Infant of days

 There is a limit to your infinity

If you live this side of finite

For beyond the fence and field

The infant of days climbs in trees of life.

Cardinal ends

 Cardinal Ends

  by john clare

   From a blue heaven

  Down for a drink 

 Just half past seven 

 Final chirps were sent 

 Toward blue a gaze 

 Still the sky seems 

 Cracks in water frozen 

Unrepentant the cat preens.

Scooter love

 Scooter swooned 

It only took less than

A minute pausing upon

Thirteenth and

University 

For the jaded old driver

To momentarily forget

He was two days into

 his sixty-second

Year.

Fog

 Fog 

Give me a cold foggy morning

Every time over a clear sunny

Warm dawning

It fits comfortably my psyche 

The disposition of mystery

Too much revealing in this life

Everyone confessing

Telling all

I'd rather dream of the clear

Sunny day

While dwelling in the

Cold foggy mystery.

One leg up

 Begging beyond designated one legged sign area

Purple world

 Purple world

Last evening late in a dream

the most fantastic butterflies

I’d ever seen

myriads of all yellow and lavender

hues alighting upon the purple

bushes

I had trouble getting a good frame

then she shyly came

Said is it ok for me to be here with 

you in this purple world?

I assured her it is fine

We are given into marriage and such

only in our former world

and with that smile I knew so long ago

she stayed beside me

with the purple butterflies

The Watcher

 The Watcher

  Johnclarestokes

   The field grass tips dripped sweet dew

  Sparkling lush as it fell

  Randomly about the feet 

 of the Watcher entering through 

 The gate seldom used 

  In the old days long forgotten 

  The Watcher came frequently

   The pathway like cattle lines 

 With shade from the Oak tree

   Who made the prayer was unknown 

  Why now after so many years 

  So hardened had we grown 

  Cracked dry the etch from tears 

  And from the houses cries arose

   The Watcher silently stood in shadow

   A bowed head with eyes closed

  As diamonds dropped below 

  It was not considered miraculous  

Not even registering a like 

 It was in reality quite awful  

 This Watcher in the night

   For only God could have sent 

  Such a one to true the scales 

  To make the hardened repent 

  To quiet the poor souls wails

   Afternoon showers came 

  The sun returned with the humid heat 

 But things were not the same

  And what of these diamonds under our feet? https://www.facebook.com/share/p/1CFCNjrAwu/?mibextid=wwXIfr

Olustee

In the end they finally came to me

Please please make Olustee lovely

Please No Southern flag to offend

Here is the way we want history written

No guns please they are offensive

Lovely ladies fine looking pensive

Make the colors pastel and dreamy

Better yet a soft glow foggy

It will better fit our inclusive theme

After all, everyone knows who won. 

In the old days of Olustee Festival, I did the cover of the program and even the city logo complete with a southern flag. In subsequent years, with Dufy and others taking over the covers, the theme became more and more watered down. This was written as a outcry to practically denying there was even a battle over in Olustee, not pretty.

Your own direction

 You know

You get to the point

Mostly around the first of February 

That you say

To Macclenny with those

Who like upon an eclipse

They don’t get it

Wonder why you’re not of the

Same version

On the same page

And you just mount your bike

And set out

In your own direction

What path?

 Following an inner insistence 

He took the path of most resistance

Third day

 And on the third day 

Johnclarestokes 

And on the third day, of the second week,

 God came walking

in the cool of the evening

And God said, I want me a mess of greens

And God said to the man, where is that

woman I gave thee?

And the man said, She’s got some cornbread

baking directly.

And God was pleased with the man and the woman.

Oh course, this was before they went fruit

picking.

Four corners

 Play the clock out

John Clare Stokes

In the old  hoop days there was 

nothing worse than being so 

near victory when the opposing

team would play the clock out,

keeping you from the ball.

The dreaded four corners 

This was before the twenty-four

second clock. 

And so you have chosen to

play the clock out on us.

What? 

Til we die and are gone?

What then?

You go on to the next opponent 

What a winning life you

are in.