Fleeting

 Fleeting 

john clare stokes

sit with me

in ninety-nine degree

humidity

atop a drain field

the view is grand

sans the yard debris

from years of accumulation

growing each year

less dear

as the memory fades

and the lure of youth

no longer bides me stay

and play torture

content for the time

given to steaming situations

to wait out the fritillary

intent upon being elusive

invading his comfort zone

sit with me

in ninety-nine degree

memory

mounds of my making

views of neighbors yards

their accumulation

equally as dear

to them as mine

one content simply to

sip the tall neck

giving up on the belly swelling

surrounded by his goats and

chickens

not understanding his neighbor

who sits atop his drain field

wondering if the sun has 

not gotten to him

listening to the other neighbor

yelling at his granny

and in the distraction

comes the fritillary

and he misses his shot.

Scent of a rose

Scent of a rose

‘Sero te amavi, Pulchritudo tam antiqua et 

tam nova! Sero te amavi.’

S. Augustine

While awaiting the hummingbird, I took a double exposure of the rose. First focus on the rose, second focus on the background. The result to me made the rose look as if it had an aura of scent.

Bits

 Bits

john clare

lately I've  been thinking

of horses bits

and words that slip

and of reigns

and of telling the

horse to go and to

whoa! 

and how to the barn

the horse yearns

despite the pulling

upon the reins

and no matter what

you do

he is barn determined

so goes the tongue

as teeth gnaw and grind

 upon the bit

 trying to spit it out

to go our own way

in search of barn hay.

What shall we?

 What obscure

Thing shall we share

Today with the masses?

Things the masses

Have no knowledge of:

We would tell of sweet 

Things, how we strained

The juice to boil it down

To its essence,

Bottling it up still hot,

But I think not.

It would only remind

Of some old time

Who gives a damn 

That once the cane

We did grind?

Bob

 He wanted to read his bible

More than talk to me

I could tell he wasn't listening

Wasn't interested in me

Oh I babbled on a bit longer

But finally just shut up and

Apologized

Went my way 

So he could get back to his word

What a spiritual guy

He is.

There he sat with the far away hollow face

Offering little in the conversation

Wondering what was I doing in this place

I imagined him reeling back at my inspiration.

Align Dance

Align dance

In the year 2017

Of the month August

The day Monday

God said I shall give 

My heavenly bodies

A day to dance 

And so they aligned danced

The day away

While upon the terra firma 

We held our magic lens

To see some of the pirouetting 

Thinking dancing only occurs 

In darkened ballrooms

Others shunning it all

For surely God does not condone 

Dancing 

Oh those pesky people 

With the retinas of imagination 

And wonderment seared.

Scars Away

 Scars away

Johnclarestokes 

The twentieth was your birthday

Willie Mae

You would of been a hundred and seven

Willie Mae

But you only got sixty-six

Sadly

You held the little scalded boy

Willie Mae

Pulled that cord on the stove

Willie Mae

Full of boiling water he did

Sadly

Wrapped him in that gauze 

Willie Mae

Made them scars never go away

Willie Mae

Made that little boy shy

Willie Mae

Doctor said he wouldn’t use that arm

Sadly

What did Doctor Head know?

Willie Mae

The little boy became an artist

They say

Used the scalded left

Willie Mae

Doc Head drowned in Lake Ellen

Sadly

Inner tube fishing

They say

The little boys now sixty seven

Willie Mae

One more year than you lived

Willie Mae

It seems just like yesterday 

Willie Mae

He thanks you for keeping him

Gladly

He thinks of Sopchoppy days

Willie Mae

And those scars just fade away

Willie Mae Porter

20Aug1915

17Sept1981

Logo did go

 

Rock A Bye

 Rock a bye

john clare stokes

Before we have the time to learn

the lines to that little lullaby 

Before the high chair and toys are

stored in the shed

Before even the waking to the crying

is forgotten from the spindled bed,

"Rock a bye baby in the tree top"

Too soon  we are standing in

December winds

Lamenting the bough has broken

and over our precious ones we bend

then look sadly up that tree hushed

not a word spoken.

It was such a strong tree!

And wasn't it but a gentle breeze?

How could baby and cradle fall?

Who left baby alone after all?

Oh! Trust not the strength in trees

or even the gentle south breeze

They will deceive and send baby falling!

Listen long for all about in the wind

Seen in the squint of eyes

The broken lines of faces

Weary from sleepless nights.

Watch for the cradles ever swinging

dangerously out

Reach the hand to stave the 

winds pulling

Reach for the little ones in cradles of

trees falling

Out upon the rotting limbs

Swaying precious ones

in the winds.

Afterglow

 Afterglow

Even though home as we knew it was gone, the shell of the structure, like a cicada's,  moved to a park; in the lingering  gloam years hence , it continued to give off a warm glow, reflecting out past the trot, spilling over into the yard, revealing those who once dwelt beneath its sheltering.

John Shaw

 Influences

An early inspiration to me was the nature photographer John Shaw. His book on Nature Photography in the film era was as a Bible.

To get this one frame, I’d say several hours transpired. They say a hummingbird visits the same spot every fifteen minutes. Not this one. 

There is nothing more disconcerting to a photographer to have perfect light turn to shadow before the subject arrives.

First Marriage

 "Mr Roussey, it's your daughter Helen's hand I ask. You see, we sat beside one another all year long. We plan to live in Sopchoppy in the play house out back. John Lloyd is going to be our best man, and her sister Dawn the maid of honor. We plan on inviting our teacher Mrs Townsend. We learned so much from her in second grade. I've yet to break the news to Debbie McKenzie, maybe Daniel her brother  will break it to her gently. My daddy, the preacher at Sopchoppy and Crawfordville Methodist circuit we will ask to do the wedding ceremony. We hope Nena and Randy Anderson will sing. We have arranged for my Uncle Jimmy from Mississippi to pick Helen up in Panacea, drive her over to meet the family. He’s just of age to drive daddy’s DeSoto. I have an older sister Paula, she is best friends with Joan Sanders, Jackie Lawhorn and Henry McDonald. We have a dog named Bobo and my mom Clara teaches the fourth grade at Sopchoppy Elementary, so you see, I hope you agree with the plans we have made and by third grade we can marry in August when Jimmy and his brothers and sister comes for the summer. Sincerely, John Clare Stokes.