To sea

 

I am here

 I am here

I am in the first light of soft dawn

Giving direction to the way of day

In the first slant of sun ray over

the lawn

Cut low for you to romp upon

In the high noon straight shadows

Watching in the cool, dark shade

Awaiting the coming afternoon shower

Where in the puddles we will splash

Then dry to the fading light of evening

Knowing this is a great cycle of light

We have been so blessed to partake.

But a mare

But a mare

john clare 

O ye who calls the wind to rhyme

The waters to flow in meter'd time

Suns to shine in light sublime

Moons to rise on hearts that pine

In dream the words you find

Rhymes to cause a world to mind

You awake to command the stars

Shoot o'er the lovers from far

Come nigh moon to the mourn

Sun give warmth to forlorn

O the heaven alas does not forbear 

The dream was but a mare.

Suwannee Bonnie O

Bonny Suwannee O!

john clare stokes

Adapted from John Clare poem, Bonny Lassie O!

O the evening's for the fair, Bonny Suwannee O!

To meet the cooler air and join an Ibis there,

With the dark dishevelled Clare

Bonny Suwannee O!

The bloom's on the briar, Bonny Suwannee O!

Seed cones on the cypress; and wilt thou gang to see 

The shoals that roil for thee,

Bonny Suwannee O!

Tis agen the running stream, Bonny Suwannee O!

In a sandy nook hard by, with a little patch of sky.

Beneath a button bush to keep us dry

Bonny Suwannee O!

There's the milkwort’s all the year, Bonny Suwannee O!

There's the Jessamine bright as gold, and the Otter never cold,

And the Iris flags unfurled,

Bonny Suwannee O!

O meet me at the shoal, Bonny Suwannee O!

With the Wood stork flying in, 

And the wild Azaleas like thy skin

Blushing thy praise to win,

Bonny Suwannee O!

I will meet thee there at e'en, Bonny Suwannee O!

When the bee sips on the tupelo and Barred Owls on

Branches lean

And the moon beam looks between

Bonny Suwannee O!

Like a painting

The faster the boy biked

The land seemed a painting

It was a world he liked

Quite enchanting

Loser?

 In this life

There will always be the

Connected

Astute

Savvy

Shrewd

Tuned

Focused

But do not let it

Deter

Or stop you

Yes

To the banks 

May go the money

And to the walls

Of others adorned

But as a friend said

Losing doesn't make one

A loser

Anna Belle

 Anna Belle

And for a moment

She was an artist again

Deep breath wonderment 

Ink flowing freely

Down Pounds

 Down Pounds 

Once was the time

A ride down Pounds Hammock

was something looked forward to

the pines lining both sides of the

often about deep enough to get stuck in sand

road with tracks bearing turkey and deer

butterflies and honey bees swarming

on the flowers in the zone between ditch 

and pines, stopping often for just watching

jets passing through the myriad stars above

but not today for in the recent seasons the

timber men have taken about all the pine

pesticides or something has gotten the

butterflies and various insects

Just a lone dragonfly escorted me today

I’ll be a much older old man

by the time all these empty tracts fill in

the barren Pounds Hammock again

with planted pine.

Lotto land

 It’s getting too late in life for winning that mega million

Having homes in Mississippi 

Kentucky

West Virginia

And Sopchoppy when I’m in

Flaridy 

Buy back that old home of ours I would

Set it up with plenty of land

For grapes and sugar cane

Wouldn’t even have to find a mill

Or a kettle 

Being a mega million man

I’d have plenty of family

Company

Those willing to help me

Grind out a cooking come 

Thanksgiving

Sunday after the grinding

We would gather in Verbenadale

Restored down to the 

Prepare to meet thy God sign

Upright piano, red muslin curtains.

Wish I could again see

Doyle and Pearl there.

Joy of poetry

 Joy

I once had friends 

Who shared poetry

With me

From Katie to Joy

I remember them all.

Angeline

 926-1371

Calling Angeline Donaldson

On Highway 61

In Buckhorn

The little boy we learned

Has been burned 

Scalded with coffee

He's asking for you

Please come

Hold him in your

Black arms

We are so alarmed

We may lose 

Little Jumpy.

Cats in the cradle

 And the cats in the cradle

In the iPhone consumed

Little boy blue and the man

On the itune

When you gonna look up Dad 

I don't know when, but by then, the wind will be gone

But then you'll be scrolling.

I know you'll have a great time scrolling.