wood burning stove
boastful & bright
a child & her bear toasty warm
asleep in the nursery
newly minted wishes
playing out in dreamland
the clock in hallway
completing the countdown
chiming twelve times
december two thousand twenty-four
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
there’s no sense in testing the water
it’s the same as it’s ever been
every wednesday morning at nine
the city tests the loudspeaker system
one day it’ll prove itself to be futile
or utile —it’s funny how only time will tell
lenny kravitz sings about getting away
I tap my foot & chime in right out loud
replacing his simple words with mine
as if I’m some sort of ad lib junkie
knowing I’ve not a say in the matter
nor interested in wishing it all away
november two thousand twenty-two
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
she wished upon a star
so many years ago
sitting on the front porch step
I don’t even remember
if she knew I was there
she spotted them falling
one after the other
and was certain she caught
the first very one
and I wondered
what she had wished for
across the way
a street lamp flickered on
and I waltzed home in the twilight
may two thousand sixteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
I hadn’t wished for anything in about a year
so I said something out of the blue
and next thing I knew somebody was listening
to my ramblings while I later enjoyed
previously unreleased work
by james taylor
(I found myself singing along
as if I knew every word by heart)
I wished I hadn’t said some things
when I was drunk on cheap vodka
and highly potent craft porter
but that’s the way the cookie crumbles
especially the ones making a big old mess
on my walter payton jersey
freshly stained with spilt milk
november two thousand fifteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
those stars we used to wish upon
the ones first appearing in the twilight
or the ones falling from the
sky while sitting on the front porch step
where have they gone
now when you need them the most
sometimes I think of a certain star
that shined so bright it had no choice
but to crash and burn in some
remote forest you’ve never heard
those are the kinds of stars I miss the most
this universe is nothing but a free verse
poem with a little sizzle and endless syllables
spherically rotating around your ever
expanding mind
your inner child
charting the course of events
of every single moving object
december two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
the river ran dry
the year of the drought
collapsing the water table
atop its own legs
the wishing well closed
from lack of moisture
turning back all the day dreamers
hoping for change
september two thousand twelve
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
wishes will always live
in so many forms
health, happiness and wealth
something as grand
as world peace
or refreshing
as a family in harmony
strangely beautiful words
wish to find true colors
worthy of painting
a world beyond tomorrow
june two thousand twelve
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
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