jdubqca

poetry by j matthew waters

Archive for the tag “poem”

gas powered chainsaw


it takes some doing getting the motor going
pulling the cord countless times
fits and starts and sputtering dead
once and for all humming along
the little devil screaming and screeching
its angry teeth having its way with the
trunk of the fifteen foot crabapple
efficiently felling it straight to the earth




november two thousand nineteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Adrenaline


She knows my name though
we’ve never met
sprite or phantom or angel
whispering in my ear
saying things only I should know
desert spring or april snow

We’ve walked this path before
but it was centuries ago
strange how some things
never change

When I need her most
she’s far beyond my realm of thought
traveling by the speed of light
most likely saving someone else
leaving me breathing heavily
and spellbound




november two thousand nineteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

sunshine almost always


I could die before you
oh how would that be
how the tables
would have turned
whatever in the world
that means

we’ve talked about this
off and on again
names and numbers
as if really matters
keys and combinations
holding our collective breath

I could die before you
or vice versa
oh how we’ve talked
until the sweet sweet sun
rises and falls
far beyond our dying days




november two thousand nineteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

ever since I was young


there is much to remember and so much
more to forget
how we pick and choose what we will
butterflies in nets and fireflies
in mason jars
making sure they breathe
long enough to remember
this is only the beginning

old photograph in hand
it’s as if it was yesterday all over again
a moment in time immeasurable
in any earthly language
especially when considering
today might possibly be
the start of something beautiful

I’ve been here so many times
I’ve lost count
each time seemingly starting from scratch
a stark reminder the past
builds upon the past
while the present builds upon
possibilities




november two thousand nineteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

not a single one


november beckons differently
than all other lunar cycles
there are no lions or lambs
just sheer madness
whether it be for better or worse
or ‘til death do us part

there may be anniversaries
or birthdays or holidays
they take a back seat
to the reality of november
its unpredictability and certainty
of death and sex and taxes

not a single one is alike
varying by degrees immeasurable
even the moon knows not
what to do come november
either boasting pure beauty
or bashful like a hungry child




october two thousand nineteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

tug of war


I’ve secrets so old I’ve long forgotten
where they may be stashed

how I wanted to let you in
release clues as to my state of mind

I’ve been replaying childhood dreams
reawakening past events

if memory serves me right
there’s a trap door around every corner

sometimes I open it sometimes I don’t
the tug of war continues




october two thousand nineteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

the conservatory


I’ve been taking notes
casual observations
that tree is dying
and that one is healthy
will soon be taller than
a thousand stories

the queen wasp
outdid herself this year
somehow knowing
the winter will be long
ensuring her progeny
even greater success

I did the best I could
sealing all the cracks
and crevices in this
drafty conservatory
regulated by heat tape
and crafty ingenuity

as for the spiders
they are my friends
stealthily paralzying
their innocent victims
holding them hostage
forever and a day




october two thousand nineteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

beautiful are the fields


we’ve been here before
admiring this land of possibilities
minefields once again restored back to
their original condition
long before anyone ever set eye or foot
colorful fields described by word of mouth
to those who had no idea such beauty
existed in this contradictory world
descriptions eventually voice recorded
illustrated onto rock and paper and cloud
made especially for generations yet to come




october two thousand nineteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

iowa city sunset


the university resides on both
sides of the river
and for as long as I remember
there is nothing divisive
about this city

how many years have transpired
since finding myself recalling
bits and pieces of my stay there
of the many evenings relaxing
at the lagoon shelter house
the three of us sitting cross-legged on the deck
easily adjusting our attitudes
culminated by soundless fireworks
courtesy of a slowly descending sun




october two thousand nineteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

rapid eye movement


I don’t want to call home anymore
afraid nobody will answer

it just rings and rings and rings
reminding me of the days I lived there
a signal it was safe to sneak in
through the back porch door
quietly tip-toe up the stairs
and into the solitude of my bedroom

from there I can hear the telephone ring
and ring and ring in the other room
I yawn and turn over onto my other side
ignoring everything in the outside world
blue eyes blinking feverishly
reliving days and months and years
in a matter of mere minutes

hours later the southern sun shines
through a second story window
one I’ve known all too well




october two thousand nineteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

physical empathy


there was a problem with my shoulder
but the x-rays contradicted my word
and when the good doctor pressed here
and prodded there I responded
I could feel no discomfort

my parting orders included the words
‘acute pain’ and it was then I realized
the health system can be like a chameleon

and so I made an appointment with a
physical therapist and she
easily found my trouble spots
exposing them as true weaknesses
addressing and describing them in such a way
that left me smiling and nodding my head

as time went by I assured her
exercises and effort were making a difference
but I sensed she thought otherwise

and though she never called me a liar
she nonchalantly explained how the pain
in my shoulder would never go away
much like the weight placed upon this world




october two thousand nineteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

“as soon as I am able”


turn down the volume
and listen to the raccoon’s story
doc’s fingers resting on his wrist
counting beats per second
heart racing for good reason

nobody has the time
to take everything into account
so we condense his story
into a nineteen sixty-eight song
one we love to play over
and over again

some scars heal and
others simply live to tell another tale
much like that of good rocky’s revival




october two thousand nineteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Post Navigation

%d bloggers like this: