Monday, January 6, 2025

It’s a low ride


 It’s a low ride


Today in 2019 the Shoals were beneath the flooding torrent

An easy paddle through the class three rapids

The limestone knives unable to puncture or rent

Hiding even the Gator downstream lazily awaiting


Your capsizing.

Moon web

 We decked the web with jewels

To entice a fairy or two

But we never dreamed the moon

Would fall for our ruse.


Bad day

 Bad day for the bass

Watertown Lake


First the bass was caught by the cormorant. Struggling to shallow him, the bass got away.

Then came the eagle circling and circling, watching for the exhausted bass to surface. With a slow descent, the bass was soon on its way to the Eagles nest where the baby awaits.





Saturday, January 4, 2025

It’s a cookbook!


 Kanamit


Were I to come to this messed up world, this I would do. Rid the land of all solar and wind power, replace with nuclear, coal and natural gas. Remove all dams and restore the rivers. Place all criminal politicians past and present in labor camps. Restore the constitutional republic. Replace all dominion and such voting machines with fool proof paper ballots. Seize all big pharm executives down to local level assets. Void all mandates. Void all executive orders. Remove all regulations against small business. Ban the FDA, EPA and about all three letter government Stalinist departments that tell farmers what to grow, what to kill, what to teach, what bathroom to use and on and on.

And no, it’s not a cook book. It’s the Bible read again in  the churches not strapped with an IRS. Another one of those three letter monsters gone.

Path home


 Pathway home

Johnclarestokes 


Day into day

Night into night

We wait for a sign

Perhaps today the sojourn

Perhaps today the arrival

A word from afar

A hope quite close

Are all the paths destroyed

Do all the watchmen sleep

Cold grows the land

Quiet goes the man


Florida Trail

Little Shoals tract

Suwannee

sun as a moon


 Sun and Moon collusion 

Johnclarestokes 


The sun would rise and play tricks

upon us making one think he is the moon

and every time I’d say, way too soon

to rise in the fog so thick.


And eventually the clouds would reveal

the ruse, and the sun would glare

while at this faux moon I’d stare

Oh, every time the blind fool I’d feel!

Old country

 Magoo was the oldest guy on the lot, save maybe one or two. Magoo drove the oldest vehicle on the lot, save one or two. Magoo does not place his stoked on age. Neither should you. Who now is the old guy? 


Away manager

 For when they shall say, Peace and safety; then sudden destruction cometh upon them, as travail upon a woman with child; and they shall not escape.


Manger after wind storm

Madison


Past John Patrick


 Past John Patrick

Williston


We never quite knew what went on

behind the First Avenue brick facade

We knew that BMW’s went in eventually

to emerge and sit some more on the curb.


Eventually, what was once mystery, behind the boarded door, fell, to reveal, to those now seeing, there was nothing, except we who knew, saw the Night of the living dead

flickering, the vintage old beamers heading up Noble to the Red Devils auto mechanics class.

Nothing but net

 Nothing but net

Johnclarestokes 


it was an icy January...when the Angel came in spite...it was not good to part...leaving the ball in mid flight...but he said, it is time...who makes the last shot...you will soon find...is soon forgot...now lay you down.....the ice will soon thaw....with a swishing sound...in the fields of basketball.


To the memory of Pistol Pete Maravich 

Jan 5,1988

Pistol Pete

John Clare Stokes


Where were you on this day in eighty eight

The day Pistol Pete took his last shot?


Were you on some backyard court

Or were you in a gym in your baggy shorts?


Did you pause to watch the basketball swish?

Or just sit on the bench and for playing time wish?


Do you recall the day the magic came to play?

The capacity crowd watching the floppy sock Tiger


There will never be another Pete Maravich

I was glad I was there to see the all time best.

On this day, January 5, 1988 Pistol Pete Maravich passed away from a heart attack. He was at a church in Pasadena, California where he was playing basketball with James Dobson. He was 40 years old.


"I'd seen Maravich play in New Orleans once. He was something to see. Mop of brown hair, floppy socks, the holy terror of the basketball world. High flying, magician of the court. Scored something like 38 points. He could've played blind. Pistol Pete hadn't played professionally for a while and he was thought of as forgotten. I hadn't forgotten about him though."


Bob Dylan (the morning he heard the news that Pete Maravich passed away), taken from the first volume of his autobiography, Chronicles.


Peter Press "Pistol Pete" Maravich June 22, 1947 - January 5, 1988 Growing up in my life of sport early on I was quarterback Bart Star of Green Bay, wide receiver Fred Biletnikoff of Florida State and guard John Havlicek of the Celtics. Maravich was more my contemporary and I seldom imagined myself him for he was too good.



Friday, January 3, 2025

Rock in 2025

Rockin' with Geezus on the 'trot....knittin' booties a baby's comin'....dippin' Tops a missin' the pot...hesh now don't go a meddlin'....

Hello new year. Year I’ll be 70. Too sobering to think. Older I get realization things I’ll never get. Sent a birthday card to Nathaniel. 13 on the 5th. Haven’t seen since 2. Probably never will. 

Tuesday, December 31, 2024

Walking low


Stairway Made

johnclarestokes 


Walking low we 

 grow accustomed 

To the cadence 

Of the downcast

Seeing not

The Aufzug

The pulling up

For but a moment

Revealing the stairway

Made upon the clouds

Then the curtain lowers

And we walk on

Low below the

Stairway made.