The Flickr Jameswatkins Image Generatr

oceans are dreams (jhwatkins)

Oceans are dreams, that rise and fall
beyond the conscious mind.
Vast volumed vaults transitioning-
rolling ridges ranging high.

Joined with all creation,
dance-like liquid living beings-
quiet, dark depths of passion fire-
eternally careening.

Held in viscous vision,
caught between the separate worlds-
all heaven and earthy creature-
floating figured forms unfurled.

Ghosts-aglow and gaping-
gathered gremlins, timeless trails-
beyond all thought or reason-
hidden highways, watery veils.

Desperate, driven, hungry hunters-
casual commerce-bloody blades.
Liquid-larcened fathoms fallen,
fevered fits in cavalcade.

Contrasts, calm and constant-
consummation, cold desire-
carefully crushed by eons,
in vile volcanic fire.

Down some corridor they creep-
until in rest revealed-
unto the doubting dreamers-
caustic children, filled with fear.

Decision paths of plans performed,
adrift in thoughtless themes.
Gathered golden wisdom,
wrapped in scientific schemes.

Predetermined, parliamentary,
railing posted parts prevail-
racked with frail-formed falsities
in fictional detail.

Loving lost the guide unseen
that rules the changeless world-
and brings us back to view the sea
in vision's vacuumed swirl.

Childlike faith-vast beauty breathed,
an author, bold and bare-
for silence sake, stark stepping stones-
it's wealth unfolding fair.

Troll the tame and turning tide,
that flows in measured ebb.
Rolled rhythmic rows of constancy
in concentrated web.

Held hot the hidden history,
revealing holy fare-
formed fellowships and mysteries-
plain patterns painted there.

To see the unseen signature-
to touch the untouched realm-
to gaze at guardian glory...
graced...
by Starred..
Ascending..
Stair.

James watkins (April 2004)

Revolutions (JHWatkins 2024)

The beginning found the smallest place to start
It came directly from the heart
One word rose lonely from the core
Revolutions spun slowly from that sudden spore
Revelation removed from time
Flooded cracks along a line
Intersected by a space
Then folded neatly into place
It came to rest inside of me
Completed formed within the tree
Down the slap slide slips to root
A family gained with spares to boot
This moment turns to tame the tide
Fear's hit the fan no place to hide
Come to heel you quantum fires
Take back the ground and stop the liars-
Round and round and back again
A challenge to the sons of men
To stay upon foundation’s strong
Against the dark….
Before we’re gone…. James Watkins

What Good Are Trees

What good are trees,
If I miss the heart that spun the seed,
That dreamed the dream,
That danced nuclear in first fiery moments,
Before colors collided on patterns woven in atomic autumns
And stardust stellar stadiums of wintry dawns-

When moons rose only on waters that stilled the night,
Reflecting the light that ended eras,
That moved the mountains,
Before the oceans swept canyons clean of crust
And prepared tables for grasses to grow?

What good are wings,
If wonder does not take flight,
In wild woods bearing the breath of winds,
That hang cloud soft in southern summers,
Where soaring birds draft
Towering tides of unseen waves
Riding currents, swirling in springs of hope,
Hidden in hills, that no one knows?

What good is hope
That shares nothing in conception,
And wonders without warm witness in cold stolen hours,
Longing in lonely moments, that come only once,
Heave hot and holy breath for seconds,
Then pass without planting or gathering
From the soil of life and the strength of tears
That know the awe of this moment’s birth.

J.H. Watkins 01-09

Mountains (James Watkins)

mountains grand and gazing-
pillars standing tall-
piercing passioned histories-
hidden in their walls.

delving downward distances-
caverns large and small-
mutant molten metal streams-
fused before the fall.

decant demon-ed destinies-
cooling chasmed halls-
dinosaurs and diamond doors
in massive mirrored malls.

heavy, heaving voices
in paradisian sprawl-
fiery fumes of purity-
creation’s curtain call.

subatomic saturation,
soiled, synthetic signs.
righteous restoration
of prehistoric crimes.

tumultuous-
tempestuous-
waning, wasted pearl-
forethought, full and fragile-
foundation of the world.

hidden in the language
of nature’s cresting yore-
cracked beneath
the stress and strain-
crumbling at the core.

tiny tidbits torn and tumbling-
wiggling in the storm-
recipes and remedies-
chemically reborn.

thickened soups and swirling haze-
brooding-steaming-scorn-
clashing reams of violent schemes-
valleys ripped and torn.

balance within balances,
scrambled eggs at last-
gushing geysered marbled mud
borne before the blast.

consciences of scientists,
syncopated scuds-
bothered by the missing mass-
baffled by the blood.

leaping lemon lizards-
the barn is nearly full-
the hay is neatly in a stack-
the baby’s come full term!

common commonalities,
full circle’s come at last.
see the story in the hills-
yield before your past.

something’s broken,
something’s missing,
something’s come and gone-
something’s at the doorway-
someone’s on the phone.

someone’s at the table-
someone’s on the floor-
someone’s grass
is full of gas-
classical-and more!

rhyming with the timing,
balancing the board-
signals of a sequenced strike,
calm before the storm.

mysteries are meaningful,
when looking at the past.
the scene is somewhat circular,
when stage is come to last.

weakened, muzzled monkeys,
dance before your lord.
the gift of grace is growing cold
squirming on sword.

commentaried cavemen,
come into the fold.
your ears can hear-
your eyes can see-
so come in from the cold.

and listen with some latitude-
to knowledge held in store.
fashioned in the faceless stone
of ancient ocean floor.

squeezed in myriad molecule,
the battle rages on-
raving reverence in reverse
its relevance reformed.

and bow before the evidence-
the courtroom is restored,
through judgment passed,
the script is cast,
in elementary score.

rain fire, you veined volcanoes-
your statement’s on the floor-
and advertise what you surmise-
from secret silent store.

you’ve waltzed in dazzled wonderment-
and touched your maker’s hand,
in timeless thought-
before the fault-
and listened to the plan.

to bring all things to unity-
from eons vile and vast-
to bless-ed end
the future bends,
with glory
unsurpassed.

James Watkins May 2005

The Brightness of Our Childhood (James Watkins)

The brightness of our childhood
is not completely spent-
but stirs again in drifting dreams-
restless and intense.

Rushing upward, out beyond
the envelope of time-
fueled by futures unfulfilled-
destined and divine.

Gloried, glazing glances-
of eternity-
identified by inward guide
sanctified and free.

Einstein has passed beyond
with pieces of the plan.
He bent the chart,
but missed the heart-
to greener grass he ran.

Organized and energized,
he answered aimlessly-
Beyond pure thought,
the artist wrought-
to answer flawlessly.

Explain the beauty of a lake,
or calling of the sea-
the lonely lover, or the lost-
explain these things to me.

Explain the hurting for a friend-
or mother's mournful cry-
the blazing host of stars that sing-
or the moment that we die.

Explain forever, or forgiveness-
explain both wrong and right-
or nature's curse,
the cause rehease-
an answer would be nice.

Or loose the light of childhood-
a flame still burning bright-
consuming fire of destiny-
devouring darkened night.

Return to heights heroic-
be partial in your place-
uniquely primed,
by grace designed,
to answer
with your faith.

James Watkins 03-05

The Brightness of Our Childhood (James Watkins)

The brightness of our childhood
is not completely spent-
but stirs again in drifting dreams-
restless and intense.

Rushing upward, out beyond
the envelope of time-
fueled by futures unfulfilled-
destined and divine.

Gloried, glazing glances-
of eternity-
identified by inward guide
sanctified and free.

Einstein has passed beyond
with pieces of the plan.
He bent the chart,
but missed the heart-
to greener grass he ran.

Organized and energized,
he answered aimlessly-
Beyond pure thought,
the artist wrought-
to answer flawlessly.

Explain the beauty of a lake,
or calling of the sea-
the lonely lover, or the lost-
explain these things to me.

Explain the hurting for a friend-
or mother's mournful cry-
the blazing host of stars that sing-
or the moment that we die.

Explain forever, or forgiveness-
explain both wrong and right-
or nature's curse,
the cause rehease-
an answer would be nice.

Or loose the light of childhood-
a flame still burning bright-
consuming fire of destiny-
devouring darkened night.

Return to heights heroic-
be partial in your place-
uniquely primed,
by grace designed,
to answer
with your faith.

James Watkins 03-05

Board Member James Watkins and College President Dr. Kimberly Blosser at the "Party in the Garden" fundraiser held at Jenkins Hall, September 2023

Board Member James Watkins and College President Dr. Kimberly Blosser at the "Party in the Garden" fundraiser held at Jenkins Hall, September 2023

Board Member James and Martha Watkins at the "Party in the Garden" fundraiser held at Jenkins Hall, September 2023

Board Member James Watkins and CR Suddith at the "Party in the Garden" fundraiser held at Jenkins Hall, September 2023

College Supporters Martha and James Watkins (Board Member) at the Garden Party fundraiser, October 2022

College President Dr. Kimberly Blosser and Board Member James Watkins at the Garden Party fundraiser, October 2022

Jacob Wiles (IT Specalist) and Board Member James and Martha Watkins at the Garden Party fundraiser, October 2022

-.00001 sec before creation...an important time for most..

FOR THOSE INTERESTED I HAVE AN EXHIBITION AT THIS LINK <a href=" www.flickr.com/groups/inspiringcollection/discuss/7215762...

Keeping The Colors Of Light I Saw (JHWatkins)

Keeping the colors of light I saw,
Hidden deep in my heart-
Here, chambered in silence they grow-
Where, watered by time they flow,
To places concealed at the start.

Each shade, a life of its own,
Gathering force like the wind,
Bursting with promise
And purpose renewed,
In heavenly dreams they ascend.

Returning to sources of similar schemes,
Gliding down currents of circular themes,
Reveried ideas of wondrous things,
Calling my mind to attend.

Revelation perpetually rose,
Comically cracked in poetical prose,
Fractured infighting,
Formidable foes,
Deceived by games they portend.

Up through atmospheres,
Right through the stars,
Backed-down multitudes,
Battered and scarred-
Groaning, condoning,
Conditions bizarre,
Where correctional forces contend.

Keeping the colors of light I saw-
Hidden deep in my heart-
Here, chambered in silence they grow-
Shaping the future with wisdom I know,
In places concealed from the start.

JHWatkins

Tournage du film "Bastille Day"
Un thriller américain réalisé par le Britannique James Watkins. La scène de l'attentat. Place Maurice-Chevalier (Paris XXe), au croisement de la rue Julien Lacroix. Derrière le mur, le décor en lamelles de bois : une station de métro qui sort de l'immeuble, un kiosque à journaux…

Us horror fans receive an early New Year’s gift as we return to the notorious haunted abode of Eel Marsh House for Hammer Films’ horror sequel THE WOMAN IN BLACK: ANGEL OF DEATH (or rather THE WOMAN IN BLACK 2: ANGEL OF DEATH as it receives an additional “2” in its title for th...

bit.ly/1BY538H

More proof “She Never Left” the notorious Eel Marsh House is this first clip from Hammer Films’ horror sequel THE WOMAN IN BLACK: ANGEL OF DEATH. The follow-up film, set some 60 years after the bleak events of James Watkins’ adaptation of Susan Hill’s chilling novel, is t...

bit.ly/1vtXL42

Eel Marsh House looks a foreboding presence in this latest UK poster for Hammer Films’ horror sequel THE WOMAN IN BLACK: ANGEL OF DEATH. However, who’s inside is more terrifying in this creepy follow-up to the record-breaking smash starring Daniel Radcliffe. The film boasts an...

bit.ly/1wNBy4K