poetry by j matthew waters

Archive for the tag “whiskey”

whiskey in the jar

monday in july
midday sun weighs on my
mundane thoughts
oscillating fan stuck on low
collar unbuttoned and stained
wandering thoughts leading me
to wonder what the night will bring

there’s whiskey in the jar
within arm’s reach
reminds me of old irish songs
and heavy metal music
taking me back to the summer
of nineteen seventy-eight
when days were so much simpler

july two thousand nineteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

slight chance of rain

the sun she is setting
radiating a cloudless sky
casting a spectrum of colors
before my tired eyes

within arms reach
a jar of whiskey speaks to me
whispering my name
like my lover used to do

the sun she has fallen
taking with her promises
of meteor showers
and brighter tomorrows

the whiskey ages
in my unstoppable dreams
slowly separating from the jar
as the night rages on

april two thousand nineteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Templeton Rye

It was whiskey Friday
and though possessing neither
we toasted to fortune and fame

Bowie streams through building speakers
giving pause to everyone inside
taking notice of day and time

Just when you thought
forty hours was more than enough
whiskey Friday arrives unannounced
breathing new life into free-flowing ideas
young and old alike

november two thousand seventeen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

roller coaster road

whiskey god turns over the keys
at supersonic speeds
cutting to the chase and racing
through the royal countryside

he doesn’t care about the time
of day just as long as shots
ring across the center white line
like exaggerated backfire

they follow the scent all the way
along roller coaster road
like a couple of grim characters
out looking for a good time

once reaching the crossroad
whiskey god hurls the
blazing sun into the guardrail
putting an end to their perfect day

april two thousand fourteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Big Time in Reno

I made my way to Reno by accident
with a woman much older than her age.
She said she knew a married man there
who seemed to have a ton of money.

It didn’t take long before she left me
for a drifter with some blow, so I decided
Reno was as good a spot as any
where I could work on my old acoustic.

By day I had a gig dealing twenty-one
at Fitzgeralds; earned enough in tips
to keep my lungs full of Old Golds
and my lips wet with whiskey or rye.

I kept telling myself I’m gonna make it big
in Nashville one day, but until then
I just kept singing my railroad songs
for the cockroaches in the rafters.

november two thousand twelve
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Post Navigation

%d bloggers like this: