Biography of james watkin
Began writing poesy aged 20. Discovered Emily Dickinson 6 years later. A shy soulmate. And along with Mary Coleridge and Sara Teasdale my dearest friends in time. 'A strange thought, simply wrought'. My personal axion.
- A Kinship With The Most Timid -new-
- Thoughts Most Inclined After -new-
- Dotty Ladybirds -new-
- Bonfire -new-
- Carol-Singers -new-
- As A Mountain Of Trees -new-
- Living's Outcast Notion -new-
- Retrospection -new-
- A Hell On Earth -new-
- Lovers, Close And Warm. -new-
- Self Gazing -new-
- Heaven's -new-
- Softly The Rain... -new-
- Bridegroom's "I'll Be True" -new-
james watkin Poems
A Life Is Not Lived Once
A life is not lived once But many times over In the memory. Perusal of which read
Her Little Performance
That Gaze, Once Turned
That gaze, once turned Smiles upon me forever. Those eyes, once burned As the stars never go out.
Rain's Eloquent Sorrow, Unheard When
Rain's eloquent sorrow, unheard when Youth's surge was proceeding More impressionably wrung out of A subsequent heeding!
Walk Me Through...
Walk me through these feelings. These your private grounds hurtful-stepping, moaned through. Engulfed darkly too.
A balcony for a house! Unto freshenings, sea-voiced Itself an open window. A sensory experience!
In anticipation, what has been Reached out for to savour Morning-slow, in a summer's day Of an orange colour
The Book Of Miracles
Lifted from the book of Miracles Set beside, what's blushed awake For those wood out of snow images A coherent picture make
Throwing up near distance Of neighbourhood, the limit For the degree of our Dislike of it!
Emily, Dead Poet Recluse
O so late who unto this lily To admire, would stand as close. Bashful drooped, who could not, if now Step up too soft anyhow!
The Women Of Fashion
Inch by inch we uncovered them. Abbreviating year by year Mode up from ankles summer-sloshed; Eve's rhythm-swirling gear.
That Joy, Or What's Made Visible
That joy, or what's made visible Of a feeling's lightness Is that in grass's quick pulsing. Impacted air's brightness.
Behind Each Charge Of Valour
Behind each charge of valour Undeflected off Death's stare Spirit is confessed. A shield Held up of self-luminous, scorching ware.
A pleasanter air he had about him A rosier outlook The Past. Like he was always a triumph coming off; A cherry-topped repast.
A National Park
With God's white-gloved treatment were
Its artefacts layed out.
Fog-thick, He bent down through
Its museum's domed clue
For whom, erect, now do
Tread dumbfoundered about.
Even winds of their peurile
and rattling commotion