John Clare Stokes
There she was
The near teen infant
Still so darling
In the parents sight
Running rough shod
Over them
Harassing the yard animals
To near death
And it was precious
In their sight
There the two terrible twos
Were
In adult conversation
With mom
Pitching all their
Temper tantrums
Mom being sent to her
Room
For giving in
The umteenth time
And there was the
Grandmother
Pleading with the little
Grand baby
Please obey
Please obey
Granny don't want
To go to her room too.
They tell of the doting over her
In hall closets hanging
The lace and crinoline
Forever to daddy
The little princess reigning.
Hunters coat the father
Gave the son who gave
The son
With the 4-10 gun the
Father gave the son
Who gave the son
The trio set out in the
Cold Wakulla morning
The son following the
Son and the father
Quietly looking for any
Sign or sound of game
Even then recording the scene
For the son knew this
Would never come again
And he wanted something
To remember the time.
Annette
Annette of Sopchoppy
I was too young for my sisters party
But today Annette
I'm old enough to attend
But the home is gone
Even George Trice
I think has died
And can't attend.
Johnclarestokes
Moccasin slid silently along beside
limpid-eyed hare struck a frozen pose
lanky-legged raccoon hastened stride
from this foe they so know.
Came a man laden down
in shadow the slithering snake
blood of Cain crying from the ground
on his calf the fangs did partake.
Hare on the lush green grass fed
Raccoon washed his meal that night
for the man, taking the poison bled
as Moccasin recoiled at the bitter bite.
In the darkness dwells a man slayer
his sting of death for all meant
the creatures marvel this redeemer
man with the potion heavenly sent.
John Clare Stokes
What was it like
To be a Pappa?
Did Mary let you
Often hold Him?
Did you take Him
For walks along
The Galilee shores?
That time He was
Left at the Temple
Did you get onto
Joseph?
Did He cry the last
Time you saw Him?
Did He ask to stay
Awhile longer with
Pappa Heli?
I know it must have
Broke your heart
To lose Him so early
At just thirty-three.
Luke 3:23
I often speculate upon Heli, Joseph’s father, Jesus grandfather, and if he had any part in Jesus life.
Holding Nathaniel , my grandson, for the first time at Lake Shore Hospital.
John Clare Stokes
When before I turned ten in Sopchoppy, I took the John Wesley bust from the shelf in my fathers parsonage office and began to dance around the house with him. I think my sister may have been dancing with the other, Charles, but needless to say, I dropped John, breaking him in many pieces.
I do not recall getting a whipping, I’m sure I did, but I do recall my father meticulously glueing back Wesley, until you could hardly tell he took a fall.
And so the Wesley’s went with us through the years unscathed upon the various shelves, to finally dwell in our Lake City home.
And so this Fathers Day morning, I found myself in the back shed, attempting to mend an old rake long broken. Among the old tools, there was much contemplating upon my father and his passing along to me that desire to restore, to mend, to up purpose as a friend likes to share.
And then there is that same desire my father had as a Pastor to mend, to restore to want lives of loved ones to find their up purpose.
Will the old rake work? Will Wesley find a shelf when I’m gone? Will a son find home? Until then, I mend.
by john clare
She lures me to her tamed embrace
Pungent aromas wafting over once wild ways
Civility feigned in her tolerance of the Muscovy
Far cries from the gathering of the Timucuan
Dugouts arriving to her unsettled banks
Drunk upon the black emetic around ceremonial
fires circling to face General Gaines invading warriors.
Ever so often a shaft hurls from the sky
As another fledgling Muscovy flies
Not from its own will
But in the clutch of the sreaming talons uncivil
Lady Isabella politely bows and nods
Pleased with the appeasing of her God.
Tears of Gray Upon first seeing where pappy lay, It was too overwhelming, The lineage of the Blue and the Gray, Blue and Gray blood and tears always mingling. This photograph is of James Rourks, Attendandt to Col.Bowman of the Department of the Gulf at the Olustee Battle. Rourks saw for the first time his grandfathers grave, Irving Cason from WW1 and was overcome. It took an honorable mention at the West Library Show last evening.
And my bend is to run
But I turn
And face them
Just to know the punch
Of a power beyond
Comprehension
