Sand In face

The day Mr. Sand in face received the Charles Atlas plan in the mail. Just wait until summer at the beach!

Dispersion Home

 Dispersion Home

John Clare Stokes

Dropping into the lake that Spring morning

The warmth of the wood box high above me

I joined my brothers and sisters joyfully

And knew immediately an inner yearning.

I knew without warning of Gators and Snakes

To be avoided 

I knew without seeing a longing for a distant home

That I must forage continually to grow strong

In order to join the grand, gathering dispersion.

I recall vividly the first chill of Autumn

How from this lake as if on cue

We lifted and knew the way as we in

V formations were joined with

Wings of purpose soaring toward the

Home we always knew from fledglings.

And so now I lay in the old nest box

From which I came

Beneath me the ones who will heed 

 their inner calling

As upon their grand migration I shall see

But not join

But this I shall know as from the beginning

Dispersion Home was always the deepest

Instinct within me.

Present

 Present place

I’ve dwelt in a past so wistfully blue

I’ve dreamt of a future blue with mystery

In a present place of light so true I dwell. 

Plumb line

 A plumb line

Behold, I am setting a plumb line in the midst of my people Israel. Amos 7:7.

Keith-2021

 Keith

Since I left Baya rather abruptly two years ago, being fired for taking photos, imagine that, I really wanted nothing to do with anyone there. So sadly, when I went into the Urgent Care last week, only because they had x-Ray, the girls, some whom I still care for there, told me Keith Norris, the AM drug driver had passed away from Covid in September. I sure wish I’d have known, but like I said, I really didn’t want to keep in touch. He and Shep, the other driver I really liked and we were friends.

My photographing people in Gainesville was blown way out of proportion and the knee jerk reaction to make me some perv unwarranted. Nevertheless, I was glad to go for the very day I was fired I was hired to be a photographer for the company a good friend works for. This was a photo I took of Keith in 2018 as you can guess, I took all of Baya employees photographs. That’s what I did. Imagine that. 

I told them I wasn’t going to stop.

Bob White

 Bob White

John Clare Stokes

November mornings I hear the bob white

whistling in the kitchen and know 

that soon the cane syrup

will be hopping by the noon light,

the amber sweetness compared to Berts

down in the woods of Mt Beasor, 

out from Sopchoppy, 

with Mrs Cora teaching Clara the art of

fluffy biscuits for the Methodist preacher,

with a little help from Mary Rudd above,

while little Jumpy climbs high the pummy 

pile to claim king of the mountain,

only to be cast down by Robert his best friend

to muster the strength to climb again,

as over the green stamp plates grace is said,

the syrup poured reverently over the hot biscuit,

and later in the night while awake in his bed,

the little boy quietly whistles for bob white,

knowing he will soon answer in the cold

starry November Wakulla night.

He must increase

I must decrease

I recall when Landon and I studied what scripture he wanted for his first tattoo. 

It couldn’t be too long(pain) or too short, Jesus wept. He settled upon one of my favorite verses from John, John 3:30 where upon seeing Jesus, John the Baptist exclaimed, “He must increase, but I must decrease”. 

A surfer then, I do not know if he still has the tattoo under his left bicep. When he entered the Air Force, he had to remove one painfully on his neck.

Daily I struggle with this scripture. Today I said, no weigh! I refused to weigh as every day has been a gain, not just physical, but ego and other load bearing sin, and at the same time, I read the daily scriptures which I often fall behind in, His increase so needed.

Mammas spittle

 Mamma's Spittle

John Clare Stokes

Photograph by John Stokes

The scratch was just

A minor thing

Out of proportion 

To the wailing

Thinking

This finger is severed

Down to bone!

And as by Divine touch

Mamma would gently

Rub her spittle

Dry the crying eyes

With fragrant hair 

And say

"Go now, fall no more",

And we would depart 

In wonderment

Whole again

Scolding the

Doubting

Severed finger.

Tears of Grey

 Tears of Gray

John Clare Stokes 

In my every solemn timid step

I hear their measured determined cadence

The awful thunder in the far Olustee distance 

I move aside and bow my head in respect.

Standing alone in the charred out palmetto 

Looking through the piney woods smoldering

Mine eyes amidst the ranks of gray beholding

I follow from afar where the ghosts are marching.

To Ocean Pond they come to meet the invaders

The cannon raining cones upon us rebel yelling

The Pileated fleeing with the yellow- bellied

Keeping apace with the boys hasty drumming.

A leap of ember and a sudden reeling

Why have I followed these gray wraiths 

Cowardly I tremble behind a loblolly safely

Musket and grape shot the rosin bark peeling.

In the aftermath on the quiet Osceola palmetto glade

Eyes stinging from the sulfurous all enveloping choking 

There stares an artiface rigid in the smoke

Tears of grey an ascending sacrifice made.

My buddy

 My Junior year in high school I wanted to be a SCUBA diver. I traveled to Ocala from Williston once a week to the NASDS school on Silver Springs Blvd for lessons. First few weeks were spent in class. Later we went to a local hotels pool for putting our book knowledge to reality. We paired up to learn the buddy system. I was paired with a lady that seemed to excel in class.

First lesson in the pool was clearing the mask and then buddy breathing. I took a breath of air and handed the regulator to my buddy. She would not give it back. She panicked in a pool. I had to surface. Nevertheless the classes smartest failed and dropped out.

I went on to pass my open water test at Royal Springs and got my dive card.

This scubapro fin is all that remains of my dive gear from the Hal Watts diving school.

Choose your buddy wisely.

Date night

 Date Night

Blind John Magoo

I try not post syrupy lubby dubby stuff. I’ve deleted several lubby dubby couples over the years infatuated with their trophy wife or masculine male. I try to be sensitive to those who do not have lubby dubby relationships and how it also makes them go like me, yuk, get a room you two. Oh, just Ignore those two Nikons on the love seat.

The journey

 The journey

John Clare Stokes

Again we ponder our

Diminishing return

To the present

We ponder in 

Toned down wonder

How the past

Came to this

Is it any wonder

When we ponder

The future is 

Possible

Seaboard Coastline Station

Orlando