Journey with John Stokes

Tuesday, July 8, 2025

Chill

Some days my desire to sit and chill outweighs my desire to get up and seek a roseate spoonbill.

Tonight we went for ten...on tires of German...Oh if only I could spin...like old Jens. And I am sure I was the older rider upon my tour today, at 70, but a slow shell of a once young and even then, not so fleet rider.

And he talks with me

An oil painting of pappy Earnest Stokes beneath the big mulberry tree in Homewood, Mississippi. Resting in the shade, his garden already in while the Tadlocks labor on.

The chairs were at my fathers place in Crawfordville where we spent much time after our labors in quiet contemplation.

End of flight

Johnclarestokes

My end of flight

Was in sight

When a great white

Left me one of his

Feathers of flight.

Sirens of Gum Swamp

Sirens on the Gum Swamp

John Clare Stokes

Not a land for the smooth of hand

Slash pine sap oozes into the sand

Timber rattlers under palmetto lurk

Wood rider tram lines etched in dirt.

Rare the pines that bear the V scars

That held the pots that caught the tar

For paper a hundred in a day now fall

Turpentine stills only the eldest recall.

The old oak stands mark the homesteads

Cracker culture long since forgotten dead

A few of the split rail fences remain

Soon to fall as the sirens reclaim.

And in the night up Gum Swamp way

A cross cut saw is heard as the pines sway

They say it's the ghost of the two

A hush as the sirens come wailing through.

Jake Jake

John Clare Stokes

Tell me Brother Jake

What did it take

To keep you

On the narrow way?

Was it the words

In red of King James?

No, you say?

It was the fried okra green

From Sister Ramona's

Kitchen, oh my!

Now i hear say

A man must love Jesus

But Jesus ain't gonna

Feed us no okra

Like Sister Ramona can!

Jake Jake

That’s what it take.

Monday, July 7, 2025

Night Sounds

The night sounds were stirring

Cats purring moths whirring

Scents alluring

Fairies from their lofty

Moorings descending

Joining in

The nightly symphony

It’s not just the photography

The words that go with it are too

When one just shares the photo only

I get a certain feeling of eschew.

Lost in a low tide

We said here is where

We will always abide

Just upon the edge

Of this calm seaside

Such a gentle tide

We paid no heed

To those moving

Further inland

The tides peaceful

Rising

Without warning

Came the rogue wave

Overturning the calm

By this time

The gentle tide

Was long gone

We were ripped

Awake

Guardian Dragons

by john clare

I had to paddle ever so quietly

Above circled the dragonfly patrol

I knew in their hammock I wasn't supposed to be

Spiders on the trunks pointed and said, Go!

The recent floods had opened the long impassible channel

A narrow passage in the shade of the bald cypress

Gliding slowly I was transported as in a spell

Deeper into the shadow of an uncoiling shimmering caress

The dragonfly guardian awoke me at the hyacinth gate

Cocking his smiling but stern face as he scolded me

Good thing he gained my attention before it was too late

Agkistrodon piscivorus was poised to drop from the tree.

As the kayak emerged into the piercing hot light

The dark waters rippled from a splash

Wolf spiders scurried to gloat another doom

The Osprey clutched the moccasin as he passed.

Fodder wing

Fodder Wing

By John Clare

Few there are and far between the Fodder Wings

Those with whom heaven and nature sings

As Blake conversing with Ezekiel beneath the tree

Or communing with the critters as did Assisi.

Who hear Sandhill Cranes and long to fly

Stuffing sleeves with hay from barn lofts touching sky

Misunderstood seers scolded yet loved for the leap

Limping alongside Yearlings in the piney woods deep

The eyes of perception clear as the Juniper Run

Everything temporal appearing in the Infinite One

Little John's upon Patmos Hammocks caught in the spirit

As beside in shade the signifying Angel sits

Naming the creatures passing through the earthly paradise

From ole Slewfoot to the spotted Flag, knowing all

Heaven and nature as One in a Fodder Wings life

As from hay lofts high soar the strands of straw.

Garden of earthly blights

Garden of Earthly Blights

by john clare

In our garden of Springs hope

We plowed our rows with care

Already tasting the coming harvest

Such a perfectly sown garden there.

Soon with the sun came the sprouts

Peas,okra, carrot,squash and corn

Nice picket fence keeping pests out

We hummed in harmony the broken morn.

Daily we came with hoe in hand

To dare a weed choke our seeds

This was destined to be a garden grand

One to supply all our tasty needs.

It's not certain when the weeds choked

Somewhere between the drought and deluge

Or was it when like plants the weeds looked

I suppose even a hoe looks good with enough rouge.

All remains in this Summer misery

Okra so hard we now have nice nails

Carrots the size of Winky’s pinkie

A regular nightmarish veggie tale.

So grow in your glory you weeds

Your trickery lasts but for a season

Winn Dixie again this family feeds

Even our China seeds committed treason!

Muses