james watkin

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.
New Poems
- 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
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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
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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. -
Cliff-Top Living
A balcony for a house! Unto freshenings, sea-voiced Itself an open window. A sensory experience! -
Sun's Light
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 -
Noise -new-
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. -
The Past
A pleasanter air he had about him A rosier outlook The Past. Like he was always a triumph coming off; A cherry-topped repast.
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Classic Poets
- Footsteps of Angels
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
- A Song About Myself
John Keats
- A Very Short Song
Dorothy Parker
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