jdubqca

poetry by j matthew waters

Archive for the tag “poem”

05 Dec 2016
11 Comments

like a canary in a cage


anyone can write the monday blues
how the fog maybe lifts by noon
smartphones unable to upgrade
all on their own

the list grows longer whether it’s
monday or not
liberty or death is
(a matter of) life and breath
invisible wounds like words
perhaps self-inflicted or
suspiciously accidental

there is an artist who really
knows for sure
but they aren’t playing in any
kind of rhythm and blues band

oh no they ain’t singing
like a canary in a cage
dreaming of the sky




december two thousand sixteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Birds, Poetry and tagged , , , ,
04 Dec 2016
4 Comments

keeping watch on cold nights


individual victories are few
for those unheard voices
having restricted choices
and few precious resources

you know I don’t have to be here
he reassured himself
keeping warm from layered clothing
mentally digging in for the night

mercenaries from the past
march alongside enemies of the state
chanting slogans in ancient languages
only few understand



december two thousand sixteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in History, Poetry and tagged , , , , ,
03 Dec 2016
6 Comments

rapid eye movement


trees speak in your sleep
like those three dogs
chained up down the street
scratching at the aluminum fence
and digging holes in
all the wrong places

trees speak in your sleep
using the wind and
birds and insects as carriers
scratching out memos
and pontificating about the evils
of the new world order

trees speak in your sleep
sharing secrets from the shire
hosting a murder of crows
gathering above the creek
whispering incessantly
fearing you may awaken



december two thousand sixteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Dreams, Nature, Poetry and tagged , , ,
02 Dec 2016
6 Comments

she comes from within


chain smoking and
having pie for lunch
my lovely tour guide
never stops talking

there are others
vying for her attention
her knowledge of the land
and the lore it contains

the fruit of the vine
grows year ‘round here
the mountainous region
much older than the hills

the bakery at the next stop
sells cherry pie slices
for 500 drachmas
I place my order for two

motivation can be instilled
she would often say
but true inspiration
she must come from within



december two thousand sixteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Poetry and tagged , , ,
30 Nov 2016
2 Comments

peeking around the next corner


it seems like everyone is hell bent on
picking a fight
but by everyone I don’t mean you or me

sometimes I want you to make me think
and other times I don’t

I’m not sure which is worse
pretending the white elephant
isn’t actually pink
or acknowledging all is fair
in lust and taxation

I didn’t come here looking
for a fight
and neither did you
so I keep on convincing myself
that’s what keeps us separated
from whatever it is
that’s hurting



november two thousand sixteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Poetry and tagged , , ,
28 Nov 2016

who’s paying for these anyway


he never understood there are consequences
for his actions
especially as a child

had the good doctor never mentioned it
the concept would have remained
alien to his thinking man’s brain

I always thought we live in a society
where we need evidence for such claims
he remembered telling her
uncrossing his legs and looking away

she never much cared for his constant
avoidance at eye contact
but it was usually worth the wait
once he finally decided to come back around

nothing seems to bother me anymore
since mother passed (he went on to say)

I don’t know about you but that isn’t working
for me



november two thousand sixteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Poetry and tagged , , , | Leave a comment
27 Nov 2016
6 Comments

the rain falls perfectly in late november


the rain falls perfectly in late november
neither hard nor soft
simply there and bringing awareness
to practically everything
many questioning their lives behind
closed doors and shuttered windows
on the laziest of sunday afternoons

the rain falls perfectly in late november
either reminding you of a
specific place in time you
wished remained suspended
or making you forget altogether
recent distractions repeatedly tugging
at the fabric slowly covering your eyes



november two thousand sixteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Poetry and tagged , , , ,
26 Nov 2016
7 Comments

déjà vu and me


I am tired but I wake up anyway

I don’t dare dream of showering for fear
that I may never get out

yesterday I had hypothermia
at least that’s what I thought
but every time I took my temperature
it said I had a fever

I don’t play the french lottery
but for some reason
I keep checking the numbers

I used to dream of blackbirds
screaming at the sunrise
but now all I get are sunsets
exploding exactly like last night



november two thousand sixteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Dreams, Poetry and tagged , , ,
25 Nov 2016

tutoring on the southside


identities defined by society
broadcasted on media
country folks uninterested
understanding why children
struggle with reading or arithmetic

I was sitting in their house
playing mario brothers
and so many people
walked on by

who’s your white friend
someone asked my girlfriend
and I pretended not to hear
even though there was nothing
wrong with my spanglish

you know I told her
I’d never been on this side of
nineteenth street before
but I feel just as safe here
as I do anywhere else



november two thousand sixteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in In the City, Poetry and tagged , , | Leave a comment
23 Nov 2016
4 Comments

Getting his motor going


Billy got a gun
it’s been something he’s been
muttering about for years

He didn’t know what to do with it
once he got it
so he stashed it somewhere
(in the house)
and returned to his nondescript life

Billy got a gun
because he didn’t feel safe
but knowing he had one now
stashed somewhere in the house
made him feel like he could do anything
he set his motoring mind to



november two thousand sixteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Poetry and tagged , , , ,
22 Nov 2016
6 Comments

god is in the wine (and the wire)


the light above me starts
humming and pulsating
distractedly
and it was then I realized
some higher power was communicating to me
telling me how there is so much more
to learn about myself

down below in the basement
inside the fuse box
hot wires pass over neutral ones
arcing into obscurity
sending cross currents
to the nearest known light



november two thousand sixteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Dogma, Poetry and tagged , , , ,
21 Nov 2016
3 Comments

going hungry


I lay perfectly still on a fold-out cot
breathing shallowly
staring at a yellow light bulb
screwed into the ceiling

my hallucinations seem as real as flattened
homes in once peaceful neighborhoods
as sickening as makeshift hospitals
targeted and destroyed
as frightening as displaced little ones roaming
buckled streets inside urban war zones

exhausted and in a cold sweat
I’m visited by an attendant who takes my pulse
patting my forehead with a damp paper towel

she encourages me take a sip of water
my lips cracked and thin and stinging when
pressed against the thick glass

she rises to her feet and crosses her arms
looking at the black and white footage
streaming from the television screen

she picks up the tray of untouched food
and walks away
shaking her head like she always does



november two thousand sixteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in In the City, Poetry, War Poems and tagged , , ,
19 Nov 2016
5 Comments

Little Bo Peep’s Awakening


She wore a cotton dress on a warm
and sunny day
slightly off-white and sleeveless
complementing and accentuating
her light brown skin

He wore his casual Sunday best
strolling along
white button-down oxford shirt
starkly contrasting pleated charcoal slacks
creased perfectly

Sitting on park bench imagining
her breathing slows
her inner thoughts pressing on
unaware of sights and sounds passing by
before her eyes

From out of the fold he reappears
like a lost lamb
wandering most aimlessly
a blot on the vastness of her dreamscape
off-black yet bright



november two thousand sixteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Animals, Dreams, Poetry and tagged , , , , , ,
17 Nov 2016
1 Comment

catch and release


the weather turned midday
as a warmish sun gave way
to coldish clouds and variable winds

nearly knee deep in blackish
backwaters
rainbow trout suddenly start
striking at mini-jigs

hand and eye react instinctively
despite scattered thoughts
racing past
slippery rocks in river bed

patience is like an acquired taste
(you tell yourself)
best served in solitary confines

the cool waters gradually
drop in temperature
yet you continue to wade
further away
dead set on an eddying pool
silently calling your name



november two thousand sixteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Fishing, Nature, Poetry and tagged , , , , ,
15 Nov 2016
10 Comments

counting down the days


oh glorious night settle into darkness
and let me tell thee whom I give my life

I belong neither to sky above nor sea below
and from all accounts was burst forth from
scorpius some thirty-three light years ago

though my days on earth have been counted
on one thousand and one hands
it is a far cry to say this was ever my home
for the glory of goodness lives not here
but rather in a place and time that knows no end



november two thousand sixteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Poetry and tagged , , , ,
14 Nov 2016
8 Comments

involuntary reactions


the birds and the tigers
the polar bears
and the butterflies
they do not hate
no they do not hate

they may need to defend themselves
through violence or fleeing
but it is out of necessity that they
protect themselves selfishly

they may not understand
the world around them
like you or me
(or perhaps they understand it perfectly)
and while they may not think
before they act (like we are able to do)
they certainly never hate
no they never do

interestingly enough
they may react to the bulbous moon
just like me and you
only they do not make it an excuse
to hate for hatred’s sake
like too many of us often do



november two thousand sixteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Nature, Poetry and tagged , , , ,

Post Navigation

← Older Entries
Newer Entries →