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poetry by j matthew waters

Archive for the category “Dreams”

promise me one thing


it was saturday morning
and you promised we would
pick flowers unless it rained

the rain never came
and neither did you
and I was left rearranging
my hopes inside a brown paper bag

next day the sun shined
like it had never done before
and for a brief moment I believed
this time you would come around




august two thousand nineteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

occurrences at the break of dawn


I’ve repeating dreams
experiencing violent deaths
but each morning
I awaken unharmed

the occurrences are infrequent
but make no mistake
the pattern cannot be overlooked
each episode unrelated to the next

periodically I wonder
or better yet analyze the meaning
behind these dreams
whether what I’m witnessing
has absolutely nothing to do with me
and everything to do with you




august two thousand nineteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

call me up in the middle of the night


I wake up and I’ve got nothing to say
rather listening to birdsong
infiltrating through screen windows
reminding me the need to sing like them

it seems to me they know something
more about life than they let on
leading me to believe I should spend
less time hanging out in the weeds

I’ve been busy making birdhouses
mainly because I don’t know
how to build a rose

I’ve been busy navigating maps
designed to get me from this point
to the next sunrise

it seems to me that by this time
I should know something more than you
but truth be told we were both born
with all the knowledge in the world

I wake up and find myself whistling
a song I learned long ago
a little ditty always close to my heart
whether wide awake or dreaming




july two thousand nineteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

the damsel and her prince


let me dream like never before
cast into a strange accepting world
living and breathing effortlessly
neither on land nor in sea
rather somewhere in between

here there is no such thing
as rest or sleep or fantasy
always on the move like damselflies
flitting from flower to flower
kissing ghost-like amphibians




july two thousand nineteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

the dawn chorus


first there was the final dream
approaching morning light
bedroom curtains breathing in and out
mimicking my own circadian rhythm
and welcoming the dawn chorus

birds beginning to think it’s spring
how they invade my subconscious
pretending to be children
reincarnated from fallen leaves
singing from the tallest trees

one morning that will be me
having not awakened from the dream
free falling like a leaf among many
reaching out and believing
finally participating in the dawn chorus




july two thousand nineteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

what have I become


how am I to follow suit
on such a sorrowful day
sun beating down so hard
keeping even ants
from working on the hill

he had died in my dream
countless times
but now that I’m older
than the dream itself
others may visualize
my youthful presence
as a mere memory

I never should have followed
irrational commands
disturbing the soil
where the earth god
works her timeless magic

what have I become
if not a shadow
of my former self
having shed thoughts
of those who made me
instead focused
on rebuilding hills I once
foolishly destroyed




july two thousand nineteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

maximizing net pleasure


she sang and danced in my sleep
arousing my senses and touching my heart
making me believe she was all I needed
from this day unto eternity

once awakening I felt exhausted
having lost patience and time and body weight
attempting to relive what had transpired
before it was forever gone

there is this overwhelming desire
residing in the recesses of a curious mind
creating and recreating an epicurean reality
momentary and indescribable




june two thousand nineteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

stranger in a foreign land


I’ve lost my way or so it seems
streets and faces anything but familiar
I fear I may have awakened from
another man’s dream
transplanted if you may
and tasked to piece together a past
found in this place and time

I did not ask for this life
but neither do I recall the former
where people knew my name
and I learned to grow old reluctantly

but now I find myself young again
sensing purpose in my gait
as I continue to weave
my way through this
city of diversity
beginning to believe
there is purpose yet to be found





june two thousand nineteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

I died in my dream last night


do you remember me
I was the one who died in his
sleep last night

as I recall you were with me
and I had pleaded
that you slow things down
but we went veering off the path anyway
projected into an orbit
defying quantum mechanics

it wasn’t the first time
I went sailing off into space
never to return
the world below me gradually
becoming smaller
the next one
suddenly
becoming familiar





may two thousand nineteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

late bloomers


it still feels like April
the world going nowhere fast
like a vinyl forty-five spinning
soundlessly on a turntable

of course there’s nothing
wrong with slowing things down
at least according to Simon
who relentlessly kicks
down cobblestones

cool rain comes and goes
like a game of peek-a-boo
tamping down
good-intentioned deeds
and daffodil dreams

despite all the outside noise
a quietness remains within
silently reminding you
there’s always a way out





may two thousand nineteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

once there was a way


do not confuse my words with reality
they are conjured at night while my eyes
are rapidly interpreting current events
sometimes seizing the moment
like a champion in the ring
other times adrift at sea
neither lost nor found
but diligently tracking familiar stars
eventually finding my way back home





april two thousand nineteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

I can’t change


no I don’t hate you
in fact I don’t know you
know not where you
live or what you stand for
the color of your hair or eyes
the language that you speak
or religion [if any] you practice

no I don’t hate you
fact is I adore you [from
a great distance] like a dream
long ago escaping me
leaving me aching and asking
how can I ever get back
to a place that never was





march two thousand nineteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

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