jdubqca

poetry by j matthew waters

Archive for the category “Dreams”

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

change in scenery


lost in pages near open window
intermittent sunshine
partners with sporadic showers
inducing notions of contemplation

yesterday but an afterthought
like unfinished daydreams
shadowy figurines creeping
along walls of unforgiving concrete

having concluded another story
you allow your eyes to rest
welcoming a newfound breeze
cooler than the days before




june two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

saturday afternoon matinee


I first saw you in a movie
your lines were well rehearsed
an unforgettable voice
repeatedly calling my name

as much I wanted to return
I couldn’t bear to see you again
knowing your lines
(though well rehearsed)
were never meant for me

in my dreams
we meet frequently
but it was always
a one-sided conversation
one that I can no longer
bear to repeat

I’ve since come to understand
we were never really there
and I was always left
to my own devices
uttering words sometimes
meant to be written down
other times simply regrettable




may two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

cool and dark blue change


do not try to put into focus
that which remains blurred
let it fuse into nothingness
as it was meant to be

forget about putting into words
unspeakable thoughts
rather let such notions disperse
like dandelion spores

those premonitions interloping
between dreamlike states
learn to let them escape your grasp
relish in their freedom

once finding clarity in belief
you may then proceed
accepting the terms of darkness
and its mystic promise




may two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

midmorning visions


settling into melancholic reflection
off and on rain and weakening sun
falling behind green glistening treeline
a reminder how tricks of the mind
turn fact into fiction

I’ve seen this scenery off and on
but each time the outcome varies
especially come midmorning
eyelids repeatedly blinking
dreams working overtime

though sunlight often penetrates
past horizontal slats
many times it’s nothing but madness
mysteriously flickering off and on
desperately trying to awaken me




may two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

sweet imagination


on a sunny sunday afternoon
we entertained
possibilities of what could be

sitting on metal chairs
cushions still in garage
lemon beer tasting ever so sweet
we pointed at unshakable signs
better things sure to come

there were many yesterdays
full of fear and hurt and doubt
but today is what you would call
a new world order

you see the mystery cat
has returned in all his glory
sporting a wide brimmed hat
entertaining us with a song and dance
smiling for the cameras




may two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all right reserved

unrealistic expectations


recreating that which transpired ages ago
like piecing together an impossible puzzle
patching together squares of unrelated fabric
having no business being stitched together

there’s a timepiece strapped to my wrist
and I’ve no means of removing it
ticking like some roadside bomb
waiting for the perfect time to explode

I’ve nowhere to go except forward
strapped in boots and marching through
frozen grass icing over like a stream
old familiar territory once made of concrete

there’s a house up ahead I know it well
an old childhood friend used to live there
how many times I’ve been drawn inside
a world where I was always welcomed

it’s early but not too early
the sun arising
shining upon the front screen door

before I am able to knock
a child appears
our eyes meeting inquisitively

the child’s eyes give way to a man
about my own age
pushing open the door and telling me
he’s not been well
and that he’s been expecting me




april two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all right reserved

reminiscing in the southern hemisphere


I’m lost again
somewhere in the middle of argentina
faraway from the capital
where the air is clean
and the mountains are nearby
where I can practice my spanish
without criticism or second thoughts
trying to put onto paper
how I miss the mystery
of the mediterranean
whether it be in southern europe
or north africa
(and all points in between)
occasionally looking up to the heavens
pen tapping the side of my
near-empty pint glass
my uninterrupted thoughts
invoking the poetry gods
to give me courage to return home
one last time




april two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

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