leave a comment
20 Dec 2018

unexpected change


I got fifty bucks in my pocket
and I’m going downtown
gonna buy my girl some flowers
and maybe have a beer or two

taking city bus to city center
I keep my hands in my pockets
sitting down on three-seater bench
tapping foot in make-believe time

nobody owes me nothing
and I sure ain’t in anyone’s debt
I got fifty bucks in my pocket
sun shining brightly overhead




december two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in In the City, Poetry and tagged , | Leave a comment
19 Dec 2018
6 Comments

the law of attraction


I surrender to the wind
like a kite without a tether
sailing across a sea of change

I’ve been in love before
but this time it was too late
for you see I simply drifted past
the pulling of the tides
becoming closer to the moon
than anything else




december two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Micropoetry, Poetry and tagged , ,
18 Dec 2018

fifteen makes five


five fifteen in the morning
I focus on my breathing
nearly twenty seconds it takes
to inhale and exhale
three times makes one minute
fifteen makes five

along the way I lose track
and for a moment
I find myself back in time
some sort of cosmic energy
hurtling me forward
then dragging me down

this path I take is legendary
at times god forsaken
other times a godsend
always beckoning me
offering abundance on one hand
and betrayal on another

before the rising sun
washes away the stars
introducing its ultraviolet rays
with creative passion
I slowly blink open my eyes
at five twenty in the morning



december two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Nature, Poetry and tagged , , | Leave a comment
17 Dec 2018
2 Comments

thinking things through


how dare you forget
she reminded herself
having come to terms
with how easily
it’s become
to not remember

in the back of her mind
she knew he’d never forgot
about the why or where or when
he just needed a little push
an incidental nudge
to make him think things through
circling back to a time
when reaching a certain age
doesn’t seem
to hold as much weight
as it does today



december two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserve

Posted in Poetry and tagged , ,
15 Dec 2018
6 Comments

when winter comes


the winter solstice is a week away
yet here am I
sitting in the bleachers with my mother
some forty years ago
watching my brother’s baseball game

it’s late august and it’s a night game
and he’s playing center field
chasing down any fly ball hit
anywhere near his vicinity
and I tell my mother how he
reminds me of Willie Mays

I had a little league game earlier in the day
but I’m still dressed in uniform
dirty pants and dirty face
dirty fingernails and dirty hair

before the sun goes down mosquitoes
land on my tanned and barren arms
and I pinch my skin where they are feasting
until my blood overwhelms their tiny bodies

by the time the ballpark lights take full effect
the temperature begins to dip
lower and lower
until eventually I cross my arms
slightly shivering

are you cold my mother asked me

yes I am I replied

oh my goodness she said
what will you do when winter comes




december two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserve

Posted in Baseball, Poetry and tagged , ,
14 Dec 2018
8 Comments

watercolor morning


oh darling
did you see the rainbow in the
early morning sky
[opposite the rising sun]
I had painted it for you
with eyes closed
far beyond
the green rolling hills

after the rains
I went slip-sliding away
[down the green
rolling hills]
running and tumbling
and somersaulting
willfully into
your watercolor eyes



december two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserve

Posted in Nature, Poetry and tagged , ,

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