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poetry by j matthew waters

Archive for the tag “poem”

16 Jul 2013
10 Comments

heart and soul – a poem for the weary


he walks alone
because he has no place
to go
yet he knows
as long as he keeps moving
the world will never slow down

he smiles because
he was told it would keep warm his soul
and he figured
that would be a good thing
in case his heart went cold

remembering is what
he does best
not the yesterday kind of remembering
but the kind
where you go way back when
the kind
that makes you smile
and makes your heart reminisce


july two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Poetry and tagged , , , , , , , , ,
14 Jul 2013
4 Comments

don’t let the clowns scare you


in the clouds the clowns
perform with their balloons
and wacky flowers
and superlative feet
making the children laugh and cry
leaving them wondering
why this world
is such a mysterious place

in the cloud memories
are stored so the children
can recall those days
of carelessness and glee
before forced into figuring out
how the clowns managed to
make this world
seemingly unforgettable



july two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Poetry and tagged , , , , , , , ,
12 Jul 2013
8 Comments

when time gets away


barely breathing
and unable to move
I imagine the sun
rising above
the endless hills

a simple incision
clears a path for a
laser-guided blade
to reshape my mind
and redefine my life

as I lay awakening
to blinding whiteness
the pain I once knew
vanished with time
that never existed



july two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Poetry and tagged , , , , , , , , ,
11 Jul 2013
2 Comments

Nothing but a Vestigial Drawing


Thousands of miles from home, viewing gardens
I’ve been meaning to plant, I sit and sketch
with charcoal on textured paper a perfect,
utopian presence like that place in Genesis.

The hotel makes me honestly welcomed
from the “Sirs” to the stars to the telephone
in the commode. In the drawing I see myself
never leaving, ever. I am drawn to be within

The shades of grass and green, contemplating
the reasons I should ever leave the stone
and glass and fabric and hospitality
that has enveloped me in this lofty balcony.

Below the waters are warm. The bodies
are near and brown, living out temporary
yet simple days, their imperfections hidden
beneath the moonlight, their conversations distant,

Calming and inviting. It takes almost nothing
to remove myself from a world a million miles
away; takes a conscious effort to check out
and return with nothing but a vestigial drawing.



original version penned nineteen ninety-eight
rewritten and recorded july two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Dreams, Poetry and tagged , , , , , , , ,
09 Jul 2013
2 Comments

yesterday’s news


the headlines don’t concern me
unless I’m in them
or someone I know
and then I want to have some input
regarding the font type
and the font size
and all that jazz

I could just see myself
being that guy behind
the glass office saying
listen here I need a story
and I think I need it yesterday
so you better deliver
or else you’ll be buying
milk and bread with food stamps

next thing I know that dead-beat writer
is sticking one of those
spy gun slash ballpoint pens
underneath my chin
telling me he’s more than willing
to blast me all the way to the front page
for just a little notoriety




july two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Poetry and tagged , , , , , , , , , ,
07 Jul 2013
11 Comments

if you can’t say anything nice


we went downtown
to have dinner at that fancy place
where you can eat outside
on the sidewalk
and observe the street traffic
and all the pretty people
and the pigeons
and bums
who live somewhere nearby

there were six of us
and I was probably the only one
who really didn’t want to eat outside
where the city’s best and worst would walk by
with their noses turned up
where street traffic with it’s unforgiving noise
emitted carbon vapors that drifted
past the sidewalk spotted with birdshit

I just sat there with a half smile on my face
drinking my drink through a straw
and twirling the umbrella stuck inside it
thinking it was best I not say anything
lest I’d spoil everybody’s fun


july two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in In the City, Poetry and tagged , , , , , , , , , , ,
06 Jul 2013
22 Comments

table for one


soft strings stream from the
ceiling speakers
slightly drowning out whispers
floating throughout the
openness of this place
its reverberations caressing the
flame of a single candle
centered atop a corner table
casting a dim light on a
sea of lost thoughts
where two once sailed as one


july two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Micropoetry, Poetry and tagged , ,
04 Jul 2013

ultra echo


self-inflicted physical pain
is nothing compared to
once abandoned realities
appearing out of the thinnest of air
unfurling into razor-sharp focus
and leaving you crippled
and crying
and praying for the comfort
of that long lost world
inside a world
inside a world
inside a world



july two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Poetry and tagged , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment
02 Jul 2013
8 Comments

protecting the witness


my innermost thoughts
became stolen and plastered
all over the web
my complex passwords compromised
for any novice hacker
to copy or cut and paste

within milliseconds
my childhood story went viral
via black and white videos
forcing me to step off the grid
and start a new life
as someone I once knew



july two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Poetry and tagged , , , , , , ,
30 Jun 2013
5 Comments

the second flight of the samaras


the industrious child spent
his morning picking up the fallen fruit
of the maple tree
placing them one or two or three at a time
into a plastic orange pail
as his mother sat on the glider
on the front porch
rocking the little one to sleep
comfortably in her arms
both bundled within a shawl

a cool breeze made the boy’s cheeks
as pink as the tulips that bloomed
nearly a month ago
and when the pail became filled
to his satisfaction he disappeared
into the house
only to reappear in a second story window
where he proceeded to pretend
a fleet of military choppers
converged behind enemy lines



june two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Nature, Poetry and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,
29 Jun 2013
10 Comments

happy hour


I felt like stepping out
but didn’t want to drink alone
so I texted Tommy to give me a call
but my phone lay silent

goddamn son-of-a-bitch

I powered up my new HDTV
but nothing was on
so I turned it off
and checked my phone again

nada – nothing – zip

I paged through my contacts
and speed dialed Randy
then Billy and then Reggie G
but nobody picked up

I walked into the kitchen
and opened the refrigerator
but I had forgotten to replace
the lamp and couldn’t see shit
but I reached in anyway



june two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Poetry and tagged , , , , , , , ,
28 Jun 2013
4 Comments

unlucky in love


he sits in his lazy boy chair
and yells at the umpire on TV who
keeps getting all the calls wrong
exhaling cheap cigar smoke
while putting down old style beer
in 12 ounce gulps

in the other room his partner
in crime fixes potato salad
to go with his pastrami on rye
saddened at the thought
mister james gandolfini
has left her lonely world



june two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Baseball, Poetry and tagged , , , , , , ,
23 Jun 2013
12 Comments

alive like the butterfly


the moment you start looking back
and analyzing every misstep
chances are you are not where
you want to be
and all the hopeless wishing in the world
will leave you even more wretched

consider the beauty of the butterfly
and ask yourself if your life isn’t worth
just as much
and maybe then you will understand
moving forward is the only option
with or without a migration map


june two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Nature, Poetry and tagged , , , , , , , , ,
23 Jun 2013
6 Comments

to catch a soul


I am trapped inside this virtual
world where judgments
are issued without warrant
and disenchanted encoders
sip on encrypted whiskey
while laughing silently

without notice shots of pain
stream down the sciatica river
where boys sit on rocks
and pretend to fish
with artificial bait
waiting to steal my soul


june two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Micropoetry, Poetry and tagged , , ,
22 Jun 2013
18 Comments

stepping stones


your garden is all grown up
said the daughter
to the old man as they
sat in front of the fire pit
listening to the wood talk

she remembered way back when
there were stepping stones
throughout the garden
and she would jump from one stone
to the next like you would
playing hopscotch

the stones were still there
camouflaged beneath the jungle
barely noticeable amongst the greenery
blossoming a spectrum of colors
rainbows inspired to imitate

do you remember
when we put in the stepping stones
asked the old man

yes I do
answered the daughter
I was just thinking about that



june two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Nature, Poetry and tagged , , , , , , , , , , ,
19 Jun 2013
10 Comments

down the narrow lane


she smiled and told me
how much she loved me
her palm reaching out
to touch my cheek

I remember her touch
from way back when
and closed my eyes
as if it was yesterday

walking empty-handed
down the narrow lane
I really wasn’t sure
who was leaving who




june two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Poetry and tagged , ,

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