jdubqca

poetry by j matthew waters

Archive for the category “Dreams”

mourning dove


do not say a word my love
let this moment stay awhile
like a painting on loan
temporarily free for all to see

one night I dreamed we kissed
beneath artificial lights
our surreal solitary star
undetected yet pulsating

once morning arrives
I awake to singing voices
projecting shadows
on my wall of memory




october two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

like a bat out of hell


there was no dalliance
it was all a dream
how it seemed so real
by the time I woke up
I felt guilty as sin

you two are thick as thieves
the warden said
in that movie
or was it a Stephen King
short story

I awoke in a sweat
glock ticking on bed stand
safety all set
tick tick ticking away
tempting me to hit snooze

I didn’t feel lucky
having no idea how many
bullets if any
remained in the chamber
so I quietly backed away

and so there she had me
backed up against a wall
demanding all over again
what’s it going to be
what’s it going to be




september two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

there at the end of the road


how can I possibly change now
or can I see the world in a whole new light
a paradigm shift so to speak
where I am no longer the victim
but savior of my own home town

I didn’t return here only to be idle
someone said there were roads to lay
replacing gravel with yellow bricks
all the way from otter’s creek
to the mouth of the mighty river

and there at the end of the road
(or shall I say the beginning)
there I stand wading in the water
like the renegade baptist himself
proclaiming the possibility of a new life
to those who dare to dream




september two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

voice recordings from the past


I do not miss the old days
(or the olds ways as they remain)
I simply sit and take to daydreaming
reminiscing and contemplating
those pivotal moments
(as I see them)
how they may or may not have
contributed to my curious fate

how far I’ve come in this strange
illusion known as time
but in reality how little I’ve traveled
back and forth from strange lands
both real and imaginary
sometimes the hero
other times the goat
always judged by anyone and everyone
save the almighty herself

I’m content finding new ways
in saying the same old thing
whether it be this spring or summer
or the coming autumn or winter
how I want to record them all
time and time again
be it poetry or prose
be it in writing or otherwise




september two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

from the book of Jonah


what’s that inside your belly
swimming around
in a world all unto itself

how do you sleep at night
eyes wide open
welcoming anything
wanting to explore deep inside
like time travelers hell bent on
finding the next milky way

sometimes you imagine
morning will never come
cat scratching at the screen
more or less a metaphor
seeking shelter
or simply acceptance




september two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

final curtain call


morning rains have yet to fall
but already I hear it pounding
repeatedly on the concrete
interrupting third act
of my long-standing dream

it’s impossible to control crowds
once making mad dashes
leaving lone gunman isolated
taking potshots at moon phases
painted on domed ceilings

smoke billowing out windows
deputies arrive from all over
precisely securing the perimeter
omniscient orders echoing
come out with your hands up




august two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

mockingbird


close your eyes and count backwards from three
and see what the world will give you

close your eyes and make a wish you’ve never wished before

to be sure your soul may be hurting but there is nothing
wrong with your sight or your heart or your mind

hush little baby and close your big beautiful eyes
for it’s time to dream of new worlds that await you

hush little baby and let loose your imagination
and whatever it is you may do
please don’t you cry




july two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Temporary memories


I’ve lost my way in search of truth
whether it be fact or fiction
questioning whether accepting more
correlates to receiving less

As years pass my heart swells
and my eyesight worsens
both troubled by the sign of the times

I’m reluctant to concede to pressure
managing to infiltrate my downtime
whether it be deep in sleep
or quiet contemplation

In the morning I find comfort
anticipating the rising of the sun
whether apparent or behind clouds




july two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

bringing clarity to your desires


despite desiring discipline in your world
you subconsciously remain unfocused
channeling your passion toward the unknown
and rubbing shoulders with forces not seen

old souls sidestepping in the shadows
just as lonely and desperate as the living
serenading their favorite verses a cappella
barely audible through plastered walls

well past midnight you are restlessly asleep
contemplating many intriguing options
playing them out in your so-called dreams
operating with full force your physical being




july two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

out on work release


I had this vision I would bring
cold beers to prison workers
paving county roads
temperatures exceeding
one hundred degrees fahrenheit
bright orange shirts drenched in sweat

I had parked in the shade half an hour
before quitting time
kept the pickup idling with the AC on
beers in the truck bed
iced down in the big red cooler
ballgame streaming on AM radio




july two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

one warm winter’s night


you come to me as a spirit
poking and prodding and
whispering sweet discretions in my ear
but I am fast asleep like a bear hibernating
periodically shivering
but mainly motionless and soundless
secretly enjoying a series of
interconnected dreams
leading me from one kiss to the next




july two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

wander this world


what is to become of me my love
now that the sun shines anew

tomorrow was meant for dreams
an inheritance of possibilities
unfulfilled by your sudden departure

hesitant to wander this world again
I beg the sun to sink no further
praying your undying love
resurfaces as you once promised




june two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

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