John Clare Stokes
It's a painful thing
This pull to reclaim
The works of man
We hew the pew
From the oak
Sew the curtain
From the cotton
Then comes the briar
The branch
The worm
To reclaim its own
We held so long
The burning of the
Slow pulling rope
Stings
Taking men's things
Across the line
Winning every time.
Verbenadale Church
Williston
John Clare Stokes
Tell us a mystery
I shall tell you one
How opened upon
The old pulpit dusty
Dry bones long dead
Began to tremble
And then assemble
When words were read
Come forth His cry
You army of bones
To Zion march on
Ye shall not die
What a mystery!
In the first year of his reign, in the first month, he opened the doors of the house of the LORD and repaired them.
Good lesson for me. What is entering the door of my heart, through my eyes, into my thoughts? What filth do I harbor deep within the temple?
It took sixteen days for the priests and the Levites to cleanse the temple. May the work upon my doors begin today!
john clare
each day
she would pray
give us this day
our daily bread
each night
she would write
in her diary
thank you humbly
for the bread
today
but mostly
she dreamed
it would be
Zaxby's
for daily bread
is good
and give thanks
she would
but every now and then
she would amend
her prayer to begin
thanking the Lord
for a son
who would come
and say
mamma
lets give thanks today
for some Zaxby's.
Would cause you
To come to me
All skinny in halter
Top hippy
Long flower twined
Hair falling revealing
Just the edge of
Flesh not tan
Cruel muse to
Send me back
Before the sag
Caught up.
John Clare Stokes
Between the final act of life
(Of what is left of it)
Save for the five-minute smoke break
(At intermission )
Lungs shot to hellacious
Forgotten chain-sucking Thespian
The lines of the Bard mumbled,
"Nor moody beggars, starving for a
time, of pell-mell havoc and confusion".
The disengaged,sullen orderly wheels
Henry the fourth
off stage to room five b with
The drawn curtains,
(Yellowed-fingers tremble)
Bed bound the encore call cord
beyond reach,
O'er and o'er the lines lipping
"O the ignominy sleep with thee in
the grave, but not remember'd in
Thy epitaph!"
In thy epitaph!
john clare
Sunday
there were several
empty seats
where Megan and family
once sat
quietly watching
while sister went under
it did sink into her
for she went to Indiana
baptized by daddy
while one with her perm
i imagine was squirming
in her front row seat
hoping she too
would not have to go
under
wetting her nice do
combed so lovingly
by Megan.
Sat across the aisle
Where she talked continual
From Lawton to Dallas.
