MSJames

inking loosely

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I missed it...

I missed it. All the minutes, ganged up on me in ambush, crushing me in an instant. Slipping by, In plain sight and in darkness, they mounted their assault, with a relentless, compassionless determination. And I missed it. Sure, I saw the hours pass by like cars in traffic. I saw the days, flow through light and dark. And yes, the months, that came and went with the seasons. But I missed the minutes, the magical moments that held the keys of true happiness, the gift of God we often overlook, until they’re gone. I missed it, but not as much as I miss her.

All

395 deviations

Literature

I missed it...

Featured

143 deviations

Photography

75 deviations

Literature

Senryu - 12-29-08

` to my lips, wine from my pen, piss `

Haiku

112 deviations

Literature

Seven letter word

Seven letter word Liberty: A concept that was popular back in the day. A term that meant that a Man (and by that, I mean every man and woman alive and of a reasonable age) could determine how and what they wanted to do, as long as they didn’t impede on someone else’s liberty. But what does that mean today? The way I see it, it mean that you have a right to choose: your cable channel, your wireless provider, your car/house (within your means of course), your insurance (again within your means), your… well, you get the picture. But ideally, it should mean that you could be a gun-toting, fundamentalist, faggot, nigger, or you

Open Poetry

116 deviations

Literature

Tanka - 04.24.08

` a firefly trapped inside a jar blinks brightly through wet eyes, a forced smile and my lover turns to leave `

Tanka

29 deviations

Visual Poetry

12 deviations

Literature

Haibun - 7

* The crack of thunder wakes me from my sleep, from my dreams of sakura, from my dreams of you. As I lie there awake, slipping into the sorrow of my loneliness, the sound slowly rolls away, its existence realized. I hear the pelting frustration of rain. I see the release of pent up lightning anger. I hear the grumbling thunder indignation, as the pompous storm waltzes by. Why did it feel the need to wake me, to wake the world? I wonder if it was lonely, or maybe just mean and spiteful and jealous of our sleep, our dreams. I will never know, for it left as quickly as it came, not caring for my questions or my answers. Why should it care anyw

Haibun

7 deviations

Misc

9 deviations

Literature

Choka - 1

^ the sun and sky bright and blue as your eyes when it rains I think of your lonely tears as the day ends visions begin to fade permeating the world around me becoming my everything ^

Choka

2 deviations

Macro

10 deviations

Scraps

44 deviations

Haibun - 7 by MSJames, literature

Literature

Haibun - 7

Haibun - 6 by MSJames, literature

Literature

Haibun - 6

* I sit in the solitude of the moment, waiting for her to come use me, like She always does. My plastic companions are of no solace to me, for they have their own fears to live. As I wait for the inevitable, I often wonder what horrendous deed I had committed to damn me to such a slow, brutal death as this. To be handled so roughly, to be so degraded by having to lick Her clean. The experience always leaving me feeling a bit thinner. In an instant, the room explodes in light, momentarily disorienting me. She has come. I hear the sound of movement and see her silhouette. The faint sound of water announces a ritual she often performs. May

Haibun - 5 by MSJames, literature

Literature

Haibun - 5

* It's been raining all day today. It wasn't supposed too, it was supposed to snow, but I guess it was just not meant to be. It sort of reminds me of life, you expect and anticipate one thing, but you usually end up with having to settle for something much less desirable. However, unlike the weather, you can attempt to alter the forecast of your life, if you're willing to try. My neighbor, a red-tailed hawk, sits atop an old power pole as he searches for his next meal, while I watch from inside my warm dry house. He doesn't seem to mind the rain and even though I can't see him that well, I'm sure the water is rolling off his feathers, while

Haibun - 4 by MSJames, literature

Literature

Haibun - 4

* Just another winter day, without any more meaning than any other day, so comes February 14th. Someone, a long time ago thought it would be nice to have a day to celebrate love and they even found some obscure Saint to give credence to the whole thing. With flowers, candy, word or song, gratitude and thankfulness abound this day, like no other. Lovers exchanging tokens in hopes that they will show their companions how much they care for them, but are they really conveying that or is it all just a shadow of what they do not know they have? People are funny creatures, if you give them a reason to forget about something, they probably will!

Haibun - 3 by MSJames, literature

Literature

Haibun - 3

~ I remember a lady who lives in the southern Appalachian Mountains; we simply call her, Beetle. She is a tough, self-sufficient woman that, underneath her leathery exterior, has a heart of gold, she is also my friend. She lives in a two-story farmhouse that sits at the base of a hillock, over looking fertile fields that grow tobacco. Much like its owner, the house looks weather worn, but the solitude it offers, is a treasure unmatched. In the drive that leads to her house, a Chestnut tree stands, leaning out to greet you. Are the Chestnuts so valuable, that nature needs to protect them so? When I was young, I hated the Chestnut we had, it

A letter home by MSJames, literature

Literature

A letter home

* Alone atop a mountain I sit, looking down upon the deep rich vale. A hawk's cry pierces the air as he bends the currents to his will. Slowly the sound fades and like most things in life, it's consumed by the vastness of everything. Below, much like time has suddenly stopped, nothing moves. Splotches of yellows and reds are apparent even from here, a reminder of what is and what is not and of where I long to be. Day fades into dusk into twilight into night and still I sit, gazing down toward what could be my home. The hawk has long since gone, but the moon has joined me and by its light I can see the cooking smoke rising lazily as the win

Haibun - 1 by MSJames, literature

Literature

Haibun - 1

~ Once, on a trip to the Appalachian Mountains, I had the occasion to sit alone on the banks of the Tuckaseegee River. In the midst of lush green hills, the river cut a lazy path down the mountain, but to where, I still do not know. For many hours I sat in silent conversation with the excited waters as they rushed onward to their destination. After a while, thinking to chase me away, the river decided to tell me its secrets. In a tumble of phrases that overlapped like currents, I could hear it saying softly, Keep moving forward, never going back and You can never pass over the same stone twice and Stagnation leads to death, keep flowing and