The Flickr Photographsandpoetry Image Generatr

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This page simply reformats the Flickr public Atom feed for purposes of finding inspiration through random exploration. These images are not being copied or stored in any way by this website, nor are any links to them or any metadata about them. All images are © their owners unless otherwise specified.

This site is a busybee project and is supported by the generosity of viewers like you.

Ice Trees in Pennyrile Forest by JamesWatkins

© JamesWatkins, all rights reserved.

Ice Trees in Pennyrile Forest

Better Large-Driving through Kentucky we were mezmerized with the beautiful ice patterns in the trees. Some looked like diamonds in the sun, while others were organized legions of light in the branches. Between the sun reflecting off of the frozen fields and the ice trees, we were observerers in the right place at the right time once again. 0006-1012

FOR THOSE INTERESTED I HAVE AN EXHIBITION AT THIS LINK www.flickr.com/groups/inspiringcollection/discuss/7215762...

DOORWAYS (JHWatkins)

Our lives are spent near doorways,
Corridors between heaven and earth-
Mechanisms of the spirit-
Power grids with junctions-
On the borders of decisions-
And destiny generations.

Many have sensed them,
Watched and known
Channels of change,
Releasing forces,
That seasons have sown
Since the beginning-
Leaving footsteps to follow.

Some found them
Under redwood cathedrals,
Soft canopy mists,
Where winter rains washed
The soul survivors,
That could not have grown
Until they had gone
To sing in arenas of angels.

Others surprised the morning,
Resisting by rolling waters,
Speaking to dawn stars,
Bidding the night adieu-
Where the quiet
Was louder than the roaring future,
And, left with one clean choice,
Lit a fuse
That started a fire-
And changed the world.

James Watkins

The Falls and Lights BW by JamesWatkins

© JamesWatkins, all rights reserved.

The Falls and Lights BW

Better Large-Niagara Falls is an American spectacle and historical treasure seen well at night under revolving colored lights. Its detail and contrast at night make it a prime candidate for monotone. The spray is hypnotical and mystical. This is the American Falls...you can see the Canadian Falls in the upper right corner...just as beautiful! 0018

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

A poem of myself (So far) (James watkins)

I was shot from a gun,
chased by time
past pig, pain portals-
beyond blood battered walls,
whetted, washed, and wondering.

My stars burning,
growing in love’s lucid light,
nursed and nutured in stone-
flooded and flowering
in bare…
bright dreams.

Childhood
floated down driveways,
fell sweet from scented,
hidden lookout trees-
bicycles for breakfast-
mothers, brothers,
and families for free.

Secured by father,
knee deep in friends,
i ran -hair on fire-
blazed in brightness-
weekend wild-
bludgeoned by desires-
and tendered by traps
and crimes.

In storms i slew myself-
jumped solid ship into timeless sea,
filled the ancient heart longing,
healed the word wounded warrior
of the soul.

Made peace with time,
sucked fullness of day and night,
walked in smoldering suns,
swam clear deep streams-
and sang the song of songs!

Torched by bridges,
burning face first
into new dawn,
came full round the sun circle-
armed with nuclear wings-
violently flighted,
fast falling forward-
to fathom beginning and ending
of all things.

And ride the flood waters
of opening plains-
with multiplied words
of tortured kings-
resting, completed, tempered, and full-
in fallen disguise of my destiny.

James watkins 4-2007

Sun and Ice Pennyrile Forest by JamesWatkins

© JamesWatkins, all rights reserved.

Sun and Ice Pennyrile Forest

Better Large- Pennyrile Forest runs from the Lakes of Kentucky, southwest to northeast heading across the state to Indiana.Traveling this road many times we would never expect the winter beauty we witnessed with the diamond trees and reflective ocean of frozen snow on the open fields. It would've taken days to stop and photograph the varieties of wonder. 0008

FOR THOSE INTERESTED I HAVE AN EXHIBITION AT THIS LINK www.flickr.com/groups/inspiringcollection/discuss/7215762...

Remember This (James Watkins)

Remember this-
cold December's morning-
(beauty- without warming-)
cold reflective stream.

Remember this-
violent red waiting,
day-glow by the window,
silent-
evergreen.

The sun steps up to
start its daily song,
As quietness inside says,
take one step-
alone.

Build your golden dreams-
on visions,
tarried long-
wronged by waiting hours-
long-lived, doubt delayed.
Join the journey homeward,
turn back to yesterday.

Take one step- face tomorrow-
look it in the eye-
take it on.
Forever waits at daybreak,
shines suddenly like the dawn.

Memories rise from roads never taken.
Faces from forgotten pasts,
dare to dream the dream
and not be shaken,
dare to touch the fire at last.

Heart speaks to heart,
spirit to spirit,
stand strong faced
to meet the day-
we will walk,
in paths less taken-
secret signs
to guide the way.

Hope hung highways,
misted mountains-
running dry,
bereft of snow.
We will fly
in unknown places,
we will burn
and not grow cold.

Golden sunrise,
brazen morning,
dancing darkness,
falling free-
singing high
with hidden voices-
waking worlds
where shadows flee.

Lengthening light,
long remember,
one who comes
will rule by day!
Come fallen fliers-
torn asunder-
come and rest,
from restless waves.

Sleep your peaceful sleep
you souls arrested,
bright blue morning-
birds ablaze-
strike out new,
to touch the heavens-
stand strong now,
you heavy hearts-
amazed.

James Watkins 03-04

Arches and La Sal Mountains Sundown by JamesWatkins

© JamesWatkins, all rights reserved.

Arches and La Sal Mountains Sundown

Better Viewed Large. This is an update of an older shot of Arches that I wanted to update with a new post processing technique. I felt that it enhanced the original. This is a shot I took while racing out of the park at closing. We stopped just long enough to take a longer exposure and was able to draw the picture out of the RAW.
The La Sal Mountains.


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


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-
this 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

Moose Lake In Canadian Rockies by JamesWatkins

© JamesWatkins, all rights reserved.

Moose Lake In Canadian Rockies

Better Large-Between Jasper, Alberta and Mount Robson (the highest peak in the Canadian Rockies) we were driving by this beautiful, crystal clear lake and had to stop and shoot. The water is green because of the minerals (especially sulfur-it stinks) that runs off of the adjoining mountain when it rains and snows. This rendition is really close to what we actually saw as evidenced by the color of the evergreen (spruce?cedar?) trees. They are the correct color, as is the sky...so that gives you a good reference point.

Also note that the rocks in the foreground...the whole foreground for that matter...is UNDERWATER...about 4 feet under, thus a little fuzzy. The water was so clear when still that you could see right through it! Nearby Mt Robson was beautiful as we approached it with a summer snow covered peak, but by the time the camera was mounted/set up the whole peak was under a canopy of clouds...so no good shots there.

The Canadian Rockies are very unique...not at all like like the Rockies down in Colorado, which are more massive. These mountains remind me of pictures of the European mountains like the Alps or Pyrenees. There are some similar peaks in the Rockies/Cascades/Coastal Range transitions approaching Seattle and around Coeur D'Alene, Idaho. They smell like a cedar closet, but remind me of being in a Spearmint Land from childhood somewhere. Anyway, they are unique and just as beautiful as the US Rockies. The drive down from Jasper, Alberta through British Columbia to Seattle is amazing! I will get back here...hopefully soon!
FOR THOSE INTERESTED I HAVE AN EXHIBITION AT THIS LINK <a href=" www.flickr.com/groups/inspiringcollection/discuss/7215762... .



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 steams-
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-
this 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

Arches Moonrise Fantasy by JamesWatkins

© JamesWatkins, all rights reserved.

Arches Moonrise Fantasy

Better Viewed Large. Trying out some more new combinations in post processing with new software. Arches National Park is a beautiful national treasure. There is so much to shoot that it is hard to focus on any one thing, but for me...the colors really start to come out in low light.

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


The Desert Has a Voice (JHWatkins) not hdr

The desert has a voice that calls
In dry, dirt dreams-
Warm, wind-washed wonders
In wingless, soulless flight.

Cold, moonlit masquerades
Through long level years,
Crying out with countless cares on deafened ears-
Drowned in measured, motor-muffled madness,
And child-chattered, purposeless flight.

Quietly, calmly calling-
Darkened, deepening desert-
Star-filled with stumbling stalkers
And wounded warriors in fevered nights.

Dreams-peaceful, persistent, dreams-
As wheeled sky turns
Eternal turning, evening eyes-
And thoughts of morning colored light.

Millennial seas-
Doomed and dusty years-
Row upon heaping row of years-
Tears-
Caked, covered
And desolate.

The desert has a voice-
That calls and halts
And peers with perfect perspective-
Stopping us in our way.

“I have seen blood-stained battles!
I have seen despot desires!
I have seen prophets come and go,
And ages pass with shallow…glancing blows!
I have seen civilizations crumble…
Tumbling, heavy-handed
Into pagan pasts!”

The desert has a voice-
And every grain of sand has a name-
Every wind-blown grain of sand.
And someone-somewhere-knows the names.

They have perfect place and purpose-
Rocks cry out! Rocks….sing!
Some soaring angelic scribe somewhere
Records the history of rocks, and sands, and deserts.

Drab, dull, drifting desert distances and plans.
Ragged, jagged, craggy-edged
Mountain spine explosions and
Dry, desert sand.

The desert has voice and future-
With lifted hill-high green valley-
And clear bright stream winding
To cool, crystalline sea.

They wait….silently…
Almost… forever waiting-
But I know the secret of deserts-
And –
Dreams.

James Watkins-April 2006

Purple Fountain Grass and Sunset Wind by JamesWatkins

© JamesWatkins, all rights reserved.

Purple Fountain Grass and Sunset Wind

not an hdr...purple fountain grass in the wind...in a West Palm Beach, Florida breeze...really fascinating exotic grass for borders or just to look at awhile. Especially beautiful at sunset in the wind.

What Good Are Trees (J.H. Watkins)

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,
That reflected 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,
Where wild woods bear the broken breath of winds,
That hang 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

FOR THOSE INTERESTED I HAVE AN EXHIBITION AT THIS LINK www.flickr.com/groups/inspiringcollection/discuss/7215762...

Purple Fountain Grass In Wind by JamesWatkins

© JamesWatkins, all rights reserved.

Purple Fountain Grass In Wind

Not Hdr-In West Palm Beach these grasses are being used for landscaping. In the wind they really come to life.

Every Season Has Its Own Glory (JHWatkins)

Every season has its own glory,
Every purpose has its own time,
Every moment has its own story,
Every story has its own line.

I have walked deep into cities,
Shining brightly never to fail,
Listened to heart cries,
Lost in the morning,
Standing on corners
Stagnant and stale.

Where is the hope
That brought forth the laughter?
Where is the song?
The music unveiled?
Why are the choices so
Wasted and bitter?
Gathered in hatred,
Broken and pale.

I have seen (new) stars on the mountains,
Fed on the movement of heaven and earth-
Fired by the framework
Of perfect perspective,
Fueled by the turning of terrible truth.

Come now and sing of mists in the forest,
Sensual sonnets of songs in the dirt-
Come and behold the delicate balance
Of seasons and reasons and rhythms
And birth.

There are the voices lost in confusion,
Crushed in the thriving, deepening swale-
Calloused and cold the circling convenience,
Crippled commotion emotions prevail.

Beacons in quiet of last true performance,
Heralded nature in singular cause-
Perfect and pure
Though wasted and slandered.
Washed by confession
In smoldering awe.

Severed connections, squandered projections-
Revered reflections by stammering tongues-
Coined by controlling contriving convections,
In different directions now written in stone.

Now is the time to look to the heavens,
Now is the moment to take up the cause,
Now is the voice of blazing amazement,
Borne on the winds of the gathering storm.

Listen to stream, listen to forest,
Listen to flower, and staggering fawn-
Listen to voices rolling like thunder,
Come drink of the waters
And dance with the dawn.

Wrapped in the garments of natural beauty,
Facing the force of the burgeoning call-
Strong in the seasons of life and creation,
Firm on foundations that never will fall.

James Watkins 09-01-08

FOR THOSE INTERESTED I HAVE AN EXHIBITION AT THIS LINK www.flickr.com/groups/inspiringcollection/discuss/7215762...

Clover Field in Georgia by JamesWatkins

© JamesWatkins, all rights reserved.

Clover Field in Georgia

Best Viewed Large...Clover in full array in a field next to my in-laws home in Georgia...

A Flower Grew (Poem for Rachel) (by James Watkins)

In deepest realms of glory,
a flower grew and danced
in morning bright-
and dreamed a dream
of golden choices,
of clouds,
and evening flight-

It sang a song with setting sun
that whispered with the wind-
and bloomed in heavens guardian light-
complete and warm within-

To run and play by stardust stream,
beyond the silent dawning,
and bless anew angelic hosts,
above celestial awning.

In father’s heart awoke a flame
aware at its beginning-
the smallest seed of love renewed,
prepared for time unending.

This heavy blow against the realm
of cruelty and darkness,
was sparked by hope
against the storm,
to flourish in its softness.

To topple kings and steadfast things
amazed at hidden wisdom-
that struck the plan, that
moved the hand,
that broke the holy prison.

Revealed in grace and wonder,
to live and dance and sing,
a perfect image of the light,
proceeding from the king.

Empowered by his mercy,
the father spoke the name-
and Rachel came into the earth,
to flower once again.

James watkins 4-2007

Donna In Redwood by JamesWatkins

© JamesWatkins, all rights reserved.

Donna In Redwood

Must keep up to date files and pictures of the wifey. We are co-drivers and co-owner/operators with Fed Ex Custom Critical...and drive all over the US and Canada delivering overnight freight... taking pictures...eating Vietnamese food...and playing golf...with our trusty companion Gracie the German Pomeranian (father was a German Shepherd/mother was a Pomeranian...it was a bad mixed relationship) We live in beautiful St Augustine, Florida on purpose...but we love the West and West Coast.

We often say that the northern California Redwood area is the most beautiful place in the US...there are many...but there is so much to offer in this area with climate, natural beauty, oceans, mountains, rivers...very moderate temperature year round, but can get over 100 degrees within 50 miles of here in the summer...and have 4 or 5 feet of snow within 100 miles of here in the winter.

In this picture, Donna is trying to rip down one of the trees to take home and use in the front yard...of course the tree is larger than our house...so that could be a small problem. The tree here is in HDR...the wife is not...and for good reason! Actually, she loves to take home anything redwood for gifts, etc...they smell good...honestly though, we love to walk through the redwood groves together...its like being in a huge church or something...and they really make you feel at home. Donna has always reminded me of an elven princess and her colors really fit in here with this beautiful wood.


diamond daggered daughter (James watkins)

Diamond daggered daughter-
radiance so rare-
soft as starlight,
hard as heaven,
strength beyond compare.

Constant as the morning-
dazzling as the day-
golden nights and moonlit flights-
in lasting love‘s foray.

Autumn colored princess,
fallish fawning fair-
rooted deep---through winter's sleep-
she waits without a care.

Go gently in her presence-
you gilding gown of day-
for joy is in her armament,
and life in her array.

Bold bolstering hands
by helpful heart,
contend on buttress bare...
Full-forced she stands
against all fear-
her armory prepared.

Against the challenge of her time-
far from frenzied fray-
of mystery and darkened mind-
that hunts the periled prey.

The soul of man
can not withstand,
her onslaught soon released-
of warmth and laughter
waxing wild
with primal passioned peace.

So run your race with confidence-
and stand before your king-
your storehouse full and prospering-
your children clothed and clean.

Your husband known by men of war-
your journey now complete-
prepared to stand at God's right hand-
with crowns before his feet.

James watkins





FOR THOSE INTERESTED I HAVE AN EXHIBITION AT THIS LINK www.flickr.com/groups/inspiringcollection/discuss/7215762...