The Flickr Photographyandpoems Image Generatr

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

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

Passage of Her Song

A brush
~ gentle brush
To leave spun-silk these wiry curls,
braided ribbons and
other fancy things,
her hands wove round
a countenance ~ my own
reflected in the glass.
Her own ~ silver now flecked,
the porcelain handle etched mosaic
as the delicate fissures her face and mine.

In the shine
I see her soft and rhythmic stroke
perpetuum,
a movement I to she
whose composition blends and binds to me

Mother,
in my veins
you wrote a rhyme,
verses penned
in the rush of generations
~rush of red-letter days
and lonesome reserve of twilight kisses,
My lyrics sung
on the notes of toil and pride
pinched from time
and tears, honeyed and bittered

A hush
~ hush
To memorize our modulation
as we sing this final round of two,
this melody rising, each in separate measure,

to end upon
my single note,
sustained
and unwavering


jeanne rené 4/05 - 2/12

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

Rain drop - my yard Autumn 2011
*********

The Waltz of Elementary Particles

We dance to the reverberations of evolution,
waltzing on the echo of conception.
A pulse syncopated in measure,
chemistry and biology,
orchestrated by design and desire.

A dance of imagination,
celebration of a relentless genesis,
unperturbed, unfathomable,
unwritten in the precision of the micro
and faceless in the spectacle of the macro.

Deaf to the harmonies,
unconscious of choreography
we seek to define the indefinable,
divide the indivisible.
Hearing a cacophony
where plays only a symphony,
we struggle, out-of-step
in the midst of perfection and balance.

We move with purpose inherent,
set in motion by wisdom in concert,
elaborated upon by study and belief.
And so, we have danced
from out of the cosmos
between the bedrock and belly of the ocean.
Rising from the dust of the earth,
we look up once again to the heavens.

Let us embrace our unfolding with awe,
our sweep of the centuries, our time within time.
Let us bestow our augmentation with graceful notes,
leaving the Master, unfettered, to his pleasure,
leaving the rhythm, unhampered, to his will.

Copywrite jeannerene 4.2006

With No Shuttle, No Rocket Trail, and No HDR home here..........The Moon, Orion, Sirius rising...Canopus (which is as bright as Sirius) just out of picture to the right..there were a lot of very bright stars out last night...on a clear cold (for Florida) evening. I had this same shot 2 nights ago with the shuttle launch.it went right up through the moon from the lower right. Took wonderful pictures...went home to unload...and saw that I had left the Memory out of the Camera. Soooooooooo...just imagine there is a rocket trail with golden blue light going from the bottom right, through the moon to the top left corner..blazing away...isn't it beautiful.......this shot is a reminder of that historical blunder. Filled in moon (it 85% full and highlighted EXISTING STARS.)

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

Words (James Watkins)

There are words above all others-
that fix themselves like stars-
bright beacons in the darkness-
heights hidden in the heart.

They alone take awesome stand--
against the tides of life-
in armed array of power-
an army clothed in might.

Like seeds that fall on watered ground-
form fertile flowing fields-
grown gentle- guides in patience pruned
with perfect plural yields.

Established on foundations strong-
bold buildings built to last-
against the rule of raging time-
eternally recast.

Triumphant- time-transcendent-
translucent, touched and twirled-
the truth unbound and glorious-
runs rampant through the world.

To conquer mountain standing tall
across the pilgrimed path.
And bring to birth the vision small-
the unseen to our grasp.

And leaving doubt behind us-
chaff driven by the wind-
each enemy of hope and faith-
unchallenged to an end.

Now standing hard behind us-
there thronged by secret thralls-
authority and mercy meet-
beyond the cloistered walls.

To loose the power petrified,
by fear’s unyielding grip.
Torn from years of solitude-
this single silent trip.

Bought before on battleground-
beyond the mortal veil-
pursued by death- prevailing -
through ancient rights assailed.

Passed from grave to live again-
new formed the narrow path.
Within the reach of every man-
a gateway firm and fast.

Now brought to bear the tidings glad-
entrenched in solid ground-
in waking realms of glory-
a kingdom newly found.

Where promises now harvested,
join late and early rain-
appearing at the altar bold-
the circumstances plain.

To stand behind each spoken word-
against the darkened lie-
that proudly boasts against us-
before an open sky.

And crushing all resistance-
bring victories large and small-
to every realm of being-
delivered from the fall.

Extending out beyond ourselves
we yield to greater need-
To find that loss, in giving,
Makes every word-a seed.

JHWatkins 7-04

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

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

The Evening News (James Watkins) not hdr

Catalytic confrontations
Calculated crawl,
Embryonic isolations,
Future free-for-all.

Energetic exhortation,
Apoplexied brawl,
Catatonic saturation,
Isometric ball.

Egocentric salutation,
Fatalistic fall,
Megalithic mumbo jumbo,
Paganistic pall.

Pugilistic palpitation,
Excavated sprawl,
Perspiration aggravation,
Aspirated wall.

Ammunition malnutrition,
Superstition stall,
California concentrated,
Captivated thrall.

Bound and ground,
Then taken down,
By the very best-
With one more show
Worth watching,
And then we’re headed west.

Recreation generation,
By the book denomination,
Families filled with hesitation,
RVs racked for roaming.

Picking up the pieces,
Layed down on the land,
With wasted wealth and watersheds,
And regions raped by man.

Calibration castigations,
Asymmetric aberrations,
Guided tours with revelations,
Ratted out and ruined.

Catastrophic congregations,
Commutated castings,
Calvinistic computations,
Debonair and prancing.

Altruistic aspirations,
Stoned, bemoaned abbreviations,
Terrified with trepidations,
Gnomes long gone and gassed!

Honed and cloned then overthrown,
Granted one last wish-
Celebrated, then negated-
Dangling near the dish!

Partisan unprinciples,
In petrifying packs-
With news and views
And loop-de-loos,
And stab-‘em-in-the-backs.

Ready for the ruckus,
Sitting at the shrine,
Thought they really
Had the goods,
Now listen to the whine.

Thought they had it marketed,
Cornered and refined,
Around the town
The teaching wound,
Until they lost their mind.

Settling to the bottom,
They slid to lower ground,
Between the lines and valentines,
Some lost their Royal Crowns.

Terroristic tinkering,
Tumbling and tinkling,
Fundamental farkles,
Helpful and home grown.

Patriotic particles,
Hidden in the articles,
Compact and post partial,
Buried to the bone.

Vacuumed packed
And gunny-sacked,
Pre-segmented squalls,
Appalachian apparitions,
Headed to the malls.

Fevered and fantastic men,
Marching to the moon,
With masticating matriarchs,
In subcutaneous swoon.

Breasts blown up beautiful,
Complicated castings,
Fallen faces on the floor,
Mesmerized for masking.

Sacrificial sublimations,
Surrogates sublime,
Tetrahedral, analgesic,
Sentimental crimes.

Pawing, pungent prisoners,
Soothing, sexy swine-
Sows and cows and sinning sons,
Tasting tempting wines.

Navigation nuances,
Nuptials by Nair,
Feudalistic fragrances,
Held up with heavy hair.

Practical imbalances,
Factory unrepairs,
New wave cold and chemical friends,
Facts blown up with air.

Salivating swindlers,
Solo Simon says,
High-falutin prostitution,
Fixed up with the Feds.

Sports and courts and teasing torts,
Women going wild-
Dow Jones Average hemorrhage,
Help the homeless child.

Down the daunting highway,
Less than overnight,
Covering ground without a sound,
Filtered by first light.

Lazy lit up lethargy,
Loosed by lying lips,
Bought the farm in triplicate,
Then sailed a sinking ship.

Galvanizing garrisons,
Gathering at the line,
Pushed ahead though nearly dead,
They won it one more time.

Tested in the tumult,
On solid ground they stand,
Groping with the changer,
Positioned close at hand.

Nightly, brightly flickering,
Turn the clicker off-
Before you go,
Don’t miss the show,
An evening totally lost!

James Watkins (03-06)

not hdr...Sometimes its just a matter of looking up at the right time...Beautiful sunset over the Rockies in Glenwood Springs, Colorado...just outside our little motel by the Colorado River. We had been traveling in our commercial vehicle and had to stop here for the weekend to avoid chaining up on the mountain passes. Just so happens that they have a world famous hot springs/spa here...:}

The previous night, riding through the Rockies on I-70 with clear roads, snow pack everywhere, and a full moon shining on the snow...was just an unforgettable sight! Every turn in the bend brought the moonlight to a different scene with rivers, mountains, homes, and resorts lit up like fireflies in the mountains!

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


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

Some dilemmas, like some sports, are just better played out alone.

In Your by Sheree Zielke

Hold me.
Hold me in your mind.
Hold me in your heart.
Hold me in your words,
In the sound of your voice.
Hold me tight,
In the salty sweat of your brow,
In the heat of your anger,
In the acid of your angst.
Just hold me.

This work is copyrighted by Sheree Zielke 2010 and may not be copied in whole or in part without the expressed written consent of the author.

*******************************************************************
I had 5 reasons for posting this image today:

1) It is the anniversary of TheWalkinMan's Tree. If you don't know what I am talking about, click the link...I think you will enjoy what you find.

2) Creeping Ivy Publishing House just got the go-ahead to begin publishing titles.

3) Martha's Vine just got its formal ISBN credentials to become published.

4) I felt like writing an enigmatic poem.

5) It's not snowing.

At the bend in the Colorado River in front of the springs (to the left) at Glenwood Springs, Colorado. Only a few places left unfrozen in this fairly swift water coming down from the Rocky Mountains. The Railroad tracks and station on the right from the Denver train that comes through regularly...a nice way to come into the mountains. Canadian Geese and a number of duck species love to float around on this river. It is a wonderful place (in season) to raft, mountain climb, bike, motorcycle, golf, ski, snowboard, spa, eat or just relax. Close to many of the famous Colorado ski resorts...on the way from Denver to Grand Junction to Las Vegas and on to Los Angeles.

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.

As sun steps up to
start the daily song,
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-
fears run 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

Exactly What Do Colors Do?

Exactly what do colors do?
They give us knowledge,
This is true.
Would you eat a black apple
Or blue stew?
Not me, how about you?
Could you bathe in the light
Of a red sun?
Or see in the light of an orange
One?
You’d shrivel up
Like a raisin,
Not so much fun!
As a matter fact…
You would be done.

Exactly what do colors do?
They make things pretty…
At least…seem to.
They make things different
They make things fun…
Though sometimes
They make things
Ugly my son…
They tell us distances,
Just look at the stars,
They give meaning,
To things in jars-
Just look at the different
Colors of cars.

But in the end,
What they do,
Is make life better,
And easier…
I’m through!!!!!!

James Watkins 01-12-2010


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

not hdr...For some reason, this reminds me of the Hot Springs in the mountains of Japan where all the monkeys congregate...I'm just sayin!!

The world famous hot springs/spa at night. This is where Doc Holiday spent his last months...buried nearby. The pools (one very hot...one warm) are fed by the springs nearby and are full of all type of wonderful healthy minerals they say...I just liked the hot water. The temperature at night here was 15 degrees F...so, you didn't stand around the pool long without hopping back in...

The village lights and surrounding area are stunning at night and quaint during the daylight hours...Found a Chinese/Japanese restaurant having a "recession special" with 50% off of all menu items...we took advantage!

The Evening News (James Watkins)

Catalytic confrontations
Calculated crawl,
Embryonic isolations,
Future free-for-all.

Energetic exhortation,
Apoplexied brawl,
Catatonic saturation,
Isometric ball.

Egocentric salutation,
Fatalistic fall,
Megalithic mumbo jumbo,
Paganistic pall.

Pugilistic palpitation,
Excavated sprawl,
Perspiration aggravation,
Aspirated wall.

Ammunition malnutrition,
Superstition stall,
California concentrated,
Captivated thrall.

Bound and ground,
Then taken down,
By the very best-
With one more show
Worth watching,
And then we’re headed west.

Recreation generation,
By the book denomination,
Families filled with hesitation,
RVs racked for roaming.

Picking up the pieces,
Layed down on the land,
With wasted wealth and watersheds,
And regions raped by man.

Calibration castigations,
Asymmetric aberrations,
Guided tours with revelations,
Ratted out and ruined.

Catastrophic congregations,
Commutated castings,
Calvinistic computations,
Debonair and prancing.

Altruistic aspirations,
Stoned, bemoaned abbreviations,
Terrified with trepidations,
Gnomes long gone and gassed!

Honed and cloned then overthrown,
Granted one last wish-
Celebrated, then negated-
Dangling near the dish!

Partisan unprinciples,
In petrifying packs-
With news and views
And loop-de-loos,
And stab-‘em-in-the-backs.

Ready for the ruckus,
Sitting at the shrine,
Thought they really
Had the goods,
Now listen to the whine.

Thought they had it marketed,
Cornered and refined,
Around the town
The teaching wound,
Until they lost their mind.

Settling to the bottom,
They slid to lower ground,
Between the lines and valentines,
Some lost their Royal Crowns.

Terroristic tinkering,
Tumbling and tinkling,
Fundamental farkles,
Helpful and home grown.

Patriotic particles,
Hidden in the articles,
Compact and post partial,
Buried to the bone.

Vacuumed packed
And gunny-sacked,
Pre-segmented squalls,
Appalachian apparitions,
Headed to the malls.

Fevered and fantastic men,
Marching to the moon,
With masticating matriarchs,
In subcutaneous swoon.

Breasts blown up beautiful,
Complicated castings,
Fallen faces on the floor,
Mesmerized for masking.

Sacrificial sublimations,
Surrogates sublime,
Tetrahedral, analgesic,
Sentimental crimes.

Pawing, pungent prisoners,
Soothing, sexy swine-
Sows and cows and sinning sons,
Tasting tempting wines.

Navigation nuances,
Nuptials by Nair,
Feudalistic fragrances,
Held up with heavy hair.

Practical imbalances,
Factory unrepairs,
New wave cold and chemical friends,
Facts blown up with air.

Salivating swindlers,
Solo Simon says,
High-falutin prostitution,
Fixed up with the Feds.

Sports and courts and teasing torts,
Women going wild-
Dow Jones Average hemorrhage,
Help the homeless child.

Down the daunting highway,
Less than overnight,
Covering ground without a sound,
Filtered by first light.

Lazy lit up lethargy,
Loosed by lying lips,
Bought the farm in triplicate,
Then sailed a sinking ship.

Galvanizing garrisons,
Gathering at the line,
Pushed ahead though nearly dead,
They won it one more time.

Tested in the tumult,
On solid ground they stand,
Groping with the changer,
Positioned close at hand.

Nightly, brightly flickering,
Turn the clicker off-
Before you go,
Don’t miss the show,
An evening totally lost!

James Watkins (03-06)

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

These gulls like to live dangerously. They are 100 yards from going over Niagara Falls, but feel perfectly safe here in the rocks and rushing water. For sure no one is going to bother them, and they look quite peaceful and happy. Some seem to be observing the beautiful fall leaves while others just listen to the water RUSHING by them. It is the fastest moving water I have ever seen in person, but it looks like it is feathering the photograph in honor of the gulls.

A poem of myself (So far) (James Watkins) NOT HDR

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

Not HDR...beautiful summer flowers at the motel where we stayed in Michigan...a summer day that was in the high 70s with low humidity...glorious...Sometimes beauty is right at our feet...and we trip over it

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

My first chance back to Niagra Falls this year..I am always amazed and overwhelmed by its power and beauty! This is the true color of the river there for those that haven't been...Just a very dramatic place for those who have eyes to see. The natives seen here seem to like it, too.

A poem of myself (So far) (James Watkins) NOT HDR

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

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

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...

not hdr...beautiful mountains near Palisades, Colorado and close to Grand Junction.

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