poetry by j matthew waters

Archive for the tag “sun”


the lost drone         resurfaces
after three days without          the sun

commandeers itself
back          amongst the clouds

as if a ghost

back home          the remotes
share     no     purpose

the eyes have no vision

        of regaining control
                the drone lives on

as long as there is     the sun

december two thousand twenty-two
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

drifting like a ghost

there is sadness in the air you can feel it

the wind is still
and the sun comes & goes
as if it’s a domestic cat
not really knowing
what she wants

I open the door
but the cat will not enter
she just sits there
looking sad

the wind is still
and moon is nowhere
to be found
perhaps sadder than
the rest of us
solitarily crying

I close the door
and the cat begins to wail
I walk away & pretend
that I am deaf

the wind is still
and the clouds are full of rain
but the rain
does not fall
held back by something
outside of my knowing

I open the window
the winds begin to blow
exposing both sun & moon
the cat drifting like a ghost

july two thousand twenty-one
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

three more days

it’s friday
and the sun is in hiding
a fugitive
an accessory to the crime
once the great life source
now on the run

it’s anybody’s guess
how long
the rains will last
it’s been three days
since the cleansing began
hope begins to rise

march two thousand twenty
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

the eyes of the sun

in the morning I shall die
once again becoming
lost to the rays of the sun
like a white horse
and grazing
in an unfenced field

how many ensuing years
(or dare I say centuries)
shall come to pass
before completely understanding
why the sun herself
refuses to die

december two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserve

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

slender is the moon

sometimes she rises unexpectedly
somewhat slight
and somehow bright
like a slice of lemon or orange
painted in the sky

far out west ideas stretch
and sink
fading like an autumn leaf

face to face juxtapositions often
lead to uncertainty
casting doubt
by way of a thousand lies

there are certainly higher standards
worth obtaining
but not at the cost
of having to show no mercy

december two thousand sixteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

one step closer to the sun

maybe gasoline is so cheap
because it’s disgusting
and everyone’s had enough of
smoke and (sideview) mirrors
totally fed up with the oil wars
and those big machines
tearing into the earth

when the economy nearly died
a few years back
and gas prices
ripped wallets and families apart
I threw up my arms
and grew out my hair and beard
and bought a one-way ticket
to the land of confusion

january two thousand sixteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

black hole sun

the enemy is always within
even in a house built on dreams
seemingly immune to bad news
never teetering on the edge

the enemy awakens out of thin air
like a ghost in the dark
nowhere to hide and nobody to haunt

the enemy is merely a reflection
of something long ago promising
where over the course of time
fades by way of a dying sun

may two thousand fifteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

her world as she knew it

they say there is no setting
or rising of the sun
they say it is always there
and it’s just your imagination
that sometimes it is not

with that in mind I stood at the
doorstep and handed a child
paper and markers and
asked her to interpret the
world as she knew it

from inside her mind she drew
countless circles orbiting
infinite stars
and every now and then
she placed a new moon
where you’d least expect it

I wondered how many of her
suns supported life as we know it
and as I was about to ask her
she told me she needed
more space and time

september two thousand fourteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Watching a Petal

With exact timing the rain-soaked branchlet
released water-droplets; while below
a soft, geranium petal strained to reach
the four o’clock sun, its efforts deterred
by a consistent explosion of sorts.

originally penned circa nineteen ninety-two
audio recorded june two thousand fourteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

far side of the sun

amid dark winter nights
I lay out glorious plans
to conquer the seed
the wind and the rain

the whiteness of the world
inspires me to envision
perfect days where irises
bloom under moonlight

sacred revolutions seem
as remote as paradise
testing my patience
from far away places

january two thousand fourteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

sometime before the sun

I awoke violently
as if someone had grabbed my
shoulders and shook me
with all their might

Gasping for breath
as if dying or coming to life
I recall striving to push my imagination
from beneath the surface
out-chasing the nightmare
that is the unborn

Within the darkness
I hushed myself back to sleep
pretending nothing
ever happened to the sun

december two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

morning blue

I love to play the piccolo
just before the birds awaken

my own imagination
enters their waking dreams

before the song is over
and just as the sun starts to smile
trillions of feathers
usher in the morning blue

november two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

waiting for the sun

born into the dark ages
the children loved to listen
to the chronicles of the sun
rising above the hills and
making everything on earth
supernaturally magical

august two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

first blanket

the ancient ocean gave birth
to fertile earth admired from afar
worked by hands never seen

from its soil a new creation evolved
assisted by elements capable
of producing wind and fire

seedlings awakened and stretched
and instinctively sought to reach
the warmth of the outer dome

brown and green gradually gathered
throughout the valley
weaving itself into a blanket
of outlandish colors

november two thousand twelve
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

December Sun

Bottle the warmth
of late August
stow it where
no one
will guess.

When the sub-zero
midwestern storm
uncap the sample–
stay warm
until the thaw.

December Sun
click here for youtube video

poem and image by j matthew waters
copyright nineteen ninety-three
all rights reserved

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