Swan song

 Swan song

Count the times 

Between the swans

We’ve come and gone

Leaving home

Coming home

And wonder if ever again

Some will never be

Leaving home or

Coming home

Walk between the swans again

And hum that familiar song

Come home

A new kid in town

 Not mine

Times I think of her

Up there in that second

Mountain home

Alone with family

I think

This could have been mine

The walks in the cool morning

Stops in shops for antiques 

But she did not want this for me

She was rather insistent

Upon not sharing it with one

Who stayed home

Never went with her

Always chasing after him

Expecting someday he’d reform

Oh maybe when I’m eighty

She will have pity

And admit

I wish you’d been mine

From the fourth grade on.

Vbs

 Viper Bible School

The CrossPoint Church 

Will not offer fun

The theme is suffering 

Bethel AME offers

The Jesus Connection

No devices allowed

The Church of Christ

Will have a backyard 

Adventure of Exploring

Gods word

Burning stakes will 

Begin promptly at 6pm.

Oak Grove Baptist

Will simply hold one

No theme

Bring your own axe

Southside Baptist

In lieu of bounce house

Cotton candy and games

Will offer a concentration 

Camp experience 

Grace Life regrets to

Inform the

Incrediworld Amazement Park

Was too ambitious and will

Offer a dark catacomb adventure.

Four area Methodist churches

Pooled to form an abundant Orchard

But instead will portray forty days in the wilderness being tempted.

Our sincere apology to the

Serpents who had planned to 

Strike rocks, eat manna, make 

Golden crafts.

The secret place

 The secret place

There are places reserved

Places possibly all know

 But to us especially special

It is there we can go.

Secret of soar

 The secret of soar

John Clare Stokes

There are man made helps 

Out there

Ways to kick start the soar

The hot dark brew in a favorite mug

The purring kitty

The watchful dog

The comfortable chaise free of dew

Fresh hummingbird nectar

A waning moon 

Clear blue heavens

some Cortazar

And soon I’m soaring

Tour time

 Tour time

John Clare Stokes

Ahhh, good ole July I so looked forward to

for it meant the Tour de France to us few

Roger, Professor and Rick mostly

each our favorite rider to cheer for stage victories 

It used to be the Americans like Lance

and Floyd or the French and Italian like Fignon,

Basso or the Pirate Pantani 

Caught up in doping and removing victory from 

history

Heroes were few

But we found new ones

Young and fast Sagans

Air the old gatorskins again to 110 psi 

Squeeze into the stretched thin Lycra kit  

Cinch the old dated Bell helmet for a spin

Just up Rossi Road hors category hill breathless

But hey, wasn’t I a Magnus fast coasting down!

Get high

 The pathways to getting high

Via bottle,pill, snuff, snort,needle 

Or smoke 

Are so uninspired

It's no wonder we are so low

Roline

 Way way up

It was in the summer of ten

And we had survived the winter of nine

So we journeyed up to the remote Roline

Sissy the dog with us for the first time

From a year spent mostly kneeling and prone

To a year just to be grateful to be home

Who dat?

 Who that tappin’

John Clare Stokes

Today I stood in the same spot

Trusting in position 

To catch the Spirit blowing

Knowing He comes when we

Least expect or deserve

Not in the assurance 

Not in the offering

Not in the praying

Not in the word proclaimed

And I was grieved

Moving into the aisle

Turning to leave

When suddenly I turned

A tapping within 

Welling up 

He was there in it all

Just a step from where

He last called.

Stuffy’s

 The John Franklin"Stuffy" Stewart home on Hernando and St.John's streets. Stuffy was born Jan.31,1894 in Jasper, Florida and died  Dec. 30,1980 in Lake City,Florida. Stuffy was a professional baseball player who played second base from 1916 to 1929 with the Cardinals, Pirates,Brooklyn Robins and Washington Senators. He was called the greatest base stealer in Southern Association history when the Senators brought him up in 1925. In the 70's when Stuffy lived in the home, it was so overgrown by vines that you could not see the house from the street. Photo by John Stokes.

Johnson’s

 Johnson's hydrangea

John Clare Stokes

Once we remarked what a lovely display

Old Southron charm, wistful to see

Gone the old ways of the Johnson's

Hydrangeas witness this fallen kingdom.

Rode the horsey

 Rode a horsey

John Clare Stokes

The old shop on the road to Bell closed at last

Sad the case when the sons move from the past

The little horsey once happily ridden lingering

anticipating the return of the son never coming.