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poetry by j matthew waters

Archive for the tag “poem”

22 Mar 2016
3 Comments

deathly viral


a sickness hangs around
undisturbed
sublime like the slender moon
infrequently bright
but destined to burst

silent cells work below
the surface
tunneling effectively
like eager termites
building a kingdom

monitors intersect
the chatter
faint but riding the airwaves
like a vampire bat
preparing to strike

emerging past the shadows
bulging lights
expose the contagion
airborne and fatal
blighting whole cities


march two thousand sixteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in In the City, Poetry, War Poems and tagged , , , ,
20 Mar 2016

Oh thee of little faith


I didn’t come here to be blindsided
punched in the face
and kicked in the gut
all while trying to stand back up

I didn’t come here to starve to death
nor wander god-forsaken lands
once ruled by holy men
who failed so miserably

I didn’t come here to be ridiculed
for my beliefs
whether original thoughts
or inherited by a people struggling
to break free from persecution

I didn’t come here to be dominated
intimidated or bound
detained in a cage
and held for ransom
praying to be redeemed
by my lady of mercy


march two thousand sixteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Dogma, Poetry and tagged , , , | Leave a comment
18 Mar 2016

the beauty of the endless sky


first the brooks and the streams
and the creeks evanesced

suddenly going back to the well
was not an option

endless skies displayed the prettiest
of the blues in no particular order
ghost white and cerulean
ultramarine and
robin’s egg

the beauty of the skies continued on
for weeks and then months
unnoticed by the inhabitants searching
to quench their thirst

and soon thereafter the rivers ran dry
and the oceans receded

the mass migration had begun


march two thousand sixteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Nature, Poetry and tagged , , , | Leave a comment
17 Mar 2016
4 Comments

generations reborn


fire was in order
to control the weeds
little did they know roots
have an empire of their own
conspiring below the surface

earth-shaking machines
pounded past the concrete
instantly peeling back
layers of history that took
centuries to build

civilizations clash
before our very eyes
whether on this continent
or another planet
certain to be conquered

arms races don’t exist
where love has taken hold
where destructive forces
so very long ago
descended into the sheen


march two thousand sixteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Poetry and tagged , ,
15 Mar 2016
10 Comments

she had been there


the midnight train arrived early tonight
and I was running an hour late

I wasn’t even sure if she was on it
all I had was a telegram and no promise
sent from chicago to philadelphia
a few short days ago

I walked into the station and found a place
to stand still
   winded
       catching my breath
loosening my neck like an eagle

so it seemed all the baggage handlers
were now focused on eager
departing passengers

I took the telegram out of my back pocket
unfolded and slowly breathed it in

after breathing out
I inhaled a second time
     and closed my eyes


march two thousand sixteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Poetry and tagged , ,
13 Mar 2016
6 Comments

petroleum jelly


waiting to get her hair done
Mabelline perused a fashion magazine
safely sitting alone expressionless in the corner

behind either of her shoulders
large windows invited a southern sun
shining brightly but not packing much punch

she lifted her eyes and turned
spotted a red sports car speeding by
shouting ‘look at me I’m burning gasoline’

jack hammers pounded nearby
dismantling streets menaced with pot holes
slightly shaking the tile floor beneath her feet

suddenly stirred with unusual thoughts
she imagined a burglar broke into her home
carelessly rummaging through her medicine cabinet


march two thousand sixteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Poetry and tagged , , ,
11 Mar 2016
19 Comments

teatime in the white room


the teacups were so small
but not as small
as the table and chair I sat upon
with my newfound
furry friends who chattered
nonstop and laughed
like animated mice

I sat pretty as you please
thumb and forefinger
holding up the flowery teacup
pinky sticking straight up
and smiling like a lunatic
at my mysteriously
fabulous companions



march two thousand sixteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Poetry and tagged , , ,
08 Mar 2016
5 Comments

winds of change


it’s not a job
but a livelihood
digging holes in the ground
and filling them back in
marching behind foot soldiers
a shovel for a rifle

the long grass past that hill
the one taken back
over a year and fortnight ago
grows wildly bright
naturally fertilized by both
allies and enemies

I wonder what I’ll become
when the world
embraces reconciliation
wonder what vocation
I could possibly embrace
to honor those still alive


march two thousand sixteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Poetry, War Poems and tagged , , ,
06 Mar 2016
8 Comments

those good old days


they sit in the great room
watching golf with the sound
turned up rather loudly
commenting how none of the
golfers have visible tattoos
like so many other athletes

what’s this cloud they talk about
she queries
pointing at the microsoft commercial
airing on the television

what’s that he shouts back

the cloud she repeats
what is this cloud all about

beats the hell out of me he says

but I thought you knew everything
she says

for the last time he says
I once knew everything
now all I know is jack squat

picking up the remote
he turns the volume up even louder


march two thousand sixteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Poetry and tagged , ,
04 Mar 2016
7 Comments

an invasion of sorts


freedom means nothing
unless opportunities live
outside the body

body snatchers
I have no time for
but those mind snatchers
I want to meet them
outside my moonlit window

those dreams you keep having
the ones keeping you up at night
how long do you think
they’ve been keeping you alive
and how long before
you can convince them
to take me with you


march two thousand sixteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Poetry and tagged , , , ,
01 Mar 2016

preparing for the unknown


he died in Vatican City on vacation
courtesy of a one-way ticket
purchased by an unknown agent

everyone seemed to know him
whether in Hollywood or
Mumbai or Ho Chi Minh City

born to the slums of Lebanon
it was a miracle he ever set sail
beyond the Mediterranean

his most youthful days gave way
to urban sand lots on Saturdays
playing host to cricket or fútbol
or american baseball

without a home there is no heart
especially before going to war
or so he wrote
about being reborn
about taking Waterloo by storm
about stepping out of the theatre
and coming back to earth
for that
once-in-a-lifetime pilgrimage


march two thousand sixteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Dogma, Poetry, War Poems and tagged , , | Leave a comment
28 Feb 2016
5 Comments

my sweet lady in pink


the apple lives large
atop the head of tells
or so the story goes

bad ones get tossed from
beneath bridges by
witness protected trolls

I’ll be damned if you can’t
find a bad seed in this
eight by eight orchard

gravity knows no bounds
not as long as dear Isaac
has anything left to say

fleshy and newly picked
still life object shines
brightly upon teacher’s desk


february two thousand sixteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Nature, Poetry and tagged , , ,
27 Feb 2016
5 Comments

Cupid’s wrist rocket


Tension in my arm stays tight
but I’m strong for my age
a fence jumper
and tree climber
a better shooter than William Tell

I thought I knew myself
better than this
nonetheless always find myself
transgressing with every
errantly blown kiss

I may not be the original
but I possess two sharp eyes
and even sharper arrows
let loose from treetops
piercing the loneliest of hearts


february two thousand sixteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Poetry and tagged , ,
23 Feb 2016
9 Comments

taking advantage


this never gets easy
this guessing game with no
real answers
written on the back of cards

how many times do I
just get in the car
looking for something
that doesn’t exist

how many times do I
open a door
just because I think
somebody is knocking

that thing around the corner
it’s pretty fucking scary
some of the time
and sometimes it’s more than scary
and that’s when you understand
just how alive you really are

so I hear this weekend is
supposed to be super nice
I suppose I should take advantage
of the situation while I still can


february two thousand sixteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Poetry and tagged , , ,
20 Feb 2016
5 Comments

like wolves in new york city


he said his name was jesus
and I started following him
up the jersey shore
and though I’d never been
there before
I felt like I was in the right place

there were dozens of us
musicians and poets
landscapers and local artisans
walking side by side
and consumed by
one man without possessions

despite threatening winds
we trekked northward
toward sandy hook
a bay he preached about
days earlier when the
sun was much brighter

I can take you no further
he went on to say
(my days are always numbered)
and it was then and there
he set us free
like sheep amongst wolves
howling in new york city


february two thousand sixteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Dogma, Poetry and tagged , ,
19 Feb 2016
5 Comments

figure painting


i could see you
out of the corner of my eye
my angel
wrapped in her own
feathery blanket

uninspired for over an hour
i picked up my brush
and hurriedly
lashed out at the paper tacked
to the easel
scratching our plumes
creating locks like thin-haired pasta
eyes ocean blue
half-open and watery
lips closed and
relaxed like a worn-out child

she did not move
and did not make a sound
while everyone else
looked the other way

satisfied
i picked up my things
and waved goodbye
told everyone i’d see them
again next week
especially
my tired little friend


february two thousand sixteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Dogma, Poetry and tagged , , ,

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