Wednesday, May 20, 2015


I am frequented by emotional outburst
that has been bound within,
scorching every nerve to a tingling halt.
Reflecting on every word and action
over and over.

I scramble for understanding,
of who I am and what I am capable of.
What actions should be taken,
what few should have been stopped before they started.
I listen to an old country song,
lost in thought I reflect on the difference
between the two.

I am the dictator of my own life,
but I have no esteem to see past my failures.
I am the controller of all things that may be,
but I have lost control of the simplest thing, me!
I am the only one who can understand myself
but the darkness has put up a shadow
that not even I can see past.

I sometimes find myself talking to the shadows on the walls,
they stand still listening to my every thought.
They never move in anticipation of leaving,
enthralled on everything that I have to say.
They have no where else to go, you see?
They stand watch at the human form
that is of them and me.

I am frequented by emotional outburst
that has been bound within,
scorching every nerve to a tingling halt.
Reflecting on every action
that has ever been made over and over again.

Everything is lined out
in a perfect understandable fashion.
Accomplishments are joyed upon,
forgetting of the tears that were shed along the way.
Once lost was found, once feared is fearless!
I can see the difference between the two,
there is no underlining of ink scrambling my mind.

I am the dictator of my own life,
I have the esteem to see past my failures.
I am the controller of all things that may be,
I know who I am, I know who I may one day be.
I am the only one who knows who hides beneath,
the picture is clear like the horizon on a brisk winters day.

There is only one shadow on the wall,
it sits and listens to me singing over that old country song.
In harmony we walk together
nothing holding us down from the outside world.
It has no where else to go, you see
but to try and keep up with me.

I am frequented by emotional outburst
that is bound within me.
My mind tells me what will be,
at times it can be more than a little confusing.

Friday, April 3, 2015


Staggering into a room, everything seemed so dark
I had not had a drink, I was intoxicated against my will, I think.
Eyes focused on a spinning picture
colors ran together as one in a brilliant form.
A rainbow eclipse hovered over me,
I was enlightened to what I was not supposed to see.

I heard a bird chirp in song
he had his mind made up I could hear.
His plan was simple and it had nothing to do with
his life of normality.
He knew he could take flight
his wings had taken him on many journeys.
He could fly away
as if there was nothing stopping him.

As the eclipse of  colors swirled
I thought of that freedom
to take flight when all was not well
or just when he became bored with the same thing.
I could not help but wonder how that felt
to take flight when things were not up to par
instead of sitting perched on a tree to dwell.

The more that I watched him
the more that I wanted to leave.
A place that only held friction and uncertainty
had me searching for something
that would not leave me reluctant
of facing obstacles that once were so easy to face.

The sky has darkened
the clouds are bountiful across the horizon.
I can smell the moister building up
the ache in my body has come to a boiling high.
The colors fade away
as the calm before the storm leaves me in peace
for what short time that may be.

Everything became so clear
I was thrown from being intoxicated
to a sobering feeling of reality.
There were wonders that was not so far away
there was beauty that most ignored to see.
Life gives us only what we reach for,
it gives no bounty to those who do not fight for more.

The eclipse melted away
as fast as it had appeared.
The colors found the way back into the sky,
a fading of darkness left the clouds bright
in a beautiful clear hue.

Some things are not meant to be understood
an outside look in was all that was needed
to reflect on what was important
and what was not taken as important.

Tuesday, March 31, 2015

All of me

I will not bargain for what I want
I will not take only part of what I deserve
I am free from needless nothings
I am worth everything that is something

I cannot take you by your stance
I can only except the actions that are shown
I cannot take the words that you say as truth
there have been to many words spoken
that were merely nothing more than lullaby fairy tales

I am a little bit complicated I have to admit
shoveling into my soul can be as hard as a miners job.
You only get what you earn
you can only see the sides of me that you work for.

I can give you the lust that you seek
I can give you sweet kisses along the crest of your heart
you only have one small thing to accomplish
take my heart in your palm and relish it for what it worth.

Nothing that matters can be bought
anything worth having takes understanding.
I can give you the core that my heart rest upon
I can give you the soul that hides behind my every nightmare
I can give you unconditional love and rapture
I can give you anything that you seek
as long as you can handle, all of me.


Two steps from the truth
a second glance into the aftermath of hell.
Beggars and pleaders beckon from their broken souls,
eagerness awaits them on the other side.
Careless thoughts hear the sound of the trumpets playing,
agony can find the heart in the shallow of its own darkness.

Pledging reluctantly against the dawn,
safety lays in the pillow in which they sleep.
Dreams become nightmares that are held dear,
remembering a time when all was unclear.
Tokens are not worthy of their cost,
some things are lost among the shadows on the walls.

What once was important
loses the glue that held it together.
What once was a hope,
turns into a dark and useless nothing.
Nothing is as it seems
when hidden behind the effort that only one soul bled.

The clock is ticking, as the time stands still.
The memory of accomplishments are faded,
as restlessness takes it place.
Tracks were walked that should have been ignored
time was wasted that could have been pushed forward.

You cannot change tomorrow with yesterdays mistakes,
you cannot walk the coals of earth
without the bothersome echo of a tormented soul.
Time has led us to where we belong,
the nightmares begin to fade, ever so slow.

When you find true love you have no reason to write of that, that does not exist...

Wednesday, February 18, 2015

Snow days

It started as one, 
a free day for the kids to play.
As the evening passed by it was obvious 
that another snow day was on its way.
With confidence we decided this will not be so bad,
we can sleep in without the ding of the alarm clock.
Then it happened, noise everywhere all through the night, 
there is not much sleeping in 
when the youngsters have your day already planned out.

Snow soaked carpet and wet clothes slung everywhere,
a bird on the loose has them running like a bunch of terrors.
Jumping, climbing, scaring the poor critter
he is left breathless regretting his last moment decision.
Now he is free and I am wishing for my own pair of wings.
Fly into a tree, run into a cave,
anything would be better than yet another snow day.

Then the phone rings
BOE is on the other line
the kids could tell by the look on my face
that they now have number four of snow days.
They jump up and down in their excitement
complete glee is written all over their little faces.

This week will be the death of me,
I am in search of rope and tape aplenty.

Friday, February 6, 2015



h. james was raised in Minneapolis, Minnesota. She is a consumer of pizza (lots and lots), watcher of bad TV, and a proud Vikings fan (maybe a little bit too proud). She prefers to spend her time losing herself on the internet for hours watching online videos, or spending a lazy Saturday afternoon with a good book. In 2013, she won the Carothers Distinguished Writers Award for her short story. One day, she hopes to create imaginary people for a living, but until then, she'll do it on her free time. The Girl in the White Mask is her first novel.

1. How long have you written? And what inspired you to write?

I've been writing for almost 14 years now. I've always loved reading, but the moment I began to show interest in writing was in fifth grade. It was my first year at a new school and I had yet to do anything to stand out amongst my classmates who'd all known each other for years. Sometime in the first month or so of the school year, my language arts teacher asked us each to write stories. I didn't think much of it until she returned mine to me later, telling the rest of the class how well I'd done. Before then, I was always the shy, quiet girl, but they quickly labeled me the writer of the class, despite the fact that there were much better writers there. When the other kids began to show interest in my writing, I fell in love with it. It would take me a few years to fall in love with it as a craft and not just as a way to get kids to like me.

2. Are you dedicated to only writing in one genre or do you have plans to write about anything else?

I'm definitely open to other genres.

3. How would you describe your novel?

4. What is your book signing plans if any?

I don't know if I have any at this point. I love the idea of being anonymous.

5. Other than writing is there anything else that you feel passionate about? If you only had one more day in your life what would you want to do? 

Oh, wow, I don't know. I really love watching TV. But I don't know if I want that to be the last thing I do. Maybe go to an amusement park? I love roller coasters. There's nothing more fun than the adrenaline rush that comes from a great ride and the energy that buzzes through you even hours after you've left the park. Some of my best memories have taken place at amusement parks. That wouldn't be a bad last day.

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