jdubqca

poetry by j matthew waters

Archive for the category “Dreams”

asylum seeker


I was listening to rock and roll
like I tend to do after midnight
eyes closed and breathing deeply
allowing every chord and note and lyric
to possess my otherwise vacant space

I find myself climbing stone walls
wondering if paradise resides
somewhere on the other side
and for some reason I am smiling
as I methodically scale the barrier

comfortably seated on the top ledge
one song ends and another begins
observing without judgment either side
one in which I’ll always know by heart
the other my soul destined to love




january two thousand nineteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

counting sheep on a sunday night


it’s getting late and poetry escapes me
my favorite moon having left me for another

lying down and I give in to silence
barely breathing in the dead of night
counting blessings and honestly questioning
whether or not I can feel my age-old bones

two scores ago I’d be falling fast asleep
transistor radio my only companion
rhythmically influencing my dreams
mysteriously quiet come mid-morning

if I could escape I certainly would
exploring the night like an owl or dormouse
flying high above or crawling on all fours
secretly returning home in the nick of time

it’s getting late and poetry escapes me
the midnight hour peacefully drawing near




january two thousand nineteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

my story retold in the third person


these flashbacks
occurring with greater frequency
how young will I be
three or four hours from now
once giving in to the idea
the night is endless

I’ve come to accept
they’re no longer merely dreams
rather ageless recordings
reshuffled and replaying
a not too distant past
from a totally different perspective

at three-thirty in the morning
I’m wide awake
and quite positive
I’ve always been fast asleep




january two thousand nineteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

the further away it seems


my worst fears
but a window to the world
exposing my hopes and dreams
as if they don’t belong to me

elbows on window sill
eyes blinking shut
palms supporting chin
mind delving deeper in thought

lonesome mockingbird
outside looking in
echoing a song I’ve yet to begin

some say I’m on my way
I say I’m already there
arms stretched out
and welcoming a light
that naturally never ends




december two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

the greatest quest


locked inside this snow white cube
I secretly dream of making
my great escape
unfreezing time by traveling
to a distant land
or leaping forward
into another dimension

I’ve been invited to do this before
but always backed down
at the final hour
afraid of heightening my
self-awareness
and finally achieving
my true potential




december two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

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

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