Barefoot Poetry

SS Matthews


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Driftwood

A ceaseless current rolls its course as surface oscillations-
archetypes of the human mind, in endless fascination,
seek the swifter water where the elemental flows.

Barnacles bleached and drying cling to underlying form,
all my expectations wash like driftwood to the shore,
tossed to beach and dying in the aftermath of storm-

One more piece of flotsam set adrift from isle to isle,
powers unperturbed propel this raft of dreams I ride.

Overhead a field of blue, a blazing, sullen sky,
erases known horizons,
conjures islands through refraction,
life is liquid in reflection,
on a string of faceless landfalls spread
in giant strides apart.

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The Lighter Side of Blind

The only thing worse than being blind is having sight but no vision- Helen Keller
Hellen Keller

Vision might be described as the ability to see what lies before you, rather than what you wish was there. Vision might also be described as the ability to recreate the world as you go. Come explore Feverish Dreams, images of what may or may not exist, depending on your vision. Available at Amazon May 2014 by SS Matthews


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Fever of Dreams

Our truest life is when we are in dreams awake-Henry David Thoreau

We are taught to pursue our dreams, those things we may envision, but sometimes what we dream takes us down different roads indeed! SS Matthews

Feverish Dreams
Available today at Amazon
Poetry from the hidden side of mind by SS Matthews.


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Stainless

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Bringing a blush, roses tossed to the lips of cumulus clouds,
The sun sets soft as December swells splashing against my balance.
Length of graphite in my hand, points my arm Atlantic.

Pelicans ply the wake of Dolphins leaping home.
Gulls scraping surface slicks for scraps,
Glide beneath a misted orb materializing above the horizon,
Silhouetting their silk smooth outlines against its brightening shine.

Seeking his place in the universe, another fisherman wades past,
Distorting a perfect proportion between life and limitation.
With my back to the breath of God, I nod.

Burdened by desire, he needs to wade deeper.
Buoyant in this moment’s grace, I am weightless,
A reflection of moonlight rising toward a sea of stainless stars.

Poetry and Photography by SS Matthews


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As Butter Bye the Window Flies

Profundity pours from the morning pot
black and steaming, streaming into my mug.
Spare no drop for the kitchen rug.
This drug may stain, but caffeine drips in nicks of time
dispelling dust clouds from my mind.

All mine, this early moment’s space, with just a hint of dawning grace
before this city’s race of rats stampede the status quo.
Where did it go?
Once crisp as fresh wheat toast, this brain,
clearly soaked and butter stained.

To that jar of multi vitamins I am inconstant friend
Take with caps of Red Yeast Rice,
Why cleanse blood cells of every vice?
Potato baked but falsely spread, will scrub the plaque,
will clear my head, rid me of dementia’s dread?

Alas, my father’s bane became a raven at my window pane.
Rapping beak upon the glass, through sharp black eyes,
I grasp at last the deadly call.

Yoga breath helps draw away the draperies of a winter’s day
so light may spill on fresh found wits,
half way won and not unfit
to fight the fated doom.

New broom.

Outside a world of wonder waits.
Be there now, don‘t meditate.

My dark recedes in thin disguise
as butter by the window flies.

Poetry by SS Matthews


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Byways

Your golden eyes glisten to glitter.
How they sparkle to glamour’s hard shine.
On laurels your trophies retire,
As proof you are doing just fine.

I hate you! I fear you! I love you!
Possess a sunset’s depth before dusk.
But burst from your mass of turbulent air
In explosions of lightning and lust.

I conceded your needs in compassion,
Eye to eye and unwilling to hide.
My finest ideals, romantic appeals
are but trivial thorns in your side.

You charmed a dreamer’s naiveté’,
Through the mirror of passionless lies,
Finding no way past reflections,
I rebound from your pain and reply-

Cruise ships, jet planes and Volvos,
May form the caravan carting your dreams,
But they travel the same burnt out byways
Through landscapes of life never seen.

So I choose a path, I know to be
One thing that is truly my own.
I watch stars shatter, flash and congeal
As steps along my journey home.

SS Matthews