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poetry by j matthew waters

Archive for the tag “Poetry”

24 Aug 2017
4 Comments

jericho dreaming


walls of flowering vines
climbing brick and mortar
stitch and sewing along the way

whatever bends or breaks
before and after winter
can surely be repaired or
worst case replaced

bracing for the worst
no longer fits the bill
not as long as circular life forces
unpredictably barrel along
nearby sea and then some

walls have long crumbled
though flowering vines remain
uplifted by an acceptance
to this day unexplained





august two thousand seventeen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Dogma, Poetry and tagged ,
23 Aug 2017
2 Comments

august morning noon and night


how long this will last
easily resolves itself
these cool august nights

there is no mood here
shut down for the summer
except for green grass
growing incrementally taller

where there were once battles
now reside flowering meadows
rainbow colors stretching skyward

and what was once thought
to be paradise
is unable to reconcile itself
reduced to ashes
starting anew





august two thousand seventeen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Nature, Poetry and tagged ,
22 Aug 2017
4 Comments

hello how are you


she had it so her cell rang
like an old fashioned telephone
kind you’d find on carol burnett

she lost it in the cushions last night
and we found it long after she was gone

don’t pick that up he said
it’s probably that bitch again

if it’s that bitch wouldn’t she just text

yes I suppose she would
but don’t pick it up anyway
she’s not taking any more calls





august two thousand seventeen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Poetry and tagged , ,
21 Aug 2017
6 Comments

multiple choice ultimatum


there was this contract
I wasn’t supposed to see
but I found out about it
accidentally when searching
for some contraband

smoking a cigarette and
working on my fourth guinness
roommate enters stage right
stoned no doubt
and most likely packing

a single sheet of typewritten paper
lay on the hardwood floor
refolded many times with two signatures
scrawled in blue above the footer

did you find what you were looking for
he says to me unemotionally

not really I say
that’s why I’m drinking guinness

though playing it cool I can see
he’s nervous inside
heartbeats pinging my hearing

what do you want me to do now he says

I want you to tear up that contract
either that or take me out right now
or better yet bring me all in



august two thousand seventeen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Poetry and tagged ,
20 Aug 2017

church bells will be ringing


eleven times church bells were ringing
rising moon faintly shining on new year’s night
slender and somber and silently emerging

brothers in arms assembled in town’s square
followed by women and children and elders
all awakened by resoundingly familiar tolling

they’ve been called to march down this road before
paved over many times by many generations
redefining a past that refuses to be changed

though all the statues have long been raised
resilient memories are much harder to replace
stamped inside stories unwritten and retold



august two thousand seventeen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in In the City, Poetry and tagged , | Leave a comment
19 Aug 2017

beyond mesopotamia


it’s simple to snap a number four pencil
anyone of us could do it at any given moment

odds are slim to be sure since most of us
would simply give it a good sharpening

but those who wouldn’t think twice
they’ve been failed by far too many
flanked on either their left or their right

some say hatred is something learned
but truth be told has lingered in our DNA
well before the dawn of civilization

we’ve been playing catch up ever since
scratching out commandments and
condemning the damned before ever born



august two thousand seventeen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Nature, Poetry and tagged , , | Leave a comment
18 Aug 2017
7 Comments

troubles here to stay


shadows are my friends and they
visit me often when least expected
whether I’m elated or tearful
or simply content with melancholy

rarely they bring me flowers but
when they do they are black and white
roses or begonias or pink petunias
since they know what I like

sometimes they tell me it’s okay to
change my name if need be
but I pretend not to listen and smile
turning ordinary thoughts into bouquets

it’s like a game this thing called love
suddenly evolving into something
that never existed yesterday
like a sunflower seed with promise



august two thousand seventeen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Poetry and tagged , ,
17 Aug 2017
6 Comments

dragon of my dreams


paint a pretty picture and play me a ditty
project brand new images inside this
lethargic and melancholic reverie

there are prized creatures to be caught
larger than anything this lake has ever seen
monstrous with fiery eyes and razor-sharp teeth
meandering and beautifully frightful

I’ve harnessed the wind using magical spells
cast upon my newfound partner
a ferocious winged dragon needing direction

together we paint pretty pictures in the skies
and play the most joyful ditties
swooping o’er the lake and taming the serpent
projecting brand new images for all to see



august two thousand seventeen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Dreams, Poetry and tagged , , , ,
15 Aug 2017
2 Comments

when reaching for ice cream


he kept repeating once the paint had dried
pink would turn into salmon

neither salmon nor lake trout made it here alive
but the crabs sure arrived on time
and we showered them with
praise and boiling water

meanwhile in the basement
the freezer chest hums along
keeping solid that which may never thaw



august two thousand seventeen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Poetry and tagged , ,
13 Aug 2017
2 Comments

one night in august


somehow I lost you on a hot august night
whisked away by a bevy of thirsty angels

we had just left the tic toc tavern
our wits still in tact after discussing
the absence of the sun

looking back I had seen them all along
sitting quietly at the round table
pretending to be roadies for the show

as it would seem their murmurings
had everything to do with you
and how you would guide them
to their next destination



august two thousand seventeen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Poetry and tagged , , ,
12 Aug 2017

innocence takes many forms


out of sight out of mind
black and white images
unconcerned by various mainstreams
a dark contrast to the very places
they can’t possibly comprehend



august two thousand seventeen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Micropoetry, Poetry and tagged , , , | Leave a comment
11 Aug 2017
13 Comments

mister moon and me


I hadn’t noticed how much the moon
had changed in such a short period of time
and I was beginning to believe
perhaps it was I evolving even faster

I told my daughter the other day
I wasn’t the same person from ten years ago
and as she nodded in agreement
I wasn’t sure she truly believed me

I keep sticking my hands in my pockets for
no particular reason
and everytime I bring them back out
I look at them in complete amazement

I remember as a child I would play in the bathtub
with armies and fishes made of soap
and after a while I would exclaim
look mom I have old man hands again

now the moon is the oldest man I’ve ever known
and I tell myself I will get there one day
as long as I don’t lose sight of its wonders
and the all possibilities it displays




august two thousand seventeen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Nature, Poetry and tagged , ,
10 Aug 2017
4 Comments

line in the sand


I never saw so much whiteness
how it frightened me so
mountains giving chase to
skyscrapers
crumbling into seas

oh how I thought earth had died
and I alone sang the blues
the thrill gone
vacuumed inside mushroom clouds

survivors if any are free at last
washing ashore
(dead or alive) onto tiny islands
unclaimed by any government
legitimate or otherwise



august two thousand seventeen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Nature, Poetry, War Poems and tagged , ,
09 Aug 2017
2 Comments

wall of denial


everything feeds into the next thing
until finally feeding unto itself

you catch words everywhere you go
words and phrases and sounds
you’ve never heard before

I should have given that man
that asked me
a dollar
but I thought I was out of singles
last ones spent on lotto tickets

turning the corner new sounds
enter into the atmosphere
lifting me atop the clouds
where I walked around for hours

there is this hidden turbulence
higher into the stratosphere
pockets of sabotage crouched down
waiting to strike wayward travelers

I’m not denying that I’ve never been there
but since coming back (to earth)
my perspective has never been sharper



august two thousand seventeen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Nature, Poetry and tagged , ,
08 Aug 2017

resurrecting false blue indigo


false blue clouds hang over
from day before
blotting out an anxious sun
adding worries to an already
dramatically murderous summer

it was the year nothing bloomed
as world wars waged on

but the vegetables we grew
and harvested (underneath the radar)
were more than completely edible
but keeping it secret
played out to be impossible



august two thousand seventeen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Poetry, War Poems and tagged , , | Leave a comment
07 Aug 2017

backyard gig


the boys were out back
barefoot and quiet as could be
lighted candlesticks in tow

so far they’ve had 23 chances
cashing in at near record rates
extending natural highs

though successful yet again
they keep their egos in check
stopping short of euphoria



august two thousand seventeen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Animals, Nature, Poetry and tagged , , , | Leave a comment

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