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poetry by j matthew waters

Archive for the category “Dreams”

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

No particular place to go


I slept in on Sunday morning
and when I awoke I didn’t know
what day it was

I had been dreaming about time
travel and god knows
how many centuries I covered
that last hour

If it wasn’t for the sudden urge
that startled me awake
I probably would have witnessed the
birth of a King

After I had emptied my confusion
into the toilet bowl
I came to the realization I had
no place to go
other than the hardware store
to purchase
a replacement stopper



april two thousand seventeen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

catching up with the midnight rider


I miss everything reckless
and I’m bound and determined
to make another run at it
barreling down river road
giving chase to the current

most times it’s impossible
to catch the leader (of the pack)
let alone decipher exactly
who put what in motion

even without all the facts
I’m prepared to move on
singing a song I’ve not forgotten
when once upon a time
I dreamed I was a little girl



march two thousand seventeen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

    a higher level


    it started from no single event
    like global warming did

    or the demise of a species

    first he borrowed some
    free time and stuffed it into
    an ornate box

    lined with red velvet
    it was furnished with a
    red-cushioned chair

    a painting
    unbeknownst to none
    hung from one of the walls

    but he kept his eyes closed
    sinking into the chair
    barely breathing

    eventually the air collapsed upon
    itself

    until inside the box was nothing
    but a passing thought



    february two thousand seventeen
    copyright j matthew waters
    all rights reserved

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