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poetry by j matthew waters

Archive for the tag “Poetry”

01 Apr 2016
1 Comment

when do I get that phone call


he didn’t mean to hurt no one
he told the officer
he swore it was in self-defense

he gave me an ultimatum
he went on to say
my bankroll or my life

he said he was supposed to be
at church in the morning
but there was no way
that was going to happen
not with all the blood loss
a found silver switchblade
and a missing body

(the dogs have been out for hours
tearing up the neighborhood
looking for the least signs of life)

I didn’t kill nobody
he repeated
blood beading through
homemade stitches


april two thousand sixteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Poetry and tagged , , ,
31 Mar 2016
6 Comments

an army of one


I sat documenting a million lives
stretched across the globe
not kings or queens
but mere men and women and children
lost in pages of history
     only to be reborn
           centuries later
void of memory but striving
to improve their worth to a god
seldom offering second chances

time and again they returned
to earth much like wayward souls
unable to let go
cast down by a god convinced
they will one day lay down their arms
and see for themselves
there is love for all the ages


march two thousand sixteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Poetry, War Poems and tagged , , ,
28 Mar 2016
4 Comments

she stood at the top of the stairway


opening the front door
the foyer gave way
to the intricately woven staircase
the bottom board wider than a mile

each riser was narrower
than the previous one
each step velveted in red

she stood at the top in her
baby blue evening gown
strapless and bell-shaped
from the waist down

she twirled and curtsied
and blew kisses
from the palms of her hands
wet kisses that floated into
sweet nothingness

she did not want to descend
did not want to walk down
one slow step at a time
revealing to all those below
her inner beauty
her flawless imperfections
destined to revolve into her
next reincarnation


march two thousand sixteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Poetry and tagged , ,
27 Mar 2016

manning the square-rigged caravel


it’s two in the morning and I find myself
chasing the obstinate moon across the north
atlantic en route to newfoundland

the rum had run out days ago
and tonight we tapped the second
of three kegs of hopped ale we
commandeered at gunpoint from an
english galleon with a skeleton crew

the monster waves are angry as hell
thanks to the bulging gibbous
but I’ve managed to tie myself down
at the base of the long beak
getting bashed and spitting out
marching orders
to all the flying ghostfish of pirates past




about the square-rigged caravel


march two thousand sixteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Poetry and tagged , , , | Leave a comment
22 Mar 2016
3 Comments

deathly viral


a sickness hangs around
undisturbed
sublime like the slender moon
infrequently bright
but destined to burst

silent cells work below
the surface
tunneling effectively
like eager termites
building a kingdom

monitors intersect
the chatter
faint but riding the airwaves
like a vampire bat
preparing to strike

emerging past the shadows
bulging lights
expose the contagion
airborne and fatal
blighting whole cities


march two thousand sixteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in In the City, Poetry, War Poems and tagged , , , ,
20 Mar 2016

Oh thee of little faith


I didn’t come here to be blindsided
punched in the face
and kicked in the gut
all while trying to stand back up

I didn’t come here to starve to death
nor wander god-forsaken lands
once ruled by holy men
who failed so miserably

I didn’t come here to be ridiculed
for my beliefs
whether original thoughts
or inherited by a people struggling
to break free from persecution

I didn’t come here to be dominated
intimidated or bound
detained in a cage
and held for ransom
praying to be redeemed
by my lady of mercy


march two thousand sixteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Dogma, Poetry and tagged , , , | Leave a comment
18 Mar 2016

the beauty of the endless sky


first the brooks and the streams
and the creeks evanesced

suddenly going back to the well
was not an option

endless skies displayed the prettiest
of the blues in no particular order
ghost white and cerulean
ultramarine and
robin’s egg

the beauty of the skies continued on
for weeks and then months
unnoticed by the inhabitants searching
to quench their thirst

and soon thereafter the rivers ran dry
and the oceans receded

the mass migration had begun


march two thousand sixteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Nature, Poetry and tagged , , , | Leave a comment
17 Mar 2016
4 Comments

generations reborn


fire was in order
to control the weeds
little did they know roots
have an empire of their own
conspiring below the surface

earth-shaking machines
pounded past the concrete
instantly peeling back
layers of history that took
centuries to build

civilizations clash
before our very eyes
whether on this continent
or another planet
certain to be conquered

arms races don’t exist
where love has taken hold
where destructive forces
so very long ago
descended into the sheen


march two thousand sixteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Poetry and tagged , ,
15 Mar 2016
10 Comments

she had been there


the midnight train arrived early tonight
and I was running an hour late

I wasn’t even sure if she was on it
all I had was a telegram and no promise
sent from chicago to philadelphia
a few short days ago

I walked into the station and found a place
to stand still
   winded
       catching my breath
loosening my neck like an eagle

so it seemed all the baggage handlers
were now focused on eager
departing passengers

I took the telegram out of my back pocket
unfolded and slowly breathed it in

after breathing out
I inhaled a second time
     and closed my eyes


march two thousand sixteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Poetry and tagged , ,
13 Mar 2016
6 Comments

petroleum jelly


waiting to get her hair done
Mabelline perused a fashion magazine
safely sitting alone expressionless in the corner

behind either of her shoulders
large windows invited a southern sun
shining brightly but not packing much punch

she lifted her eyes and turned
spotted a red sports car speeding by
shouting ‘look at me I’m burning gasoline’

jack hammers pounded nearby
dismantling streets menaced with pot holes
slightly shaking the tile floor beneath her feet

suddenly stirred with unusual thoughts
she imagined a burglar broke into her home
carelessly rummaging through her medicine cabinet


march two thousand sixteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Poetry and tagged , , ,
11 Mar 2016
19 Comments

teatime in the white room


the teacups were so small
but not as small
as the table and chair I sat upon
with my newfound
furry friends who chattered
nonstop and laughed
like animated mice

I sat pretty as you please
thumb and forefinger
holding up the flowery teacup
pinky sticking straight up
and smiling like a lunatic
at my mysteriously
fabulous companions



march two thousand sixteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Poetry and tagged , , ,
08 Mar 2016
5 Comments

winds of change


it’s not a job
but a livelihood
digging holes in the ground
and filling them back in
marching behind foot soldiers
a shovel for a rifle

the long grass past that hill
the one taken back
over a year and fortnight ago
grows wildly bright
naturally fertilized by both
allies and enemies

I wonder what I’ll become
when the world
embraces reconciliation
wonder what vocation
I could possibly embrace
to honor those still alive


march two thousand sixteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Poetry, War Poems and tagged , , ,
06 Mar 2016
8 Comments

those good old days


they sit in the great room
watching golf with the sound
turned up rather loudly
commenting how none of the
golfers have visible tattoos
like so many other athletes

what’s this cloud they talk about
she queries
pointing at the microsoft commercial
airing on the television

what’s that he shouts back

the cloud she repeats
what is this cloud all about

beats the hell out of me he says

but I thought you knew everything
she says

for the last time he says
I once knew everything
now all I know is jack squat

picking up the remote
he turns the volume up even louder


march two thousand sixteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Poetry and tagged , ,
04 Mar 2016
7 Comments

an invasion of sorts


freedom means nothing
unless opportunities live
outside the body

body snatchers
I have no time for
but those mind snatchers
I want to meet them
outside my moonlit window

those dreams you keep having
the ones keeping you up at night
how long do you think
they’ve been keeping you alive
and how long before
you can convince them
to take me with you


march two thousand sixteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Poetry and tagged , , , ,
01 Mar 2016

preparing for the unknown


he died in Vatican City on vacation
courtesy of a one-way ticket
purchased by an unknown agent

everyone seemed to know him
whether in Hollywood or
Mumbai or Ho Chi Minh City

born to the slums of Lebanon
it was a miracle he ever set sail
beyond the Mediterranean

his most youthful days gave way
to urban sand lots on Saturdays
playing host to cricket or fútbol
or american baseball

without a home there is no heart
especially before going to war
or so he wrote
about being reborn
about taking Waterloo by storm
about stepping out of the theatre
and coming back to earth
for that
once-in-a-lifetime pilgrimage


march two thousand sixteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Dogma, Poetry, War Poems and tagged , , | Leave a comment
17 Jan 2016
3 Comments

Ciudad de México


To this day pieces of my past
remain scattered
in the Valley of Mexico
consumed into the warm soft clay

When you said you didn’t love me
lightning struck
three times in the distance
portending tears of a sad affair

In Mexico City I remained
for years on end
taking to the streets
smiling and laughing and enjoying
the companionship
of a compassionate people
accepting the art and music
and language and history as my own
living a lie that my heart
had never been broken




View the Spanish translation version by Lina Ru by clicking here


january two thousand sixteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in In the City, Poetry and tagged , , , ,

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