Joanna Gilman Hyde

"Good Morning, World!"


“Astro, who was that man?”

Who was that man I met in the library

in Meteghan?

That man who took me

to Sip Cafe

and held my hand

saying he was 500 years old?

He smelled of wood smoke

like my son

and kissed my hairband

when I asked if he was married.

“Astro, who was that man?”

Who took me to Halifax

for Valentine’s Day

to eat chicken Spanakopita

to contemplate skating

when we said we were from Digby


I in my long white fake fur coat

and long red sparkly scarf


he in his black Columbia

worn for the first time

a daughter’s gift

“Astro, who was that man?”

Who read my essay on Jealousy

and brushed my hair

and looked at me with reverence?

We walked the beach

when we got home

bundled up

and I darned his sock

and fixed the snags

in his Irish dark blue sweater

the colour of his eyes.

“Astro, who was he?”


Eye sit beside a cold grey sea

anchored by my cup of tea

Alone I am — but eye don’t care

for now my life is free

Where I Am Today

My brother never saw

the house I’m living in,

neither did my mother.

They both died

too early in my life

when I was with another

set of circumstance

calling me to strife —

First the father of my 3

rejected for the other

husband whom I no longer have

rejected for a lover

in my mind and in my heart

but he is gone through time

why bother to count those years

now my life is mine.

A Morning Poem

Instead of waking

to my former husband’s kissable head

I looked to a sky of gold and pink

and to the spruce of our first snow

this winter, and I reached

for my phone

to review the end

of Self Organizing Galaxy —

my painting of blue and purple

yellow and red

I watched my face

of 23 years

then got out of bed

to wash it now

and brush my hair —

my cat wants to be fed

Male Order Man

Eye have a soldier in my pocket

on a secret mission to my heart

he thinks he’s “met” me

on a dating site —

we text and text

while we’re apart.

His eyes I like

His smile true

His photo’s got me caught —

He’s from the South

with a mother dead

His story I’ve completely bought

Watch “9/11 Prophetic WTC Rooftop Painting by Joanna Gilman Hyde” on YouTube


Eye am comforted

by my dreams:

one of my blue-eyed daughter

baby toddler

asleep in my arms

as I sat

and one of my long-dead Dad

cradling me

in his big lap

Contemporary Work

Eye am alone

with my art —

shall it be Lurid Green

and Pristine Red

or the suptle metallic golds

and coppers

with Silver

emerging from the mass

of disposed can lids?

January 1st

Eye stood on My Deck

to salute the first sun

of Our New Year

Eye am single now

alone with five cats

but there are some advantages

to this state

Hmmm let me think of one…

Ryan King’s Birthday

In the stillness Eye write

standing on my deck

with opaque sun

and distant waves


to the dappled bird calls

heralding this new morning