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poetry by j matthew waters

Archive for the tag “Poetry”

09 Apr 2017
4 Comments

waiting on the sun


we hadn’t heard the roar of jets
going on 13 hours now
and we were beginning to fear the worst
was yet to come

if there was a window not blown out
by now that would make the evening news
though there was neither television nor radio
no microwaves and
certainly no wifi
let alone clouds in the make-believe sky

the children often wonder when the sun
will return
when the flowers in the fields
will bloom again



april two thousand seventeen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Poetry and tagged , ,
08 Apr 2017
2 Comments

no static at all


in need of being alone
I took a different way home

kept pushing the button
changing the frequency
unable to get
comfortable with how I felt

I’m pretty sure Steely Dan
understands the art of FM
like nobody else in recent memory

in between the pauses
spirits build upon momentum
taking out towers
and taking over airwaves
offering sounds of second chances



april two thousand seventeen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Poetry and tagged , ,
07 Apr 2017
6 Comments

apocalypse then and now


it’s come to this
mammals dressed in pants
fighting for territory on
principles born in the backwoods
countless centuries before christ

before dungeon and dragons
there was this game called
kill or be killed
and for whatever reason (ever since)
programmers can’t seem to shake the code

only the lowly and the few have witnessed
angels waiting in the wings
some perched atop palm trees
others drifting into the bay
hapless and humming
reluctantly waiting for the end to begin



april two thousand seventeen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Dogma, Poetry and tagged , ,
06 Apr 2017
4 Comments

out here in the fields


we can pretty much do anything
out here in the fields
except piss on concrete buildings
or turn boxcars into artwork

the bus driver went one way
while the rest of us went another
confident the slender moon would
never lead us astray



april two thousand seventeen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Micropoetry, Nature and tagged , , ,
05 Apr 2017
4 Comments

no goodbyes here


I play this rock and roll
is how you see things
spreading your philosophy
to those drifting into or
near your path

somewhere along the line
there were lawsuits and
birthday parties
and many a prescription filled
selling cars off virtual lots
to pay for it all
all the while pretending
to be in other places

nearing forty years now
you magically appear out of the
proverbial atmosphere
same eyes and smile and laugh
same angry bird
chirping on my shoulder
thankfully reminding me there are
no goodbyes here
not as long as you
have anything to do with it



april two thousand seventeen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Poetry and tagged , , ,
04 Apr 2017

A million miles from home


Elton John’s ‘Daniel’ streams through my
car speakers
as if it’s 1973
quickly reminding me
I am not old enough to drive

Daniel my brother
everyone knows
you just want to shake loose those
lights and cameras
shadowing you through the fields

Word has it you have returned
home
(yet again from battle)
attempting to dissolve into the
fabric of some small Texas town
one of which children google
all the way from Afghanistan

To me Daniel
you can never get away
you are stuck inside some song
like some reluctant cosmonaut
seeking inner peace



april two thousand seventeen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Poetry, War Poems and tagged , , , , | Leave a comment
03 Apr 2017
6 Comments

opening windows in April


she used to play piano on late
Sunday mornings
the boys in the kitchen singing
and keeping plenty busy
preparing brunch and such

there’s no sense trying to
rescue that painting
it’s best to prime the canvass
and start again from scratch

that knock-off Picasso that used
to hang in the living room
made a killing at the auction

the memories weren’t for sale
they simply stayed with the house
drifting in and out of walls
depending upon the season
and which windows might be
open or shut



april two thousand seventeen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Poetry and tagged , ,
02 Apr 2017
3 Comments

No particular place to go


I slept in on Sunday morning
and when I awoke I didn’t know
what day it was

I had been dreaming about time
travel and god knows
how many centuries I covered
that last hour

If it wasn’t for the sudden urge
that startled me awake
I probably would have witnessed the
birth of a King

After I had emptied my confusion
into the toilet bowl
I came to the realization I had
no place to go
other than the hardware store
to purchase
a replacement stopper



april two thousand seventeen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Dreams, Poetry and tagged , , ,
01 Apr 2017
3 Comments

rhetorical questions


I’ve been thriving on strawberry
and lemon water
eating almonds and cashews
every other day
all the while considering how
seriously I’m in need of some sun

she awoke before me
her shower a part of my dreams
later leaning over to kiss me
rainfall hitting the pitch of the roof
just perfectly

you’re dressed for success
I murmured
squinting and gathering pillows

I hope you’re not going to lie there
all day long she says

before I could answer she was gone



april fools day two thousand seventeen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Poetry and tagged , ,
29 Mar 2017
12 Comments

there is murder in the room


he sat in the rocking chair and thought about whistling

he wasn’t really rocking more like nodding
thinking of the day when he was a boy and
learned to whittle basswood with a pocket knife

he remembered the days when he used to sing
serenading like a fool until he finally won her over

he remembered when she finally said yes
remembered how the birds sang

but then day turned to night and winds
blew with neither a beginning nor end

oh how the winds did blow he remembered

oh how the winds took her away

he did not like being here now
where shadows waltzed in white dresses
whispering to themselves and laughing

his thoughts soon turned back to the pocket knife
how the wood reminded him of the remington
the one his father taught him to shoot



march two thousand seventeen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Poetry and tagged , ,
26 Mar 2017
10 Comments

Sometimes missing in action


I’d been working on my alibi
forever and a fortnight
yet all I got is nothing
except for a few lines from
a song I used to sing in 1999

I’d been missing in action
upwards of a decade
living off the land and sea and
learning to communicate in
languages other than my own

Haphazardly discovered by an
undercover search party
I ditched the executive karaoke club
and slipped onto the next ferry
to Singapore via Batam



march two thousand seventeen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Poetry and tagged , ,
24 Mar 2017

pretense from the far side


our father who art in poetry
hallowed be thy (perplexing) rhyme

or so the thoughts of dementia do flow

despite seeing nothing in return
you continue to spread the spoken word
if only to yourself

why do most everyone agree the little ones
grow up too fast
(and not do anything about it)
whether they be shining bright
or falling into obscurity

and then there are those
perhaps fortunate
(or perhaps not)
having gained admission on the far side
one metered step at a time



march two thousand seventeen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Poetry and tagged , | Leave a comment
23 Mar 2017
4 Comments

there is safety in numbers


the snow here never melts
where alien camels
once canvassed frozen desert
in search of water

without rocket propulsion
below the surface is the only escape
regardless the location

buildings collapse upon themselves
like cardboard towers
filling the void with smoke and mirrors
and concrete icing

evening turns to night
charcoal clouds descending
putting to rest dragons dreaming
deep inside the mountain



march two thousand seventeen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Aliens, Poetry and tagged , ,
20 Mar 2017
2 Comments

interview with a ragamuffin


the blues I understand so much more
than any shade of black or white

what are you doing I ask the little girl
who appeared out of thin air
she answers without looking up
all the time focusing on a world
expanding in colors without words

I stood there stunned for a moment
as if I was the subject
but then awoke and moved on
neither mesmerized nor alert
uncertain what she had uttered



march two thousand seventeen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Poetry and tagged , ,
19 Mar 2017
8 Comments

the wayfarer’s son


there is nothing normal
going on here
or at least that’s what it seems
to any casual observer who might
happen to overtake this transport

it’s full speed ahead
zooming past all the rest stops
where people drink coffee and
talk about what it means to be human

every new place seems the same
so many sons and daughters
manipulated by promises
fading into the scenery
blending in with the unnoticed
and unmotivated
and/or heavily sedated

steering clear of deep dives
I swear to god (once again)
there are some things I don’t talk about
especially to perfect strangers
let alone myself



march two thousand seventeen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Poetry and tagged , ,
16 Mar 2017
8 Comments

catching up with the midnight rider


I miss everything reckless
and I’m bound and determined
to make another run at it
barreling down river road
giving chase to the current

most times it’s impossible
to catch the leader (of the pack)
let alone decipher exactly
who put what in motion

even without all the facts
I’m prepared to move on
singing a song I’ve not forgotten
when once upon a time
I dreamed I was a little girl



march two thousand seventeen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

    Posted in Dreams, Poetry and tagged , , ,

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