Work out

 Strong man

Yesterday I pumped

Ten lines that rhymed

Pressed a sonnet 

Above my ability

Pushed a haiku

To the limit

Not bad for an old man

Of sixty nine

I got this!

Things beyond

 Things beyond

Johnclarestokes 

Many a Sabbath we were admonished to set the

affections on the things above

Look away from the things of this world

But we couldn't stop gazing at what we loved

It became obvious as a white flag unfurling.

We did not have to go about wearing scarlet letters

We knew the color of our deepest affections

Down to the very rhyme, symbol and metaphor

A straight on literal view void of tone or inflection. 

Unable to see the flip side of the veil

Deaf to the heavenly refrain of angels

It wasn't a mystery, we could tell

To us it was mere metal, not a holy grail.

The church

 Connoisseur Church

Oh my! I think we found the church

Yeti mugs to all first time visitors

Brazilian Arabica natural coffee

Tenuta dell'Ormellaia communion wine

Tiffany stained glass

The rector has a doctor of divinity

Degree from Harvard

The praise team sounds just like

Pink Floyd 

The theatre seats recline

It's divine

Popcorn and snacks in the lobby are free

No offering passed

The sermonette is short and relevant 

Kids are kept away in the zoo nursery

They love that silver gorilla 

So gentle

Yes, this is the place

Not a trace of things that offend

No crosses ugly

No references to hell

Just the good news

Just as we are

No need to plea

But that some blood

Shed in this sanctuary? 

Not on our Azure Natural Fiber carpet.

Flames of Tabor

 The flames of Tabor

John Clare Stokes 

Beneath a freezing Luna moth moon

The Arsonist was darkly drawn

Drawn yearning for anything burning 

The old wooden right door opening 

Strewn on worn hand hewn planks

Hymn pages beneath empty pews

Blest be he ties and binds the kindling

For flames in December darkness thanking

At Tabor today no Holy flame dwells

Just a deep, deep dry well

Beneath the Oaks on Sundays now gathering

The mice and moth of the lost Congregation.

Santa Fe wedding

 Anniversary

Johnclarestokes 

Was this the day

that Friday the fifth

In the Santa Fe you did wade

Vows made

That day shade

Deadly

We just couldn't see it

Murky at the time

The spell of cool water

Beneath our bare feet

Keeping such future 

Thoughts at bay

Upon that place

The trees continue 

To fall

Those rocks thought 

So hard

Were but clay

Breaking easily

It's not a spot to say vows

Above in the broken limbs

The wind howls

The Owls they flee

Upstream possibly

It goes underground

Should of known it then.

It was on a Friday the 5th in 2010 we stood in the Santa Fe, the same spot the little baby boy took his first boat ride. It too, was eventful, for the sheer pin on the kicker broke. Downstream and too swift to paddle back, I pulled mamma and baby back with the bowline.

Craps man

 Liquidation

Tears at Sears

John Clare Stokes

Once we worked for minimum wage

Plus commission on all we sold

It was a cut throat arrangement 

And the lazy were not at all content

They called me the Weasel

For from the lazy I would steal

Had to maintain those lofty quotas 

Selling those extended warranties 

Then one day it was announced

The lease was not renewing 

Corporate was closing us

So they bought in a liquidation crew

Even paid the homeless to carry

Signs announcing we were through

Paid them more than we ever made

Even on the best month of watching

Roy and Dave bleed from my slashing.

Bills rearranged sign

Purple Sage

 Riders of the purple sage

Johnclarestokes 

In the brief interludes between our

trips in the Chevys to Dodge and back 

the old Powers pavement bears witness

to the journey West of which Louie wrote

Today Magoo has chosen two entries for the

Wally Reichert Art Show down at the West

Branch Library. It’s been several years since

the last 4th place entry. Perhaps this 

year Magoo will get beyond honorable 

mention.

Kingdoms of sand

 Kingdoms came

Johnclarestokes 

In the sand the shore bore witness 

to kingdoms that had risen and fallen

castles once grand in the tidal sand

Thy will be done mighty ocean

Thy will be done

Cicada dream

 Circadream

John Clare Stokes

It's the reoccurring dreams

That haunt the greatest

Those long laid dormant

Forgotten for many a season

Confident the burying completed

When in the deepest night

From beyond below they emerge

To deafening chorus above

Then as upon a sudden upper cue

Stone cold silence ensues.

Howl

 The earth broth

John Clare Stokes 

It soaks in the rain

With the blood

That pooled where

Brothers fought

It's what the 

Thorns and briars

Need to thrive

The bitter gall

Of a long ago fall

That seems so

Quaint

By today's

Gore 

How serpents 

Could entice

And how fruit

Would suffice

Howling in our

Skins

Still the same

Redeemer 

Who walked then

In the evening

Would send the

Rain

To cleanse the

Blood from your

Stone

Quiet your howling

In the garden

You prowl

Wally Reichert Show

 I think I will go with these unless I change my mind. 11x17 prints. Frames ordered. 

ASP

 What an ASP

In his first move as Chief Executive for Photography, Blind John signed an executive order banning A,S,P from all cameras. Now it’s only M.

When questioned, Blind John stated, “ everyone is a photographer or so they claim, we need some of these ASP’s to move into painting and ruin other lesser known fields.”