there is no sense
in revisiting all the bad things
that may or may not have happened
instead
think of the things yet to come
like the seeds of dahlia
planted in your mind
create and smile and live
the way only you know how
and call forth into your mind
sunshine
where there is none
and beat back the darkness
with luminescent petals
may two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
the local news pushes its way
into the palm of my hand
a constant reminder
the information age
continues to shrink the planet
I’d been considering lately
of moving back to Iowa
but reports of violence
creeping in and out of her cities
leads me to conclude
there’s no place left to hide
may two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
I sometimes imagine
what the fall of america
will be like and wonder
what similarities its cities will share
with the likes of sparta and pompeii
delphi and olympia
tikal and memphis
I imagine the people will flee
from the cities and find
a much simpler life
free from the burden
of a bigoted government
learning to live a new way
peacefully within its own means
may two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
I told the waitress
I like my steak
medium rare
turned just once
and bloody pink inside
She smiled
and walked away
the bounce in her
step a bit livelier
than when she arrived
My companion
was not amused
quick to remind me
I wasn’t the one
working on tips
may two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
the trains have all left
this dusty little town
and I’m left on the trackside
without even a dime
to buy a little more time
as my woman sits in coach
destination saint somewhere
may two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
you spent a lifetime
away from home
discovering wormholes
this side of saturn
breaking old laws
and discovering the mother lode
leaving you to question
how many postcards
are better than earth’s
may two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
on the first day of may
all the lonely children
gathered to play a game
each venturing to hide
within the seven wonders
on the first day of may
the sun refused to shine
and the children hidden
behind the shadows
pretended not to cry
on the first day of may
the glorious bell did ring
and all the children
starving for affection
raced to meet their king
may first two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
a child slips away
for just a moment
crawling between a railing
so many stories high
falling in slow motion
your hands reaching out
unable to grasp
the law of diminishing reality
april two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
I hunker down in a hawkish grotto
where nobody can find my prize
where the light of day
seems a light year away
and hound dogs
are just a figment of my imagination
there is plenty of food for thought
and sweet nectar can be tapped
from these ancient walls
measuring ten stories tall
adorned with objects
painted on throughout the centuries
exiled into this self-imposed solitude
I am at peace with my new mission
guarding the evils
locked inside this silo
hoping and praying
the world lives beyond its darkest days
april two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
on the most sorrowful day floral arrangements
accompany the winding road
as the birds of the field sing their joyful songs
nearby wildflowers weep and sway
newly clipped roses wrapped in paper produce
smiles once believed long gone
wherever a child is knee-deep in raw color
never let time pass away
april two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
the circle invitation
echoes from miles around
from a solitary flyer
high above the flooded
creek near oxfordshire
days of endless rain create
casualties on the ground
ripe for the taking
by just about anything
remotely intelligent
the size of the circle
grows wing by black wing
gaining strength and sailing
like a school of fish
in the overcast sky
once reconnaissance
confirms an opening
the dark circle transforms
into a ruthless carnivore
spiraling toward the earth
april two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
they brought him into school
to address the warrior nation
and I sat in the little theater
so happy to miss math
this cat spent most of his adult
life in and out of prison
and he spoke softly and slowly
as if he once walked dead
his tales of thievery involving
blunt knives and drugs
and smoking guns
proved to be entertaining
until he bent down
on one knee
and proceeded to reenact
that night
he held his girlfriend’s lifeless body
in his tattered arms
I hid my eyes beneath my hand
and looked around the room
trying to figure out which one of us
would be tomorrow’s speaker
april two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
once the children moved out
demons moved in disguised
as paper tigers roaming
from room to room
their emerald eyes shined
from the darkest corners
of the night reminding me
of a love I once had
I fed them sad stories
in exchange for my life
but their promises of light
I could not fathom
I asked them kindly to leave
my world but they curled
where the winter sun
shined through glass
in the spring I found strength
to unfold and reshape
keeping the demons at bay
as paper angels hanging
april two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
from a poem written in 1842
by my great great grandmother
Elizabeth (Mason) Waters
at 17 years of age
Washington, Iowa
What is Love? A heavenly feeling,
Centered in the human breast,
Softly o’er the senses stealing,
Gives the aching bosom rest.
What is Love? It is a treasure,
Seldom prized as it should be
‘Tis a pain, ‘tis a pleasure,
From all selfish feelings free.
Learn more about Elizabeth Mason Waters
april two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
the leaf once dreamed
of becoming a feather
and wished one day
to fall with grace
she imagined a child
uncovered her brilliance
and saved her forever
between two pages
displaced in darkness
for decades on end
she prayed for light
and rediscovery
april two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
I was thinking about that hotel
in memphis
the old one a few blocks north of
beale street
where the ducks live on the roof
and every day around
happy hour
they take the elevator to the first floor
and march single file on the
red carpet
then hop-skip-and-flap
right into the lobby water fountain
for a late afternoon swim
as the patrons quietly applaud
I can’t help but imagine what a scene
it would be
if all of them were pigs
march two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
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