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.
Whose sons do not come
To serve her breakfast in bed
Burnt toast and scrambled egg
No hand scribbled card written
Colored with greatest care
Silence from afar deafening
She begins anew the search for sons
Cats, dogs, chickens, ducks trying
Unable to silence the inner crying.
