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poetry by j matthew waters

Archive for the tag “poem”

19 Apr 2018
21 Comments

beautiful is the grotesque


though I may change
I’m not giving up anything
with absolute certainty
those spots I’ve long been sporting
aren’t about to disappear anytime soon

sylvia wrote about limitations
about her beautiful grotesqueness
and though I stumbled upon her words
by sheer coincidence
I was sure they were my very own
long before I was ever born

all my life I’ve been chasing stars
and trailing the moon
imitating them to a fault
ever changing but always the same





april two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Poetry and tagged , , ,
18 Apr 2018
11 Comments

One Bourbon

a tribute poem to John Lee Hooker

it was hot
but not too hot
and this here old man
sat back on red and plush parlor chair
right there on the sidewalk
his old gibson and radio style mic
plugged into beat-up fender amp

he started strumming this chorus
picking the verses
explaining how he hadn’t seen his girl
since night before last
strumming and picking
his feet tapping the concrete
tenement windows opening
children eyes blinking
mouths widening and smiling

neighborhood cats and dogs and
even mice are drawn to the curbside
children coming out a’running
a young woman sitting cross-legged
on second story window sill
snapping fingers and tearfully
relating to the old man’s story

they’ve all been down this road before
every single body within earshot
soulful and sad but ever so hopeful
realistically aware how it’s
easier said than done
washing away those same old blues




april two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in In the City, Poetry and tagged , , , ,
17 Apr 2018
11 Comments

artistic revolutions


time zones and seasonal patterns
have forced my hand to reassess my
opinion of life as we know it

images in my mind continually evolve
from tulip to azalea to lemon tree

those hummingbirds feasting on
oswego tea blossoms were once
damselflies during the dinosaur days

moon chases sun like dog after tail
eventually tiring into submission

clashes in the past reconstruct the future
stirring and remixing and reimagining
painting skies like never before seen




april two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Nature, Poetry and tagged , , ,
16 Apr 2018
4 Comments

reminiscing in the southern hemisphere


I’m lost again
somewhere in the middle of argentina
faraway from the capital
where the air is clean
and the mountains are nearby
where I can practice my spanish
without criticism or second thoughts
trying to put onto paper
how I miss the mystery
of the mediterranean
whether it be in southern europe
or north africa
(and all points in between)
occasionally looking up to the heavens
pen tapping the side of my
near-empty pint glass
my uninterrupted thoughts
invoking the poetry gods
to give me courage to return home
one last time




april two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Dreams, Poetry and tagged , , ,
14 Apr 2018

patient like the blackbird


in my isolation blackbird does appear
stammering about calmly impatient
deliberately explaining to me
my imaginary predicament

he says we’ve flown many times
into the unknown
much like a dream that repeats
but only after long intervals
like how distant planet orbits her sun

I’ve rescued you many times
(he goes on to explain)
taking you to the safety of the towers
where you witness firsthand
flocks of blackbirds
feasting into the night




april two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Birds, Dreams, Poetry, War Poems and tagged , , | Leave a comment
13 Apr 2018
4 Comments

search party


mad scientists experiment with crash test beauties
self-driving cars fueled by all-powerful sunshine
speeding down mojave superhighway

once promising starlets now victims of trial and error
first degree texts erased by corrosive sand
blown away by bulging moon and desert winds

friends and relatives and drones search earth and sky
all signs of life and death seemingly nonexistent
as if nothing ever really happens here




april two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Poetry and tagged , ,
12 Apr 2018
11 Comments

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

Posted in Nature, Poetry and tagged , , ,
11 Apr 2018
6 Comments

reflections in black and white


there’s much mystery in the theory
and to prove or disprove
has no bearing on outcomes
outrageous or otherwise

what is that you say
oh it is nothing I reply
it’s just a theory I have about
what it takes to make it out alive

as I return to my research
you regress back in time
discovering the inverse square law
examining how past photographs
infiltrate your pluperfect thoughts




april two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Poetry and tagged , ,
10 Apr 2018
2 Comments

tip-toeing


opposition forces positioned themselves
in the most peculiar way
so much so nobody seemed to notice
exactly who they were
or what they were doing

last fall foot soldiers were ordered to plant
thousands of tulip bulbs in the minefields
but not all that went in came back alive
and the ones who did rested uncomfortably
for the rest of their lives

by the time spring solstice arrived
the enemy had mysteriously withdrawn
and all the local children awakened with smiles
welcoming the newly risen sun
proceeding to run cautiously
through her once glorious meadows




april two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Nature, Poetry, War Poems and tagged , , ,
09 Apr 2018
12 Comments

land of radioactive blossoms


the truth started long before jesus
and the common era
crowd obsessed with lynching anyone
they could never quite
understand

if you can’t hang the one you’ve
got your finger on
find their next of kin
they’re pretty much one in the
same

passersby and bystanders turn a blind eye
just like good old peter once did
(god how we never do learn)

land of paradise is nowhere to be found
not in these here parts
and that place where milk and honey
flow freely
well that’s just some fairy tale etched upon
stone

though the flowers growing in disputed lands
can be quite beautiful
somewhere along the line
they simply become part of the battlefield
buried in the past with inevitable
probability of resurrecting
some warm midsummer
day




april two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Dogma, Poetry, War Poems and tagged , ,
08 Apr 2018
10 Comments

spellbound


evening breeze clearing the way
moonlight filtering past skeletal trees
there’s a distant voice calling my name
asking me to surrender

familiar stars appear behind clouds
down below bridges are burning
smoke rising blinding the horizon
reminding me to surrender

heartbeats like whispering winds
slowly fading and breathless
meandering thoughts refocusing
telling me to surrender




april two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

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

santa ana winds


there is desperation in the wind
causing fires to spread
and lonely thoughts to cave in
good lord handing out hail marys
like there is no tomorrow

it’s 4:30 in the morning
and you tell yourself the sun
may never rise again
and somehow you forgive yourself
finally resigned to fall asleep




april two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Micropoetry, Poetry and tagged , , ,
06 Apr 2018
4 Comments

barn burning


pinewood boards on front porch
need a good cleaning
not to mention a few replacement nails

your mother’s mother used to sit there
rocking on the boards
spitting on spiders and such
just like eastwood used to do
idling back and forth on restless stallion

we’re not selling this house
not anytime soon
and we’re going to fix her up
and bring her back to life
just like nineteen ninety-nine

out back there’s a fire burning
horses bolting out of the stalls
grandma shouting at the hired hands
to hurry up and shut the doors
before they try to get back in




april two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Poetry and tagged , ,
05 Apr 2018
11 Comments

buried alive


it’s springtime in this sad little
corner of the world
where lemon seeds struggle
to germinate
and once colorful tulips decide
this is not their year

it’s cold and wet outside
or so I’ve heard over the airwaves

it takes little effort not to look
outside these shaded windows
except of course when sirens scream by
followed by dogs barking
and gunshots going pop pop pop

there is no internet connection here anymore
I ripped it out of the wall weeks ago

ever since I’ve been fingerpainting by day
and rummaging through wine cellar by night
humming petty songs and determined
to finish off the cask of amontillado




april two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

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

catching the last train out of town


I can’t catch my breath
nor can I see
what is it you’ve done to me

I’ve not had a cigarette
in over a century
but oh my how I still crave them

I once believed you taught me
all there is to know
but you proved me wrong (again)
by setting me free

there’s nothing quite like
catching the last train out of town
waning gibbous arising

long ago you said I’m only human
but now we both know
there’s more to this story




april two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Poetry and tagged ,
03 Apr 2018
24 Comments

falling stars


I’m no closer to being found than I was
a year or decade or lifetime ago
yet I continue to pick up words and
rearrange them in ways unimaginable

along the way I often get the shit
kicked out of me by unnamed sources
and while sometimes I pretend to like it
truth is I never do

there are these places inside your head
you often forget how to find
isolated places where stars are
bright and perfectly aligned
dying to be wished upon as they
race by in rarefied darkness





april two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Poetry and tagged , ,

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