Gerald

 Pappa Gerald  

 by john clare

 

  Mayor of wonderful Williston 

 No finer they come  

Sunday school teacher 

 Bronson  First Baptist believer 

 Fisher fine on Orange Lake 

 Always the limit he takes 

 Best you ever saw 

 Fireman always on call 

 Cooks the finest brisque 

 You try it first he insists 

 Patient with a house full of sisters on meds 

 Mostly piddles in the man shed  

 Loves the grand kids all  

 Even from jails when they call 

 Pappa the keeper of the fire 

 Pappa the quencher of fires 

 Pappa the lover of fire  

Williston the loser if he ever

 retires....

Iris

 From the burns of fall  

 Comes the Versicolor harlequin 

 The Blue Flag iris 

 Queen of Osceola forest

Seeking

 Through the archway trap he made his way  

The seeker of elusive Sasquatch 

 Little did he know he was prey 

  That he was being watched  

 They found his camera fifty feet up 

 His tripod twenty feet under  

 Tracks ended where flesh and fur struck 

 Where they went, today we wonder?

Wake me

 Tuesday don’t wake me 

Wake me when it’s all clear

Like Rip I think I’ll just sleep

to awake after many years

in a world that never weeps.

Squash star

 Squash star

In the night there came from afar

Under the mystery of the new moon

The most perfect yellow star

To lift below those mired in gloom.

Sending bouquets

 Sending bouquets 

The most difficult task for bouquet boy

Was learning how to send a bouquet 

To one long gone from our waking way

And if it arrived and was met with joy.

Islands 2020

 Islands 

Never would have dreamed

We’d see the time we became

Islands unto ourselves

Separated all about by murky 

waters 

Fearful to venture beyond

Letting the powers tell us

This is the way

It shall be

926-7068

 Lewis, our father called....

the phone that was in my fathers old home place at 

Crawfordville, Florida. My sister Paula has it in her 

kitchen, it still works. It always reminds me of the Twilight Zone episode 19, Night Call, Season 5.

American Lady

 Madame Butterfly   

john clare stokes

Took to the field yesterday 

 Net and field guide in hand  

Chasing about the marshy land 

 In pursuit of an American lady 

 We tried to identify the soubrette  

 As she flapped about 

 I gave a joyful shout 

 Look all! Amercian Lady

 in my net!

Press

 Press

johnClare Stokes

Canvas planes

Are fragile things

Paper wings

Carrying

Aloft in light

 the

Soaring friend

Upper currents

Lifting

We could not

Ground the

Little plane

Of fragile wing

Fold and

Neatly Pressed 

Caressed below

The restless

Pilot

And off he did go

Confetti 

Remnants raining 

Parachute billows

Of dangled string

Gently descending

But no friend

to earthly Tarmac 

Did land

The paper plane

Of fragile wing

Flamed to realms

Where grace

Abounds

The silver cord

Unbroken drew

As we too

Longed to touch

Our paper planes

The same as

Did he

Pressing on

Toward 

Christ's 

Taboric light.

Jumpy

 Jumpy

My father planted the sweet gum tree soon after we moved to Williston in 1967. As a 180 low hurdler on the track team, I’d hurdle the tree each Sunday on the way to church, our parsonage then being beside the Methodist church. With each passing when I’m in Williston, I’m amazed by its size and when it was but a sapling.

Rocky

 Putting an old dog down

Aurelia D Wallace

When the time comes

And the vet says no hope,

I could lift your painful body

On your favorite rug to the back seat

(You loved a joy ride in the car)

And start this kinder journey.

Even the steel table in the final room,

Glistening like a dream's epiphany,

Is no longer cold to touch.

While he readies the needle, I pat

Your softest hair(so soft so many times

To bury a weeping face in) and lay

My fingers on your quiet pulse.

Your great sweet eyes lock mine:

Thank you for this. 

A little jab, a minor ceremony in my heart;

Eyes mist, then close; the pulse and all

The suffering are gone.

I could do this simple thing for you

If you were not

My mother.

Jordon taking our dog Rocky on his final trip March 5th.