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poetry by j matthew waters

Archive for the tag “poem”

06 May 2018
3 Comments

sweet imagination


on a sunny sunday afternoon
we entertained
possibilities of what could be

sitting on metal chairs
cushions still in garage
lemon beer tasting ever so sweet
we pointed at unshakable signs
better things sure to come

there were many yesterdays
full of fear and hurt and doubt
but today is what you would call
a new world order

you see the mystery cat
has returned in all his glory
sporting a wide brimmed hat
entertaining us with a song and dance
smiling for the cameras




may two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all right reserved

Posted in Dreams, Poetry and tagged , , ,
04 May 2018
2 Comments

excommunicado


sometimes I’m a little late to the party
and sometimes I forget to show up at all
either way there is constant commingling
going on between this world and the next

come sunrise strangers begin to stir
chatting amongst themselves in the parlor
recounting the previous night’s events
and taking bets on my reappearance




may two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all right reserved

Posted in Micropoetry, Poetry and tagged , ,
03 May 2018
2 Comments

secrets between the moon and me


I wanted to share the early morning moon
but she was downright dead set against it
peeking and booing behind fog-like clouds
coming and going as swiftly as my footsteps

these early morning walks remind me
of my paperboy days some forty-five years ago
days seemingly much clearer in my mind
than those last week or month or half a score

back then I had no idea of things like hibiscus tea
or heart-shaped flowers colored in pink or white
but I was certain one day I would discover
there must be more to life than elegant frivolity




may two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all right reserved

Posted in Nature, Poetry and tagged , ,
02 May 2018
8 Comments

in the way she moves


I’ve been making a living harvesting diamonds
from faraway planets
bringing them back to earth by way of
space savvy drones

this lucrative technology I’ve curated is keeping
rocket scientists baffled
scratching their heads and ringing my phone
twenty-four seven

I’ll be damned if I’ll give them the slightest hint
of what they already know
something about the law of attraction
and how she moves me




may two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all right reserved

Posted in Aliens, Poetry and tagged , ,
01 May 2018
2 Comments

when they take me down


I pretend it’s still April
on account of the pouring rain
tamping down my inner thoughts
thinking of huddling in the dark

when they take me down
I imagine I’ll be fighting all the way
calling on gods for yet another chance
should the world forget my name





may two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all right reserved

Posted in Micropoetry, Poetry and tagged ,
30 Apr 2018
8 Comments

April Sunrise


I shall miss you and pray to revisit another day

These past thirty evenings have given me pause
as I come to terms with my own lunatic thoughts
constantly giving chase to fleeting ideas
circling the globe in unpredictable fashion

I’ve decided competition is less important
than respectfully counting your blessings
and if you learn to start your day in earnest
you may discover endless sunrises to worship




april two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all right reserved

Posted in Poetry and tagged , , ,
29 Apr 2018
5 Comments

while on the way to school


old blue jeans tired and tattered
stitched and patched and faded
fit perfectly like kindergarten friends
skipping hand in hand for miles on end
making up new words that rhyme with
biscuit and nugget and peanut and butter

she’s swinging a small bag back and forth
something for show and tells she says
refusing to let me in on her little secret
so I imagine it’s a miniature scarecrow
stitched and patched and faded
tattered like a pair of old blue jeans




april two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all right reserved

Posted in Micropoetry, Poetry and tagged , ,
28 Apr 2018
13 Comments

unrealistic expectations


recreating that which transpired ages ago
like piecing together an impossible puzzle
patching together squares of unrelated fabric
having no business being stitched together

there’s a timepiece strapped to my wrist
and I’ve no means of removing it
ticking like some roadside bomb
waiting for the perfect time to explode

I’ve nowhere to go except forward
strapped in boots and marching through
frozen grass icing over like a stream
old familiar territory once made of concrete

there’s a house up ahead I know it well
an old childhood friend used to live there
how many times I’ve been drawn inside
a world where I was always welcomed

it’s early but not too early
the sun arising
shining upon the front screen door

before I am able to knock
a child appears
our eyes meeting inquisitively

the child’s eyes give way to a man
about my own age
pushing open the door and telling me
he’s not been well
and that he’s been expecting me




april two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all right reserved

Posted in Dreams, Poetry and tagged , ,
27 Apr 2018
9 Comments

extraterrestrial intelligence


how are we to reconcile recent events
unable to come to terms why we
scratch and crawl and scratch again
expecting to find something brand new
instead uncovering oft told untruths

with shovel in hand it’s easier to go deeper
much further than digging like a dog
but what can there possibly be down below
that we don’t already know

dinosaur bones or diamonds from another world
mass graves from this past century
and the one before
from every century going back until kingdom come

instead of digging we learn to drill with precision
hitting veins of fools gold or liquid gold
eventually discovering wormholes
leading to china or another world altogether
places unfamiliar in a familiar way
leaving us wondering why on earth
we ever felt threatened in the first place




april two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Aliens, Poetry and tagged , ,
26 Apr 2018
11 Comments

harden not your heart


weep not my love
for there is hope in isolation
and beauty in sorrow

though showers may fall
a window remains open
welcoming a warm breeze
clearing your uncertainty
and soothing your fears

past the horizon
and high above the clouds
your light is burning
dying to be seen




april two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Micropoetry, Poetry and tagged , ,
25 Apr 2018
8 Comments

an evening in late april


unfinished tabletop
wishbone resting on windowsill
dishes in the sink

roses abloom on the vine
outside kitchen window
nature’s fragrance floating

scattered thoughts
pieced together like a dream
disguised as poetry




april two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Micropoetry, Nature, Poetry and tagged , , ,
24 Apr 2018
2 Comments

who’s that knocking at the door


it’s a revolving door
that house across the street
a dozen different occupants
over past 20 years

I’m afraid to go in myself
anymore
and I can’t remember
how long it’s been since the
last time I did
afterwards lecturing my children
to never to step foot inside

of course they’re all grown up now
living their own lives with their own
memories of what may or may not
have transpired there

meanwhile I remain here
in the house they grew up in
standing in front of the picture window
curiously watching a young family
moving in like it was only yesterday




april two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Poetry and tagged , ,
23 Apr 2018
6 Comments

wherever you may go


as much as I think I should
I don’t pretend to know you
stranger in the midday sun
dancing in the city park
as if nobody is around

I sense undercover angels
hovering above you
unseen agents pulling strings
adding to your improvisations
interpreting forward movement

though grief is your dance
your eyes tell me otherwise
giving me pause and hope
that you may extend your hand
and take me with you




april two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Dogma, Poetry and tagged , ,
22 Apr 2018

no time for baseball


it’s the bottom of the ninth
and nobody’s keeping score
and though the lights are on
the stadium is nearly empty

in the comfort of my own home
I can’t reach the game on am radio
instead switch to fm and listen to
jimi hendrix covering bob dylan

early morning news feed arrives
bold headlines scream no-hitter
followed by abbreviated stories
regurgitating tales of mass destruction

weatherman breaks in unannounced
low lying fog chemically unbalanced
possibly canceling the school day
if not the entire baseball season




april two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Baseball, Poetry, War Poems and tagged , , , | Leave a comment
21 Apr 2018

little jerusalem


from the outside it was a sleepy little town
located hundred miles from anywhere
quaint and well-kept main street
three churches with spiraling steeples
one bank and one grocery store

on the fringes there lived a commune
ordinary families of starving artists
jesus freaks they called themselves
professing the streets were haunted
by witnesses of christ’s hanging

whenever outsiders arrived in town
they were welcomed by apparitions
ghosts of mob’s past peddling
sterling silver crucifixes and
one-way tickets to paradise




april two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Dogma, Poetry and tagged , , | Leave a comment
20 Apr 2018
9 Comments

missing in action


looking down from the ninth floor
there was nowhere to go but up

michael may have been missing
but I knew he was within earshot

though I was tiring of the routine
I had no intention of checking out
instead reestablished my footing
attempting to regain communication
with anyone who may or
may not have wings




april two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Dogma, Micropoetry, Poetry and tagged , ,

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