Sunday, December 1, 2024

Intervention Poetry


 Intervening Poetry

by john clare


Can you take my life and make it a poem? he said,

lately everything has taken on new meaning

and I would rather you make sense of it instead

of a higher power coming down and intervening.


So I took a close look into his life and found

the reason why things were void of rhyme.

I took the quill and parchment to write it down,

trying not to be too vague or sublime.


It took several revisions before I was pleased

and presented it to him with nervous anticipation,

hoping his life now a poem would allow him to see

and appreciate the finer insights of inspiration.


It wasn't long before I received a call

and it was my friend all in a terrible confusion

that it wasn't what he expected at all

Where did you get the words you were using?


Such are the traps we enter when our friends

ask the poets to compose lines upon their lives

and the barbs stick and the bleeding begins

as if my pen was meant as a daggered knife.


So I took the eraser and began anew the lines

and wrote a simple nursery rhyme easy to

understand and certain not to offend this time,

but as a poet of lives I was through.


And on the wall framed for all to see

is the poem composed with mixed intention.

Each time it is read I cringe greatly

for you see, he really needed that intervention.

Bend Low

 Many the time I’ve witnessed her 

Bending low to reveal her sandy spine

I cast my eyes askance at her demure

The flood cloak left for another time.



Mesech


 Mesech


Woe is me, that I sojourn in Mesech, that I dwell in the tents of Kedar! Psalm 120:5


Recently the fellowship experienced an upheaval, a shift in the leadership. What had been a dwelling in Zion, now seemed a Mesech. And so the harps were hung upon the willows and there was a longing for the Ivory Palaces. And so there is a striking out in the wilderness, in search. Little do we realize the futility, for the fire by night did not move, but we did.

Palmetto man


 A palmetto halo


It’s about the only crown

This shadow of a man shall adorn

No goodness found

Of all righteousness shorn


We men the earth born

into darkness and shadow dwell

Can the fallen leaves ever adorn

The green of life before we fell?

Sorrel

Consider


Consider the wood sorrels

My sad, downtrodden friend

They neither toil or spin

But simply bring joy to

Sad, downtrodden friends.


The Robin came


 And then....


And then a Robin came

Before the rains

And sang a song

And it wasn’t long

I sang along

And like that

My sorrows were gone.

Tall pines


 In the tall tall pines


Yesterday at about the 

end of light 

I saw in the tall tall pines

Flitting about 

A Monarch that had earlier 

emerged out

Resting in the tall tall pines

for the long long flight

on strong wing

her bearings given

at the dawn of Creation.

Bend low

 Many the time I've seen the old river

Bend low to reveal her curving spine

I cast my eyes from her demure

Knowing floods shall cover her in time.


Memory of Mixson


 Memory of Mixson

John Clare stokes


Coming to Williston in sixty-seven

That summer this seventh grader

got his first job driving a tractor for

Clifford Mixson in Morriston 

After nearly running over him

Teaching me the gears and clutch

Such a patient man

And so I began out Freddie Hale way

Spending all day for a dollar an hour

in the hay field

And at the end of day

I’d pull into the shade

And wait for him

To take me home

And if I broke down

There was no phone

And I’d just sit in the shade all day

In hopes Mixson would come

To check up on me.


A praise

Wendell Berry


His memories lived in the place

like fingers in the rock ledges

like roots. When he died

and his influence entered the air

I said, Let my mind be the earth

of his thought, let his kindness

go ahead of me. Though I do not escape

the history barbed in my flesh,

certain wise movements of his hands,

the turns of his speech

keep with me. His hope of peace 

keeps with me in harsh days,

the shell of his breath dimming away

three summers in the earth.

The Browns


 "If you are one who fears the LORD, He will teach you the way you should choose. You will enjoy good things in your life, and your children will inherit the land. If you fear the LORD, He will be your friend and show you what His covenant means." Psalm 25:12-14.

It was the year 1976, the Stokes family reunion in Homewood, Mississippi. It was a Sunday afternoon and my father,mother, Lewis and Goliath drove out from Homewood in Scott County to visit  William Henry and Juliah Hettie Brown, whom was as a father to my father in his days of growing up there before WW2. It was the last time my father would ever see them again, William died in 1986 and Juliah in 1992. I think when we left that afternoon they knew that as well.

In the tock



 

Ethels remains


 Shoes and shawl that Ethel wore

John Clare Stokes


I like the song Tom T Hall sang on his Songs from Sopchoppy album, Shoes and dress that Alice wore. Several years back, my cousin from Mississippi, Jeanne Bradford Rowland, gifted me with her mother and my fathers mother  size 4 shoes, her shawl, dress gloves and a braided lock of her auburn hair. We never knew Ethel Marie Wike, born Jan 28, 1899 and who died sadly on August 1, 1937 at their home in Homewood, Mississippi. My father was only 14 and Aunt Esther Irene 11. Recently the shadow box the items were in was broken by the cats. Yesterday the new and deeper shadow box arrived. I am grateful to Jeanne for keeping her memory alive.