Inner wars

 In inner wars

No, no, no

 No no no

I set you

In this garden

I chose the time

When the blooming

Ends not you

Too soon to wither

On the vine

I water'd and protected

Too sooner than

Expected

Sinister winter

Fallacious fall

Voracious 

You take it all!

Faded glory

 Will they tell

In ages to come

That you on a

Certain 

Tuesday were

 the

Last Glory?

I think it's all written

And recalled

I do not think one

Glory dies

That it was not 

A thing lovingly noted 

Right up there with

On a certain Tuesday

The darkness was 

Separated from 

The light.

O bama

 O bama I confess

Way before it was

The fad

I was bad

I picked that cotton

When it was green

I took it home 

And set it out in 

My field

And I was waitin' for

Everyone to show up

And admire my one

Plant stolen

But they never did

And beside I want a

Refund cause that 

One plant died no

Matter how hard I

Tried to keep it alive 

I ain't never gonna

Steal cotton again

O bama!

Long bide

 Stone Angel resides at Prospect Primitive Cemetery watching over the Lee babies born to live but a brief few days on earth.

Journey 2

 Journey

John Clare Stokes 

Through the cat flap

I shall escape

take the Nikon with the

GoPro 

To journey along the

River bank

Cross the stream 

Find the old path

Through palmetto

To find the place

Where once I traced

The shape of water

Journey

 Journey

John Clare Stokes

At the stroke of dawn

Through the cat flap

I shall escape

take the Nikon with the

GoPro 

To journey along the

River bank

Cross the stream 

Find the old path

Through palmetto

To find the place

Where once I tracked

The scent of Suwannee

Things we don’t say

 In a Moultrie divorce

john clare stokes

Those who were closest

Said they never saw it coming

But we the discerning

We saw it long ago knowing

He spent more and more 

Time with his tree stand

(May as well been another woman)

And she joined that rock band

(May as well been another man)

And we ate around them Thanksgivings and never spoke

Of things we discerned

Those closest going on passing the 

Cranberry and some gravy

She with those chord progressions tacked to the refrigerator

Right over the deer he killed.

The twelve

 The twelve

John Clare Stokes 

What could we twelve do 

when not turning the world upside down 

We could split up into two teams of five

Play a round of basketball 

With old John and Luke as subs

We could take eleven of us

And form a football squad

With John as the water boy 

not sure if anyone would dare 

Play us

With nine we could have a baseball team

With a designated runner, batter and several

Pitchers 

I think we could beat the Philistine Giants

We could take James and Johns nets

and have two volleyball teams

We could have a great cross country team

Led by Peter and John 

Used to running to empty tombs

boy we would shake even the dust on our feet 

The only game we couldn’t play

Would be rugby

Where we’d need fifteen 

Or if we were Aussies, we’d need eighteen

For football

But that about covers it 

And golf 

Did I mention the great golf separating us?

Never mind.

Homespun

 Come ye weary, wayward ones

For you the home ones yearn

The one prays in the blue homespun 

For to the kingdom of home come.

The 1905 Charles Turlington Pioneer Cabin at the Mayo Veterans Park with the homespun dress take off from the Bob Jones painting with the same title.

Home come

 Come ye weary, wayward ones

For you the home ones yearn

The one prays in the blue homespun 

For to the kingdom of home come.

I made a fire

 Papa made a fire today NaNa

Made it in your memory

Used your orange barrow small

To gather up the pine straw

There was no dancing round the kettle

And as the ashes began to

Settle

Pappa just let them fall at will

Pulled closer and tried to shake this Autumn chill.