Driving Miss Daisy

 Your purpose

Before you expire

Find a mug

That doesn’t make

You look Daisies

Chauffeur

But then

Had I a Daisy 

I’d grow lazy

Waiting all the day

For her to say

John Boy

Crank the

rolls roy.

Rossi rains

 Rossi rains

The ditches soon became swift streams making their way downhill to the Price Creek which in turn sent the waters to Alligator Lake which in turn with its dry falls sinks and Rose creeks eventually meandered its way toward Itchetucknee who sent the Rossi rains on to the Santa Fe who in time offered them to Suwannee who never satiated in its flow finally gave an account of its work to the Gulf.

Aristides freeze

Aristides Freeze

The day upon the walk I carry no carrot

Why Aristides strides to the fence 

Rubbing his mane he nudges the pocket

Never leave Aristides in disappointment!

What call ye

 What call ye?

I’ve known those

who n’er took up

brush, camera or pen

and they were the

best of artists among men

I’ve known those

who took up

brush, camera and pen

and I could hardly call them

artists among men.

I’ve known a few

who truly were the artists

of brush

Camera

Pen

These the men

I thank God

to have called

my friend

Gold rush

 Gold rush

Johnclarestokes 

I’ve told for years my life as a prospector

How for so long the gold I have mined

Of journey time upon time to the end of line

The wealth untold with a full heart to gather.

Still life

 Still life

Johnclarestokes 

We arrived to the end of flowing

Not wanting to stir the still

So we just back paddled knowing

In time we’d enter that eternal chill.

Ah day

 Yes, I caught your gaze

In your gentle passing

The slow hand raised

In a wave

What was that you

Were about to say?

Ah day, I must move 

On my way.

A rich man

 

Esther Moore

 Esther Moore.

Answer me this first. How can one simply type a name in and not have it revert to Demi Moore or some other person? Annoying.

Rode out yesterday to Esther Moore's old homeplace. Esther never married and lived on the old home place most of her life, first keeping her parents, then her sister. She passed away this past April in her 90's. Even though the sign said "No Trespassing, Beware of Dog", I said, "Just a few quick shots". Sure enough, greeting me on the road as I left was Wayne, not too happy looking. I explained how I knew Esther and how we used to come out and plein air paint the old buildings. I apologized for trespassing and asked meekly if ever so often I could come out and take some photographs? Thankfully he said I could and I gave him my card. As my wife said recently, "Someday you are going to wind up in jail or shot." Don't tell her I almost did yesterday!

Who would ever

Who would ever

by john clare

Who would ever dream

the day would come when

Kodachrome would no

longer be made

That Nikormats of metal

couldn't even be pawned

The slides would mold

and the images degrade?

They said they would

last for fifty years

And so they did

Softly focused and

slowly composed

Suwannee scenes splotched

The memory of the day

faded as if never

were we there

But I swear

We were

Who would ever

dream?

His Eye

 His eye

John Clare Stokes

Was this the eye of prey

Watching the sparrow perch

To pounce and suddenly slay

Nothing but Cheshire smirch 

Was this the eye of friend

Watching the sparrow sing

To stay the sudden pouncing

The eye of loving wing

Or was it the eye of One

Who watches every tiny thing

Staying the claw from coming

To little wings.

Lulu

 Lulu Slave Cemetery

John Clare Stokes

In the near ghost town of Lulu seven miles out from Lake City on SR100, a quarter mile down on the left past the now closed general store, there is a sign. The sign marks the location of the Mt Zion Slave Cemetery. In years gone by, there once was a lone caretaker of the graves, the Rev Joseph Anthony Sr. He could often be seen faithfully and lovingly in his bent position raking and keeping the encroaching brush from enveloping the few graves. And then in October of 2000, Rev Anthony passed on to his reward. They carried his casket from his house approximately four miles south of Lulu on CR241, all through the streets of Lulu, so old Joe could see his beloved Lulu one last time. In 2009 Lenoria, his daughter was buried, who had taken up the care. Joe was a  cotton picker. They cared for the graves of the cotton pickers. And the weevil and the briar march on.