Johnclarestokes
He sits drinking
Dark roast like
There is nothing better to do
They say the rain is coming
the clouds of mid blue
seem to bear witness to
contradiction
and he contemplates
where the graves go
how deep the angled hole
It just doesn’t seem time
but the dark roast is gone
Time to find the craftsman
spade with the lifetime
warranty and commence
To bury
for he’s a grave digger
John Clare Stokes
Dear Lin Wood
This is no good
The alien lines are long
Lin Wood
We can’t even afford wood
Soon food
The gas range is silent
Bullets too few
Lin Wood
You said you
Have the evidence
to restore the
orange one
Lin Wood
We can’t keep on
Lin Wood
Johnclarestokes
How long does one dwell in the presence
Of those gone on
Seems they haven’t left us
In all the familiar places
We see the coffee made just so
The same eggs and grits off the menu
We inexplicably pull the visor down
Even upon the cloudy day
“It’s going to rain, see, the cows
are laying down”
Make the same familiar comments
“It seems they are on a trip”, she’d say,
as we passed the Dicks place.
We would go along, never tell
No, they both have died.
The trip is where we’d rather reside.
john Clare stokes
We haven't even made Mother's Day
And already Sisyphus is humming
Auld lang syne
Quitting in the middle of merry May
Refusing another incline to climb.
Off your behind demands rock man
I think it's gonna take a long time
I'm not the man they think I am
Oh no,a bolder man find
Sisyphus gives his too weak notice.
"We sense a human presence...yet no specific person...he seems a really suppressed guy....that must be what this stuff is all about....breathtaking feats of prestidigitation....you almost expect a toothy de Kooning woman to emerge....
~ Ursula K. LeGuin (Painting by N. C. Wyeth)
Beneath the May moon
I sit beneath the moon so often
Praying for Landon and Jordon
Thanking God for having two sons
And having known my grandson.
It’s all but impossible
To look right at you
Without you being here
It doesn’t keep me from
Thinking of you
When once you were near
The morning was windy and I was
expectant
watching the sky for the child
to run past fast
Kite in tow
Scissor tail undulating
lifting on string
playing out
laughter with wonder
as the kite
high and out of sight
catches a thermal to
take flight.
Sat below too many a May moon
Prayed in whispers to the night dwelling
Hoped beyond the doubtful reality
That all would somehow aright
The bird from paradise will come
With shadow it shall intersect
Upon the sidewalk void of shadow
Another will pass and lament
His years of tears at the very same moment.
John Clare Stokes
Do you remember when
on the beach that day
you stood before the wind
storm coming your way?
What did you see
within those furious swirls
while others fled the sea
and gathered their little girls?
Do you miss your boisterous friend
now that calm has come?
Do you ever long for the wind
and just cry some?
The other day as I stood
this fleeting wind howled past
I stood bravely as one should
and waited his terrible blast.
But at the last moment a calm
as I stood in stillness alone.
A wisp said, for you I have not come,
for the one who stood strong I long.
So little one, if you hear,
your old friend seeks you still
The girl without the fear
Laughing with the winds thundering peal.
John Clare Stokes
Gerald gave Pearl's swing a fresh coat of
white paint just in time for Mother's Day. The last memory of grandma Carter was on the porch, the climbing roses at her back, the little grand children on either side, simple plaid cotton dress, hair up in the netted bun, no make-up of course,
The same place she later had the massive stroke, Melanie noticing her swinging, staring far, far away.
