Piet

 When ere I’d hear the name Mondrian 

I’d think of primary colors outlined in black

But then I found his flowers in the sun

And learned, artists are more than abstract. 

Piet Mondrian

Flowers Sun

1909

Imagine Paddling

 Imagine paddling

Johnclarestokes 

The secret to paddling

Is developing 

Not skill in sweeps

Or strength in strokes 

But suspension of destination

Drifting into imagination.

The Waccasassa River

site of the Wild Hog Canoe Race

Gulf Hammock

Pards

Lost in '64

Do you really want to become lost in old Florida? Once a year you have that opportunity at the Olustee Battle Re-enactment in Baker County at the Olustee State Park. While I have attended most of the 49 re-creations of the Confederate victory over Union forces intent upon bringing Florida under Federal control, for the past five years I have sought out a trio of North Carolina ruffians.

Usually I arrive as early as I can on Saturday and Sunday mornings, just when John Segale, Scott Baumgarner and John Chovis are putting eggs and sausage and other unknown additions into their frying pan. Donning DD beards long before they were the rave, these men annually transport me into the realm of 1864. But you must come early and take your time. If you are rushing about with the crowds trying to get a good seat at the battlefield, you will miss the real essence of being transported back.

This year(2014) the trio told of camping out at Gettysburg, when around dusk, with football field length openness on all sides of their camp, an officer comes walking down the hill, covered in soot, in search of three ladies.  "You seen three ladies in those hoop skirts?" the officer asks. They strike up a conversation and he says what company he is 'attached' to. Baumgarner, knowing his history, when he hears 'attached', knows that term used only back in the 1860's. When Segale wants to show him something from his tent, when he turns, the officer has disappeared. They described to the re-enactors of this officers regiment and not a man recognized him. They had spoken with one of the apparitions often seen at such events. I just enjoy standing on the perimeter of their camp, not being intrusive or interjecting my ignorance, learning from them. Seagle, the senior in the trio, runs a railroad museum in Cherryville, NC. He says too many Yankees are invading it lately. A gun collector, he said as a boy his daddy would set him on the hill from the still and if anyone approached, fire the double-barrel once, giving them time to break down the moonshine still.

They had a rough going this year getting to their camp, telling how they made a wrong turn down a wet Osceola Forest road and became stuck Friday evening. Scott hiked out, found a park service person who came with a wench and pulled them out.

"I may pull your vehicle apart", the ranger said. Chovis in his dry wit said, "Go ahead and pull her apart, I'll put her back together when we get out." Wonderful men, great humor balanced with a serious concern for the condition of our country 150 years later.

From left to right, posing with a history class from Orlando, John Segale, Scott Baumgarner and John Chovis.

I did not make this years battle getting over a stroke, and last year the trio weren’t in attendance. 2025.

Go take a leap

 Lovers take a leap

I grow so weary

of the lovers 

telling of their

Love for another

I sent a Valentines

to the former lover

I figured she could

Use some love you

Two have so much of

You won’t miss it

Falling

 In the night tossing

Turning upon the edge 

Catch me I'm falling

Falling toward the ledge

Waking to the floor

Who was that speaking 

 tossed wildly outdoor

The Camilla fading

Not your time, awake!

Who was that speaking

Another I shall take

Quiet as others weep

Sandhill softly

 Sandhill softly

Excited we heard before we saw

that deep felt call from the sky

Passing beneath the chicken cage

did the hens not say,

There must be more than eggs?

For my love

 Bouquet Boy knew his love adored the cats

Something made him recall geraniums too

They said an artist Renoir had just that

In 1881 he shared with those passing through.

It was worth the long trip back

Anything for his love and her cats

Geraniums and cats

Pierre Auguste Renoir

1881

Oreo

 Stokes gets in your eyes

Whenever someone to this day blows smoke up my ego, I think of mamma. Once a member of the church trying to impress mamma, told her I saw your son playing basketball, he’s so good,what was his number again?

It was obvious she never saw me play. Mamma simply said 21, my away ”white” jersey number.

In this photo, in case you don’t recognize me, I wore my number 20 home jersey.

Silent Yeats

 Silent Yeats

Johnclarestokes 

Last evening sitting beneath the heavens with Yeats

We had long silences and pauses between the 

Silence

When he spoke

Pity the poor who know not the poetry

Who must fill the silence with words

I sighed

Oh Yeats, must you too ruin the silence?

By the fire

 By the fire they were there

Johnclarestokes 

There seems to be

Some remnants of magic

In the old syrup kettle

For every time it's fired up

And the warmth is spread

The smoke ascends

It seems there are those

Descending around the glow

The embers are stoked

Without a poke from anyone

These days the kettle fires

In the cold

Are the only way they come.

Then sing the Sandhill

 Then sings the Sandhill 

In > formation upon > formation

Came the Sandhill, the currents taking

to far distant destinations

What to remember

 What to Remember

Author unknown

From the 40 poems found  in a ditch

Woman remembers the yearning, not the getting.

Man remembers the gift, not the giving.

Babe remembers the sucking, not the breast.

I remember the living, not the dead.

Tomb remembers the dead, not the living.

Governments count the fed, not the starving.

Child remembers the answer, not the calling.

Rain remembers the sky, not the falling.

Tide remembers the shore, not the rising.

I remember the living, not the dying.