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poetry by j matthew waters

Archive for the tag “hope”

Chapter Five

from the book of revelation

the boss
held his possessions closely
encrypted them within seven seals

the pain he must feel
becomes real tears streaming
live down so many faces

pelted with insults his child
refuses to die
reaches out to a world
programmed to never understand
their own ransom

new generations give forth
a sense of promise
offering peace on earth (for the)
next thousand years

newly created criminals
and their invisible entourage
emerge as expected
floating like butterflies and
stinging like bees


august two thousand fourteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

lost continents


they sailed along silver waves
in search of higher lands
the maps in their hands
aligned with ancient stars
that never shined so bright

under the bridge women rocked
stitching winter clothing
the children praying
for a higher power
to free them from their plight

as years turned into decades
mountains slowly emerged
caverns like beacons
calling forth their vessels
to dock within the light


september two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

jars of light


nobody asked me to share
my dreams with anyone
so I kept them to myself
nurtured them as best I could

in the middle of the night
silence awakened me
beckoned me to walk alone
in streets that never sleep

along the way I imagined
the sad ones called my name
reaching out like lonely stars
dying to find a home

I gathered them in jars
full of oxygen and hope
promised to return again
when eyes are laid down low



september two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

the escort


you entered my life
in a most unexpected way
leaving me to dwell
on all things
naturally good
giving me a sliver of hope
for achieving peace
within
before i am escorted
out the door

december two thousand twelve
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

the guardian


you entered the ward
with a smile in your eye
quietly knelt beside me
and whispered of a world
where the dazzling white light
promises to free me
from the pain inside


october two thousand twelve
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

without a wish


the river ran dry
the year of the drought
collapsing the water table
atop its own legs

the wishing well closed
from lack of moisture
turning back all the day dreamers
hoping for change


september two thousand twelve
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

time capsule


thirty years to the day
the old man buried a box
wrapped in plastic
on the border of his property

he recalled the idea
of hiding treasures
complemented his playfulness
agreed with his sensibilities

even though he knew
exactly where to go
he sat at the table
and unfolded the map
he had crafted at age fifty

life had been a blur until then
he remembered
and for the first time he swore
he had changed somehow

when he traced his finger
to the spot past the juniper trees
the items he would soon recover
flashed before him
as distant memories
slowly coming into focus

march, two thousand twelve
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

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