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poetry by j matthew waters

Archive for the tag “Poetry”

03 Jul 2017
3 Comments

controlled burning


sunspot settles into eight o’clock
quite content hanging out there
for as long as I can recall

in the field old men split seasoned wood
boys gather and stack neatly
building towers three times their size

birds and clouds passing by routinely
aided by westerly breeze
pushing forward suspended sun

transitioning perfectly seamless
natural light surrenders
controlled flames reaching for the stars



july two thousand seventeen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Nature, Poetry and tagged , , , ,
02 Jul 2017
7 Comments

inside the rest of the story


he opened the oversized book halfway
and started to read midsentence
enunciating every single word perfectly

though the story had been told before
those wandering or lollygagging
suddenly stopped their senselessness
focused upon their sense of sound

it may not always be obvious but it is there
lingering in the background
muted or amplified or completely cut off
but whatever the circumstance
it will never leave your world

(but what of the rest of the story
all the little ones reiterated to the reader
their curious minds wanting to know
their voices quivering)



july two thousand seventeen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Poetry and tagged , ,
01 Jul 2017
14 Comments

wounded angel


I set the oscillating fan on the second
of three settings
blowing warm air straight through
the wounded angel

I don’t think she’s breathing
I say while trying to make the fan oscillate

I don’t know if angels actually breathe she said
wrapping a cold press across his forehead

aren’t angels supposed to be helping us
I say pressing button after button

would you just leave that damn thing alone
she said and help me move her
back into the shade

that damn sun keeps moving I say
he’s not looking so hot
shouldn’t we call 9-1-1 or something

no we’re not going to call 9-1-1 she said
what are you fucking crazy





july two thousand seventeen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Dogma, Poetry and tagged , ,
30 Jun 2017
4 Comments

a matter of black and white


he said she was dying
though it was not the first time
and by the time I got there
everybody had left

gone dancing they all did
as I would come to later understand
once re-released from custody

madonna had been dead for years
I tried to explain to anyone
(who would listen)
but I could go no further
having sworn allegiance to silence

I am certain I was framed
but unable to present proof
other than once a black sheep
always an easy target





june two thousand seventeen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Animals, Poetry and tagged , ,
29 Jun 2017
4 Comments

katydid


who’s that singing me to sleep
these late summer eves
waxing and waning like the moon
but oh so minuscule

good vibrations commingle
between life and death
cycling for the better every year
give or take a lunar month

hopping from tree to tree
from bush to shrub
petal to rejuvenated petal
tempted by the bluejay
and coaxed by the stream
making friends with frogs and mice
anything honestly faced along the way




june two thousand seventeen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Nature, Poetry and tagged , , ,
28 Jun 2017
2 Comments

stormtroopers on the run


rains followed along streams of light
attracted to the illumination of the city

raindrops splattered atop thin ice
triggering flashbacks of fluorescent flying insects

though the winds behaved peacefully
casualties kept arriving at an alarming rate

each lull brought back another storm
arriving like missionless troopers with an attitude

they said to get out while you still can
far away from places casting incandescent shadows





june two thousand seventeen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in In the City, Nature, Poetry and tagged , ,
27 Jun 2017
3 Comments

ark of the billy goats


there was four of us who went out
to fix the fence after all them
winds blew through

pa put us in charge
and there was no way in hell
jack and the billy boys were
gonna cross otter creek

it was a ‘noah’ storm
at least that’s what we called them
kind that renders rain gauges useless
and pickup trucks limited

wooden gate guards county line
(once pieces of an old barn)
gives way from fence post
tossed into the swelling stream
like Tom Sawyer’s river raft

three goats somehow climb atop
hanging ten (or whatever their number is)
all four of us giving chase
like some kind of cartoon maniacs
racing across the water





june two thousand seventeen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Animals, Poetry and tagged ,
26 Jun 2017
8 Comments

the minimalist


everywhere in the house
there are bits and pieces
left here and there by nearly anyone

needle and thread and triple a battery
nickel and dime and gnarly tennis ball
none of which belong to me

trophies and knickknacks and
vinyl records in various sizes
displayed on shelves
have no meaning in my life

people come picking up things
dropping things off as they go
buying and lifting and regifting
never saying one word

though my calculations are unscientific
I’ve reason to believe my possessions
(which aren’t my possessions)
will be next to nothing
anytime soon





june two thousand seventeen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Poetry and tagged , ,
25 Jun 2017
2 Comments

smack in the face


under the bridge needles grow
tendered by invisible trolls
thirsty for artificial light

rolling up sleeves
uncovering layers of skin
giving names to veins
and telling inner city stories
one tattoo at a time

rain never bothered anyone
not where I come from
if push came to shove you could
always find shelter with Orson Wells
and all his little friends





june two thousand seventeen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in In the City, Poetry and tagged ,
24 Jun 2017
5 Comments

just like a satellite


out back the boys chewed
on tobacco they called butterflyweed
and not a one of them had a single
thought in their head

inside the girls worked batch
after batch of monster cookies
television set playing in the background
radio blasting pop rock
not a one of them ever not talking

somewhere along the line
these monarch butterflies fly overhead
like an orange sundog drifting along
arcing like a rainbow through the midday sky





june two thousand seventeen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Micropoetry, Nature, Poetry and tagged , , ,
23 Jun 2017
7 Comments

inspiring to be free


it’s three o’clock and I’ve no place to go
whether it be day or night
or minutes before or seconds after

physically I am not paralyzed
though my mind is working on making it so
playing on the pretense
I have the power to make time stand still

birdsongs stream through an open window
a background score composed and
recorded by a higher power

like a man in a trance I rise to the occasion
and find myself reaching out into the darkness
collecting whole notes and half notes
quarter notes and many other partial notes
stashing them into a leather satchel
so that I may later release them
after I am well on my way





june two thousand seventeen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Dreams, Nature, Poetry and tagged ,
21 Jun 2017
10 Comments

these towns all look the same


maybe you should go there
and stop complaining about
taxes and megaphoning
death to your leader

I’ve seen more out-of-town
and out-of-state license plates
than I care to report

we are just this one small dot
connected to no other single point
on this godforsaken landscape

my lord tells me something bad
is about to happen again tonight

there is no reason not to believe her





june two thousand seventeen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in In the City, Poetry and tagged ,
20 Jun 2017
6 Comments

stopping the impending doom


jet fighters crisscross the skies
like high flying bishops
licensed to fly

at control central pawns
surround the queen
fanning her with anything
they can get their hands on

at all four corners
white men wage war against
all other colors
wielding maces and knives
flashing suicide switches against
her majesty’s wishes

all the while horsemen
silently breathe into the fog
anxious for that chance
to live and die another day





june two thousand seventeen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in History, Poetry, War Poems and tagged , ,
19 Jun 2017
13 Comments

brand new bluebird song


there was this poem I used to keep
in my back pocket
kind of like bukowski’s bluebird
only not as hopeful and
not as sad
but plenty sorrowful in its own right

one day somebody asked to borrow it
and I gave it away without even thinking
I gave it away
like it was a knee jerk reaction
like when shutting the door behind you
instantaneously realizing
you just locked yourself out

the poem lives on in somebody
else’s life now
leaving me to explore the city streets
sandals on feet and opera glasses in hand
capturing glimpses of brand new blues





june two thousand seventeen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Birds, In the City, Poetry and tagged , ,
18 Jun 2017
2 Comments

rumors of an evacuation


for some reason only the crickets
came out that night
and before the break of dawn
all of the birds will have left the city

at the inception it was a nonevent
but in retrospect
it shouldn’t have taken so long
before the people started leaving





june two thousand seventeen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Birds, In the City, Micropoetry, Poetry and tagged , , ,
17 Jun 2017
10 Comments

stranger in town


they tell me I should turn myself in
but I respectfully decline

the judge in my case isn’t alive anymore
and his replacement isn’t doing
that much better

so I jump-start my engine and
continue on my merry way
finding myself feeling somewhat
comfortable in this one horse town

good luck trying to find me
I say while turning away after
tipping the barmaid

she flashes me a smile
(or so I would like to think)
and suddenly my imagination
gets the best of me

there’s another town about six
hours away from here
where I’ve come to understand
they welcome total strangers





june two thousand seventeen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Poetry and tagged , ,

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