jdubqca

poetry by j matthew waters

Archive for the category “Dreams”

winter on our continent


heavy is the rain falling on disquieted river
awakened from a disturbing dream
troubling and bone-chilling
springing forth afterburning energy
recycled into virgin snow
gently blanketing mountaintops



september two thousand seventeen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

children playing in the park


I see her running down the same dream
dressed in white to match her riding horses
locks untamed and slightly afire
tricked into going this way (then that)
ultimately cornered by the eye of the sun

there was nothing left to be done except
bury the dream someone tried to say

that’s laughable they cried in return
for shame
for shame



september two thousand seventeen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

promise not to die


there was scattered lightness
creeping through low lying clouds
but not a witness to testify

darkest part of morning awakens
most everybody asleep inside boxes
lost inside other lands
or sleepcrawling upside down

wake up wake up barn owl cries
mocking the mockingbird
circling rustic citadel
once holding some significance

sometimes scattered lightness
never materializes
and there is this retreatment of sorts
like closing your eyes
promising to never open them again



august two thousand seventeen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

dragon of my dreams


paint a pretty picture and play me a ditty
project brand new images inside this
lethargic and melancholic reverie

there are prized creatures to be caught
larger than anything this lake has ever seen
monstrous with fiery eyes and razor-sharp teeth
meandering and beautifully frightful

I’ve harnessed the wind using magical spells
cast upon my newfound partner
a ferocious winged dragon needing direction

together we paint pretty pictures in the skies
and play the most joyful ditties
swooping o’er the lake and taming the serpent
projecting brand new images for all to see



august two thousand seventeen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

literary incendiaries


clearly he sought a connection
one in which nobody in the world
could ever have dreamed

how quickly one learns stars are stirred
beneath the belly of its creator
like a newly born burrowing mammal
drawn to its first light

and so he imagined there were only
three worlds to discover
        the second of which
lies upon the surface itself



july two thousand seventeen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

inspiring to be free


it’s three o’clock and I’ve no place to go
whether it be day or night
or minutes before or seconds after

physically I am not paralyzed
though my mind is working on making it so
playing on the pretense
I have the power to make time stand still

birdsongs stream through an open window
a background score composed and
recorded by a higher power

like a man in a trance I rise to the occasion
and find myself reaching out into the darkness
collecting whole notes and half notes
quarter notes and many other partial notes
stashing them into a leather satchel
so that I may later release them
after I am well on my way



june two thousand seventeen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

georgia


nothing is real
not even the exception to the rule
to which you have seemed
to execute to perfection

I’ve chased down
many a dream with no end
only to pick things back up
exactly where you left them

you leap from tree to
tree with relative ease
repeating in my mind like a
hand-made picture show

I toss it aside
carefully behind a bush
thinking there’s a good chance
I want to retrieve it

I always tell myself
you should have told me
to stop swinging for the fences
a long long time ago



june two thousand seventeen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

only dreaming


I showed up with plenty of time to spare
so I ordered myself a beer

nothing was really happening and I began
to wonder what brought me here

perhaps we had met in a previous lifetime
and me being here
was nothing more than a memory

or perhaps I’m still alive and only daydreaming



june two thousand seventeen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Twilight Zone


I’ve always wondered what would happen
if I drew back the red curtain
would there really be a stage for me
to embrace and be myself
or would it just be a wall
rusty red and falling apart

but that’s another story to be told some day
when the last thing you care to know
is how the messenger had been cheated

there are no bullets to be found anywhere
but the gun is still warm
talk is cheap but there is plenty of it
perpetuating rumors of manslaughter

police helicopters pretend to be beacons
but night is already day and they are useless
easy targets for anyone from the madhouse
to take them down one by one



june two thousand seventeen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved


Author’s Note:
This poem is loosely based on the
song of the same name by Golden Earring

daydreaming at night


I’ve not seen it all
this movie that weaves
in and out of close encounters

actors are not what they seem
on any kind of stage
whether supported on oak trestles
or razor thin wire

the money flows like milk and money
brewed and bottled on the black market
where trade secrets are available for sale
anywhere from one to a million bitcoin

sometimes I like to daydream
during the night
just to shake things up
excited to rehearse those parts
I’m least familiar with



may two thousand seventeen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

shadow in my periphery


there is a shadow in my periphery
merely a glimmer of my future self

the moment I sense its presence
it reshapes itself and disappears
leaving behind a lingering desire

that which cannot be defined
interrupts my ordinary days with
perfectly placed subliminal messages

I’ve learned to decode and encrypt
slowly making sense of my former life
diligently uncovering its suppressed dreams

little did I know the shadow in my periphery
was nothing but an outcast heart seeking light



april two thousand seventeen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

brick by brick


I’ve seen the future unfold
like a flower without a name
like a child without a home

the recent past soon enough
becomes all but translatable
like a familiar foreign language
like a lost memory
resurfacing
inside someone else’s dream

this road has been lowered
only to be risen time and again
each time you are there in some
shape or form
sometimes dragging the dirt
other times on your hands and knees
paving the way



april two thousand seventeen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

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