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poetry by j matthew waters

Archive for the tag “Poetry”

20 Oct 2023

the dying winds of war


who do you love
when you are alone at sea
one sail & one body
—pieces of teak & cedar

space is like water
clusters of stars your next
destination
one wave after another

soon peace will be restored
—like never before
celebrations will erupt
throughout the lands

from the sea you make out
millions of candles
assembled along the shoreline
the dying winds of war
making them flicker





october two thousand twenty-three
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Poetry, War Poems and tagged , , , , | Leave a comment
19 Oct 2023
4 Comments

without a trace


where she went
I could not say
having disappeared
once my heart
went missing

alone on foot
I wander city streets
her reflection
in puddles
& storefront windows

street lamps give me
little to no solace
their brilliance
but a reminder
of her smile





october two thousand twenty-three
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in In the City, Poetry and tagged , , ,
18 Oct 2023

ghost town revival


how many times
had it been bombed & rebuilt
—what was so special
about this place
that even their ghosts
[time & again]
would rise to the occasion
refusing to be launched
like a rocket into the sky
well beyond the ether





october two thousand twenty-three
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Micropoetry, Poetry, War Poems and tagged , , , | Leave a comment
17 Oct 2023

the ceasefire


it is peaceful
inside the war room
mainly due to the lack
of any military personnel

in front of the south window
a betta swims
in a heated fish bowl
while on the outside sill
a juvenile raven peers in





october two thousand twenty-three
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Birds, Micropoetry, Poetry, War Poems and tagged , , , | Leave a comment
16 Oct 2023
4 Comments

october baseball


it’s mid october
& they’re still playing baseball
whether streaming online
or at triple play park
where they added a fourth diamond
two seasons ago

the players seen on devices
are real grown men
getting paid for what they do
in front of tens of thousands
while all the others
are simply boys & girls
running the bags on a
saturday morning

it’s getting colder outside
but that’s not stopping any of them
from donning their unis
& playing their hearts out
long before the first snowfall





october two thousand twenty-three
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Baseball, In the City, Poetry and tagged , , ,
15 Oct 2023
2 Comments

working for the DEA


purple tiger
smuggled in from
the southwest border

we were runners
we were kids
never paid by the hour

supposed to be home by six
but that was a moving target
—mama didn’t mind
not as long as they keep paying

social worker
stops by every ten days
making sure she’s still clean





october two thousand twenty-three
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Poetry and tagged , , ,
14 Oct 2023

the war within


rumor has it
they’re blowing
everything up
one block at a time

nobody believes it though
claiming they don’t
have the resources
—that it’s all talk

the curtain
slightly adjusted
one eye peers out the window
shadowy figures
darting from door to door
checking the locks
& leaving pamphlets

for now the neighborhood
is safe
but has never
been any scarier





october two thousand twenty-three
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in In the City, Poetry, War Poems and tagged , , , | Leave a comment
13 Oct 2023
1 Comment

saturday morning


dead bird at the front doorstep
—a juvenile house wren

the cat’s at the back door
clawing at the weather stripping
as if it’s a sheet of rock

there’s a mess to be cleaned
[well below my feet]
either in the laundry room
or the opium den

door shuts
& I tell myself
the bird is probably just stunned

in the living room
my dead mother is reading a thriller
the rocking chair slightly
rocking

to give her more light
I throw open the curtains





october two thousand twenty-three
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Birds, Poetry and tagged , , , , ,
12 Oct 2023

bukowski’s cat


I’ll pick out the runt
you can always tell which one
—you just pick ‘em up by the neck

I’ll make him tough I will
kick him around a bit
make him stay out all night long
just like me

it’s not like I’ve never
had one before
haven’t kicked one out of the house
haven’t given ‘em a few bucks
and told ‘em to get lost

but this one—
there’s something different
about this one

and so you let him stay
for a little while
as long as he doesn’t cost you much





october two thousand twenty-three
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Animals, Poetry and tagged , , , | Leave a comment
11 Oct 2023
3 Comments

counting UFOs


we were relaxing in the future
sitting on the edge of a pier
our legs dangling above the waves
motioning toward us
like clockwork

it reminded us of an ocean
but wondered
what the locals call it
curious whether or not
they name their bodies of water

soon the second sun would rise





october two thousand twenty-three
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Aliens, Dreams, Micropoetry, Poetry and tagged , , ,
10 Oct 2023
5 Comments

somewhere it is raining


where ducks once floated
now feed on algae-like grass

echoes in the valley
bounce off the bluffs & dissipate
into a stream
that once
was a river

raptors surveil from up high
zeroing in on the lowest denominator
—their symphonic wings
ushering in
the distant lightning





october two thousand twenty-three
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Birds, Nature, Poetry and tagged , , ,
09 Oct 2023
4 Comments

it’s hard to close your eyes at night


nobody is safe yet miraculously
so many live in a constant
state of peace

whether or not the same stands true
interiorly speaking
is another matter altogether

what a world they must live in
insulated from the physically reality
of inner city warfare

the moving pictures
of airstrikes & drone attacks
can’t do justice
especially where justice
cannot be served





october two thousand twenty-three
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in In the City, Poetry, War Poems and tagged , , ,
08 Oct 2023

the awakening


you can see now
now that the veil has been lifted
and the clouds have cleared
trillions of stars in the night sky
coming into view
for the very first time

it’s then you tell yourself
how they’ve been there all along
yourself previously
buried deep underground
like a dormant seed
waiting to be awakened





october two thousand twenty-three
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Micropoetry, Poetry and tagged , , , | Leave a comment
07 Oct 2023

star wars on the planet earth


they say there is safety in numbers
an old adage likely apocryphal
this day & age

wherever people gather
there exists this potential
for mass devastation
whether by nature herself
or the acting out of malcontents

I suppose from the dawn of time
humans have been unable
to control themselves
whether it be the insatiable desire
to reach for the stars
or thirsting to destroy
that which we fail to comprehend





october two thousand twenty-three
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Poetry, War Poems and tagged , , , | Leave a comment
06 Oct 2023
8 Comments

made of cherry wood


there are these words
scrambled atop this tall table
one with two high chairs

it sits in the corner of the room
the cherry wood
dark & shadowy

people who live there
people who visit
pass by on a regular basis
but they do not notice the words

one night one of them is speaking
philosophically
—the four others sit on the floor
listening & mostly nodding

he or she goes on to say it’s difficult
to explain what we’re trying to say
that it’s hard to put into words

the very words scrambled
across the tall tabletop
—like a puzzle dying to be put together

and they sit on the floor
& they ponder

the floor too
made of cherry wood





october two thousand twenty-three
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Poetry and tagged , , ,
05 Oct 2023
2 Comments

present & accounted for


chillin’ w/some stones
& irish whiskey
I keep time w/o a watch
pretending the world
exists differently
than it did yesterday

I lost all of my money
to the bear market
& somewhere along the way
my anger went w/it
replaced by a sort of
melancholy
that I can’t quite seem
to put my finger on

the future is currently
out of the question
optioned for a song & a dance
[& a player to be named later]
while the past remains
idling in the background
waiting to be recalled





october two thousand twenty-three
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Poetry and tagged , , ,

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