jdubqca

poetry by j matthew waters

Archive for the tag “poem”

19 Sep 2016
4 Comments

six thousand years and counting


as it turned out he was alive and well
resurfacing somewhere in carolina
taking up sun and counting the years

he made sure the money didn’t follow
redeployed somewhere offshore
far away from oil rigs and earthquakes

after wearing the crown all these years
incognito pro tem seemed fitting

walking the dog and swiping debit card
who the hell would have guessed

all the while cities continued to grow
melting pots boiling impatiently
fueled by remotely controlled triggers



september two thousand sixteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in History, In the City, Poetry and tagged , , , , ,
18 Sep 2016
12 Comments

the dragonfly’s calling


stitch and sew
your restless eyes
dragonfly hovers
keeping its cool

no bark no bite
mandibles chew air
swallowing suggestions
blown by the wind

water nymph no more
final metamorphosis
captures soul mate
perpetuating the cycle



september two thousand sixteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Micropoetry, Nature, Poetry and tagged , , ,
15 Sep 2016
9 Comments

in search of stars and mermaids


I stepped onto a rocket ship
hoping it would take me away
from all earthly woes

a couple hundred bucks seemed
like a fair trade toward becoming
more or less ungrounded

the view from the top supersedes
all things seen and unseen
no matter how fleeting
like a beauty queen

unstrapped and plummeting
supersonically
gravity fought the law and
contained me
inside an asylum disguised
as a yellow submarine
far below the oily surface



september two thousand sixteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Dreams, Poetry and tagged , , , , ,
13 Sep 2016
6 Comments

starving graffiti artist


downtown railroad cars
sit still in line like cows
waiting to get branded

cigarettes cost too much
but not a quart of malt liquor
or can of yellow spray paint

getting good day’s sleep
is critical for optimal performance
when working graveyard shifts

nomad apostles carry flashlights
and lighters and waxing moons
calling out on occasion to look out

not opposed to taking new requests
or collaborating on a tanker
there’s a preference for going solo
especially on kansas city southern




september two thousand sixteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in In the City, Poetry and tagged , , , , ,
12 Sep 2016
10 Comments

counting bodies like sheep


do not be nervous little ones
the world is not falling apart at the seams

I do not mean to lie but things are not
what they seem (to be)
in fact these happenings may just
be a figment of some lesser god’s
imagination

and those drums coming nearer
gaining ground even while you’re sleeping
what are they even doing here
and how did they earn privilege
to beat upon the children



september two thousand sixteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved


footote:
loosely based on song of similar
title by A Perfect Circle
A Perfect Circle youtube video

Posted in Poetry, War Poems and tagged , , ,
11 Sep 2016
4 Comments

hell freezes over


we can’t seem to get past
talking about the weather
how it lifts us up only
to tear us down
one day sipping apple-spiced tea
at café eden
the next trapped inside a
bomb shelter in aleppo

I say the weather is earth’s
spirit restless in its own creativity
slowly evolving and forever changing

you nod and look skyward
pointing at the clouds
roiling and attracting countless starlings

seeds affected by cosmic precipitation
you never know what may come next
perhaps a prophet or a prince
or a torrid dictator

ruthless storms continuously stir
inside boiling pots
reappearing as easy as they please
perpetuating change by destroying
everything in its path


september two thousand sixteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Nature, Poetry, War Poems and tagged , , ,
10 Sep 2016
10 Comments

She loves me she loves me not


I keep telling myself I don’t know you
practicing in the mirror
seeing myself bowing down
lowering myself to my knees
reaching out and pulling your
wrists toward my lips

You didn’t mean to leave your mascara
bleeding like black ink
on my hands and
down your rose-colored cheeks
my skin like a paper towel
absorbing it all in

Somehow I missed a perfect chance
to find a perfect paradise
located beyond the border
somewhere past the looking-glass
now scattered on the floor
broken into tiny little pieces


september two thousand sixteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Poetry and tagged , ,
07 Sep 2016
2 Comments

when nothing seems to stick


tossed into the air
it suddenly vanished
like a flying saucer

you yell “pull”
and watch the next one sail
your hands at your side

you have no pistol to draw
no scope on a rifle to peer through
there is nothing to pick up
nothing to hold on to
inconstant thoughts dart
and ricochet and deceive
while old ideas tug and
momentarily tarry before
disappearing again

you yell “pull” even louder
and there it goes
your last concrete object
heading toward the lone tree
lime-shaped and standing in the
glass-littered field
its kelly green leaves
covering every single branch
collectively heaving in relief


september two thousand sixteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Poetry and tagged , , ,
06 Sep 2016
6 Comments

the violin and the piano


their sound supersedes the
clamor and the simmering pot
not quite boiling
not quite understood

the floors mean nothing
since they’ve been replaced
replaced but not restored
never to be the same

appearing out of nowhere
like a silver moon in disguise
the music filters through
making my world come to life

the violin and the piano
still echo in these walls
comforting my sorrow
and giving me repose


september two thousand sixteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Poetry and tagged , , , , ,
04 Sep 2016
8 Comments

down but not out


sirens atop wooden poles
wail high and low throughout the city
slight breezes unable to move
tattered flags and worn out windsocks

beneath the dome dark and bloated
clouds float slowly and unnoticed
moving plainly like zeppelins hunting for
landmines on easter sunday

below ground microcosms evolve
instinctively and haphazardly
struggling to survive differently
afraid to breach the surface
lest there be light

like an unattended candle
nothing is capable of turning off
the sirens
and eventually
they will burn out all on their own


september two thousand sixteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in In the City, Poetry and tagged , ,
31 Aug 2016
4 Comments

it may as well be sci-fi


top secrets rarely travel in attaché
cases (this day and age)
but can easily be found
sitting on bar stools
hovering near confessionals
or wandering around cemeteries
or horse tracks or race tracks
rubbing elbows in governor mansions
carelessly or recklessly releasing
sublimity to the airwaves
to the sound waves
across ocean waves
intercepted and translated
and rebroadcasted (in high-definition)
becoming public knowledge
inside taprooms and coffee shops
offering free just-in-time wi-fi
and accepting amazon gift cards


august two thousand sixteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Poetry and tagged , ,
29 Aug 2016
5 Comments

beer cans and forget-me-nots


the beer cans used to be blue or
purplish-blue
but now they’re gold with a splash
of lavender…it’s all very confusing

I went to the grocery store to purchase
some stamps and a lottery ticket
and pick up a twelve pack of that
beer in gold cans and
lavender lettering

when I got home and walked into the house
(by way of the garage)
the dog stared at me from my favorite chair
his ears lit up like some stupid jack rabbit

oh son-of-a-bitch I say to the jack rabbit
I forget to pick me up
some of that damn beer


august two thousand sixteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Poetry and tagged , , , ,
28 Aug 2016
4 Comments

flying beyond the coastal meadow


he licked his thumb and stuck it
directly overhead
his eyes rolled back and calculating

and just then a wheatear
sitting atop a stone wall
takes to flight
leading the way

tiny feet trampled upon the greenest
of the greenest grass
at least three feet tall
tiny legs scissoring through the field
giving chase to the wheatear

cameras clicked and videos rolled
as the children from the bus
raced past the field
and onto the beach
and splashing into the ocean
the lone wheatear
flying past the lighthouse
gone but not forgotten


august two thousand sixteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Birds, Nature, Poetry and tagged , , ,
27 Aug 2016
7 Comments

Gone but not forgotten


I saw the light of the faintest star
settle inside your eyes
blinking to life possibilities from
little known places

when the faintest light cast
indelible marks on the surface
somewhat more meaningful
and magical images evolved
expanding from within

creation doesn’t stop when stars
set in the west
just as dreams never drown in light

and that little child of yours
separated from violent strikes
reaches for your love
ascending


august two thousand sixteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Dreams, History, Poetry and tagged , , ,
25 Aug 2016
9 Comments

thankful for what they had


they had a border collie
to keep the cows honest
barking enthusiastically
and always smiling

they had a rooster
occasionally unreliable when
rainy mornings drowned-
out cock-a-doodle-doos

they had silos and barns
and backyard sheds
wherein they protected
hopes and dreams
and amazing machinery

before suppertime they sat
in silence holding hands
thankful for what they had
praying for those who had not


august two thousand sixteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Poetry and tagged , , , ,
23 Aug 2016
2 Comments

messengers of love


there is just the one god
there shall be none of this
three-in-one nonsense
or some other silly notion
for without truly believing in the one
man will never love his brother
what he loves for himself
      while loving thy neighbor
        (as thyself)
remains the most daunting proposition
       (ever put to the test)
for well over two thousand years


august two thousand sixteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Dogma, Poetry and tagged , , , ,

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