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poetry by j matthew waters

Archive for the tag “poem”

03 Sep 2017

walking on water


june has come and gone
but the moon is here to stay
though at times not obviously

poor june dismissed without reason
cast away into the heavens
searching for twins and crabs
on the far side of mercury
perhaps never to return

there was no fanfare
here in middle america
perennial fog hiding the moon
for years on end
frustrating a nomadic people
with nothing left to worship

meanwhile there is news
a new sea forms and foams
somewhere in middle africa
where virgin sands appear
(out of a nowhere)
a newborn sent from god
baptized into chaos



september two thousand seventeen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Dogma, Poetry and tagged , , , | Leave a comment
02 Sep 2017
13 Comments

the day the music played


fire and rain baby
that’s where it’s at
whether it be on vinyl
or flatscreen tv

you said you were just
gonna borrow it
but years went by
and you never did give it back
no you never did
(you never did)

there are no apologies
necessary
I’ve since moved on
now that compact discs
have arrived
not to mention youtube
and itunes
partaking in yoo-hoo
or root beer

friday night it was late
and I had no place to go
except for quietly tapping my foot
fire and rain
playing in the background



september two thousand seventeen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Poetry and tagged , , ,
01 Sep 2017
12 Comments

first thing in the morning


come rain or come shine
he counts the steps from bedroom
to kitchen
first peeking inside the icebox
then checking the cupboard

sometimes he’s dressed and
other times not
but usually it’s before dawn
as he meanders about
like a blindman
like a sleepwalker
like a creek lost in the woods

he has no sense of hunger
but his hearing is impeccable
and always he yearns to listen
to anything unfamiliar
but sadly settles for a cup of tea
preferably black or green or red

when the whistles blows
he knows the pain will soon subside
and from there it matters not
whether rain or sunshine arrives



september two thousand seventeen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Poetry and tagged , ,
31 Aug 2017
10 Comments

commissioned to the colorful meadow


when I reached one hundred years
there were no celebrations
for the world was at war yet again

though unable to wield bow & arrow
I could still shoot a rifle
I tried to explain to the chieftain
but he pushed me aside
and called for the next in line

three days passed
and I showed up yet again
this time with shovel in hand
explaining how a man my age
could still dig graves

he kissed me on both cheeks
first this one and then the next
followed by shouting out
my marching orders




august two thousand seventeen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Nature, Poetry, War Poems and tagged ,
30 Aug 2017
9 Comments

rising little star


what don’t you know
you’ve already been told before
about those bits and pieces
picked up via satellite or
ground-based microwaves

oh my pretty rising star
where have you gone
even the clouds have parted
                (in hopes of)
welcoming your return

people throughout the centuries
(from this land
                and many others)
are buying one way tickets
to get a glimpse of
what they missed the first time
you sailed away





august two thousand seventeen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Poetry and tagged , ,
29 Aug 2017
8 Comments

an existence poem


consider the rose bush

it may certainly grow wild
and flourish without human eyes
ever able to enjoy

of course it may also be tamed
tendered by clipping and
feeding and taking pictures
preparing for the cold by cutting
back in late autumn
waiting for its resurrection come spring

motion pictures move both ways
but mostly forward
and mostly quickly
until caretaker is either naturally
gone or simply taken out

suddenly the manicured rose bush
is left to fight the winter alone
while the (aforementioned) wild one
probably continues to flourish





august two thousand seventeen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Nature, Poetry and tagged , ,
28 Aug 2017
7 Comments

bird nest


what I saw in the bird’s nest
I could not describe
but the memory of it would
remain with me all my days

there is much to learn
balancing desire and need
focusing on big picture
while paying attention
to details that matter

the inevitable doesn’t arrive
at a premium or discount
it just lingers there
like a delicate fog cowering

and so the nest lives on
(just as you do)
photographed and
painted and
talked about in other languages
described in ways that could not
possibly be you

and so you retreat
realizing there is more to learn





august two thousand seventeen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Birds, Poetry and tagged , ,
27 Aug 2017
10 Comments

postcards to mother


I told my mother I keep all my
photographs in the cloud now

I knew she didn’t quite understand
though I sensed on the other end
she was nodding

what if you want to print them
she asks me
and share them with others

well I can certainly share without
printing them I say

not with me
you certainly may not




august two thousand seventeen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Poetry and tagged , , ,
26 Aug 2017
10 Comments

promise not to die


there was scattered lightness
creeping through low lying clouds
but not a witness to testify

darkest part of morning awakens
most everybody asleep inside boxes
lost inside other lands
or sleepcrawling upside down

wake up wake up barn owl cries
mocking the mockingbird
circling rustic citadel
once holding some significance

sometimes scattered lightness
never materializes
and there is this retreatment of sorts
like closing your eyes
promising to never open them again





august two thousand seventeen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Birds, Dreams, Nature, Poetry and tagged ,
25 Aug 2017
2 Comments

fire on the mountain


boys will be strong and
when nudged in the right direction
will likely strike gold

they show up every morning
before first light
decked in cotton shirts
and denim pants
leather tool belts attached
to their slender waists
shovel and pickaxe in hand

lightning strikes mountaintops
electricity penetrating
far underground
carving out new veins
fortunes sure to be gained

there is but one entrance
but once inside
treasures are boundless
escape routes endless





august two thousand seventeen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Poetry and tagged , ,
24 Aug 2017
4 Comments

jericho dreaming


walls of flowering vines
climbing brick and mortar
stitch and sewing along the way

whatever bends or breaks
before and after winter
can surely be repaired or
worst case replaced

bracing for the worst
no longer fits the bill
not as long as circular life forces
unpredictably barrel along
nearby sea and then some

walls have long crumbled
though flowering vines remain
uplifted by an acceptance
to this day unexplained





august two thousand seventeen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Dogma, Poetry and tagged ,
23 Aug 2017
2 Comments

august morning noon and night


how long this will last
easily resolves itself
these cool august nights

there is no mood here
shut down for the summer
except for green grass
growing incrementally taller

where there were once battles
now reside flowering meadows
rainbow colors stretching skyward

and what was once thought
to be paradise
is unable to reconcile itself
reduced to ashes
starting anew





august two thousand seventeen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Nature, Poetry and tagged ,
22 Aug 2017
4 Comments

hello how are you


she had it so her cell rang
like an old fashioned telephone
kind you’d find on carol burnett

she lost it in the cushions last night
and we found it long after she was gone

don’t pick that up he said
it’s probably that bitch again

if it’s that bitch wouldn’t she just text

yes I suppose she would
but don’t pick it up anyway
she’s not taking any more calls





august two thousand seventeen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Poetry and tagged , ,
21 Aug 2017
6 Comments

multiple choice ultimatum


there was this contract
I wasn’t supposed to see
but I found out about it
accidentally when searching
for some contraband

smoking a cigarette and
working on my fourth guinness
roommate enters stage right
stoned no doubt
and most likely packing

a single sheet of typewritten paper
lay on the hardwood floor
refolded many times with two signatures
scrawled in blue above the footer

did you find what you were looking for
he says to me unemotionally

not really I say
that’s why I’m drinking guinness

though playing it cool I can see
he’s nervous inside
heartbeats pinging my hearing

what do you want me to do now he says

I want you to tear up that contract
either that or take me out right now
or better yet bring me all in



august two thousand seventeen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Poetry and tagged ,
20 Aug 2017

church bells will be ringing


eleven times church bells were ringing
rising moon faintly shining on new year’s night
slender and somber and silently emerging

brothers in arms assembled in town’s square
followed by women and children and elders
all awakened by resoundingly familiar tolling

they’ve been called to march down this road before
paved over many times by many generations
redefining a past that refuses to be changed

though all the statues have long been raised
resilient memories are much harder to replace
stamped inside stories unwritten and retold



august two thousand seventeen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in In the City, Poetry and tagged , | Leave a comment
19 Aug 2017

beyond mesopotamia


it’s simple to snap a number four pencil
anyone of us could do it at any given moment

odds are slim to be sure since most of us
would simply give it a good sharpening

but those who wouldn’t think twice
they’ve been failed by far too many
flanked on either their left or their right

some say hatred is something learned
but truth be told has lingered in our DNA
well before the dawn of civilization

we’ve been playing catch up ever since
scratching out commandments and
condemning the damned before ever born



august two thousand seventeen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Nature, Poetry and tagged , , | Leave a comment

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