A shy cow

 

As trees

 As trees 

John Clare Stokes

You get to the age

When you think

By now I should 

See clearly

But the vision is

Still cloudy

Men as trees walking

Not discerning

An arm from a branch

A leg from a root

And the voice you hear

Is it of man or is it

Of fowl

I take to the limbs

Carefully

Saw in hand

I begin cutting

Not knowing from

Whence comes

The screaming.

Is it sap

Or is it blood?

Missing men formation

 Missing Men formation

I am not certain which is worse

The missing of the living

Knowing they are somewhere out there

If they too are longing for you

If ever the Holy Spirit will break through

Or the missing of the gone

Knowing they are safe with the Lord

And that we shall soon enough be home

Yes, it's the missing of the living

Praying that before eternity they 

Make it home.

Today, Oct 16, my father would have been a hundred. He went home in March of 2011. It's been since 2012 that we have heard any word from our first son Landon in the Air Force.

Jordon

 And on this day, my fathers birthday, our second son, Jordon Curtis, was baptized at Grace Life Church by pastor Russell Taylor in 2011.

The sun shown bright

 Oh the sun shown bright

One highlight of Kentucky are the amazing horse farms with the chestnut thoroughbreds worth millions. The Shakers, into utility, used draft horses, just as beautiful to me.

Gadarene

 Gadarene

Sometime I see myself as the crazed

Gadarene

Living chained among the tombs

Striking great fear

In all who would venture near

Other times the one in his

Right mind

Sitting quietly at the Masters feet

Striking great fear

In all who would venture near.

Bleach blonde

 Bleach bond

john clare

The bleach and the vinegar were a volatile mixture

The fumes finding their way into the bedroom

To satin sheets to settle upon

The wrapped mints on the pillows melting

The roses on the bedside table wilting

The deadly fumes inhaled  slowly

She tried desperately to hold her breath

But she was soon drowning

Sinking deeply into dreams

Of when it was not such 

Drudgery, the laying, the bleaching, ironing, washing, scrubbing, living, loving, breathing

Along beside her once lover in unison

This stranger who once showered her with 

Roses, wild flowers, candy, mints, poetry, living.

They found her turned a beautiful shade of jade 

The bleach and vinegar they said leeched her color

Leaving her but a shell 

Like a porcelain glass statue

Going up until the end

Through the motions, moving 

in unison with the strangers

rising and falling breaths

Beside her.

The burning out

The burning out

We do not know

What came first

If it was the leaving

Then the burning

Or the burning

Then the leaving

Only the chimney remains

The memory up in flames.

The lone chimney

Near Luraville 

Nothing evokes sadness 

And melancholy more

Than a lone chimney

In a field or beside a lane

Or under a spreading tree

The speculation 

Of who warmed by the hearth

And what came of them

If they had to flee

A late night burning

Or if they just up and

Abandoned 

The embers smoldering.

Grapes

 John my neighbor came over and he put supports on the grapes making the poles not pull inward and tightened the lines. 

I took that

 Yes, Johnny is notorious for only posting my photos but never the words. I think since he is a writer he is loathe to recognize another? This time he didn’t even attribute my name to the photo. 

October Bluefild Sky

October Bluefield Sky

John Clare Stokes 

When a little boy in a Florida fall

Mamma would gather my sister 

and we’d go down to the Y in

the Sopchoppy 319 road, 

my little blue suitcase

packed for a stay or two

to board the Greyhound bound

for Bluefield, West Virginia 

to see Monnie and granddaddy 

Richard 

the retired Crumpler to Northfork

bus driver 

to see chain smoking and gin 

Sipping Andy Ford salesman

in the new Mustang 

Uncle Kermit

Who drove mamma

In fifty five in the January snow

To deliver me

and to see his brother Don

up on that steep Castlewood

drive with the cool Army gear

which cousin David and I

would play

While Paula and Donna Lynn

thought of ways

to escape Aunt Mabel’s fussing

over

To run up the cow fields with the

Daniels dairy boys 

The dank sweet smell of the

Cold milk stored in bottles

For the route

Or play Fred Biletnikoff football

with the red headed Thompson 

twins 

Florida State seldom winning 

To climb the black cherry tree

In front of Grandma Carrie Ethel’s

And eat more than I picked for

Monny’s pie.

Then high on East River Mountain

behind the brick house with the

dark basement with the real little girl

Stove my mamma had as a girl

The Red Ridge Runner narrow gauge

 train would whistle

and we’d beg someone to take us up

For a ride in the black Buick

Uncle Kermit couldn’t

He was smoothing out next door

Uncle Don couldn’t

He was down at the telephone plant

Monnie wouldn’t

She had a cherry pie in the oven

But mamma would

And up we’d go

Down Cumberland road

To turn and go up just out of

Bluefield 

to see everyone way down there

as Aunts and Uncles and Cousins

And friends below.

Carson

 Paula bought Carson by today to shoot the Glock 19 BB pistol i got. He's a good shooter. Went through 2 co2’s.