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poetry by j matthew waters

Archive for the tag “poem”

alien illuminations


I’m finished seeking forgiveness
will instead focus on
the power of forgiving others
before it’s too late

there is this illumination
glowing within the soul
needing to burst out
and chart a brand new course

solitude is much different
than loneliness
whether lost at sea or
mapping brand new constellations

though familiar with connecting dots
these stars shine differently
leaving you strangely amazed
now that you are finally free





october two thousand seventeen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

uncommon denominator


not everyone can be right so by default
all of us must be wrong


and so by nature we are born imperfect
bound by laws of the land
whether raised by good samaritans
or pack of wolves

leaders come and leaders go
and while few have managed
to make some sort of difference
it is wise to duck and run from the rest
from their abusiveness of the very institutions
having sworn to love and serve

yet there is much light to be found
outside the very door
attempting to keep you in the darkness
indeed it would be a waste
should you chose not open it



october two thousand seventeen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

to return as rose of any color


this place runs like a machine
or so weary migrants are told
especially when those in charge
are nowhere to be found

during downtimes god relaxes
inside art studio painting blue skies
high above snowy mountaintops
or conjuring up deadly vortices
tormenting defenseless islands
and populated coastlines

there are plenty of places to hide
but nowhere to run
unless of course getting
caught in the action
is all you have in mind

who will pick me up when I fall
or better yet
toss me back into the machinery
so that I may try one more time





october two thousand seventeen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

digging up dirt on a sunday afternoon


I wasn’t looking for anything
which was the whole point

out of the blue I discovered the knowledge
I thought I had acquired over the years
has been with me all along

year by year and one by one
I give up that which was given to me
whether I had wanted it or not
whether I had loved it
or hated it
or felt entirely indifferent toward it

there is truth and there is trust
neither quite like the other
but both touchable and tastable
as fleeting as death itself

and so when I am busily digging
not looking for anything in particular
I find myself uncovering
that which is worth dying for





october two thousand seventeen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

macy’s thanksgiving day parade


an ordinary autumn day
colorful trees swelling like a piñata
stretching to reach a bright
and amazingly beautiful blue sky
pretty pink pigs with angel wings
noisily floating overhead



october two thousand seventeen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

california breaking away


and finally the fires extinguished
themselves
giving way to rains and
eventually floods
chasing ants and jesus freaks
to higher ground

and from the heavens angels
watch amusingly
as noah takes up residence
outside beverly hills
repairing his ark
gradually garnering attention





october two thousand seventeen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Multitasking Conqueror


I was sitting in this Internet Café
that place everyone said
you couldn’t get a seat

I had thought I had accomplished
some meaningful feat
but turns out was a nonevent in the
grand scheme of things

Internet exposes me first hand
horrors of natural disasters and war
of poverty and unspeakable atrocities
the great god himself looking overhead
neither condoning nor condemning
but positively commandeering the
power to my laptop





october two thousand seventeen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

alive and well at twenty-one


she came to visit for a few hours
on a sunday afternoon

it was a blustery but sunny day
wind chimes sounding off loud and clear
inside toasty sunroom

she got up from the sofa
holding teacup below her chin
gazing out south facing windows

“it’s a shame your garden’s dying
it was so beautiful last time I was here”

(to her everything is dying so I just let it go)

I didn’t have the heart to tell her
the garden turned twenty-one this year
and is very much alive and well





october two thousand seventeen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

open doors on the streets of paris


how the streets shine at night
after an all day rain
lost in the city of lights
you walk for hours on end

this language is not your own
but translates easily into
living and breathing poetry
complementing misty air

there is warmth in the most
unimaginable places
but somehow you manage
to find temporary solace

you arrive here as planned
but become lost over time
your final words a resting place
recorded for all to hear





october two thousand seventeen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

on call on a friday night


how do I replace all the friends
I’ve lost along the way
at what point will it be the end
of the road for me

it’s silly to dwell on such thoughts
but sometimes ego
unexpectedly takes over
suggesting I fall to my knees

road signs keep cropping up
further and further from the city
expanding the time it takes
to find inner peace

meanwhile I sit idly by
counting virtual dollars in the
palm of my hand
waiting somewhat impatiently





october two thousand seventeen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

sisters feeding robins


oh my how robin sings his sad sad song
perched atop window sill on monastery hill
long after summer suns and autumn breezes

flocks of butterflies sailed off overnight
leaving behind memories suppressed by the sun
abducting yesterday’s rainbow colored skies

candles give light to hallways and kitchens
chaste sisters making chocolates and caramels
tidbits for thrushes certain to arise come spring





october two thousand seventeen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

turning clouds into monsters


november monsters hide behind october bushes
their passive aggressive breathing giving rise
to a once low lying morning fog

there is passion beyond the hills
if you can ever get past progressive barriers
whether physically constructed or simply imagined

shallow heartbeats gradually acquire momentum
approaching like a lackadaisical thunderstorm
clapping along a spacious prairie

of course you’ve been here before
countless times either in this world or the next
perhaps ages ago when monsters could be trusted



october two thousand seventeen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

telephone lines


they spoke to one another by way of make-believe telephone lines
not at all like two tin cans connected by a piece of string
stretching from easter island to omnipresent moon

blessed is she who shakes off advances and terms of endearment
instead recognizing all the misfits on the receiving end
reinventing children’s games with wild abandon

and of course with wild abandon comes boisterous laughter
speeding faster than sound through those make-believe lines
the ones stretched from sea to belly of waning gibbous



october two thousand seventeen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

deeper and deeper into the night


it’s almost seven o’clock and we’re
still waiting on shakespeare

everyone seems to know that
son-of-a-bitch is always late
and as far as the host is concerned
scheduled poetry readings will begin
with or without guest of honor

this laid back lingering gathering
seems to be primed on local brews
and/or pumpkin infused caffeinated beverages
quite a few rotating in and out the front door
seen huddling and smoking in front of
big picture window

it’s mid october and so far there
are plenty of tricks and an occasional treat

nobody is about to abandon the notion
that good old bill and his entourage
will eventually appear
(as contractually agreed upon)
but meanwhile all give thanks
to this peaceful venue
and sincere thanks to every poet
stepping up to the mic



october two thousand seventeen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

agrarian muses and snow-covered ponds


how your angels sing the blues
atop tarnished ivory arches
interrupting your dreams by
bringing back consciousness

it’s just one more morning waking
up to sunshine and isolation
a single spot on google earth
a farmhouse
a mile in from gravel road aptly
named rabbit run

though unsure how you arrived
you’ve no intention of straying far
and on days to come find yourself
roaming fields in dead of winter
not a soul around for miles
and miles and miles



october two thousand seventeen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

blackbirds biding their time


twilighty on an october evening
cats a’meowing and quiet moon
maybe making an appearance

I’ve seen you in this race before
maybe it was ten years ago
or maybe it was yesterday

these pockmarks on my cheeks
they don’t mean a thing
I regret you ever saw them

those moons we rarely see
orbiting worlds we barely know
absolutely belong here

and why you decided to go
long before your time
has everything to do with them





october two thousand seventeen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

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