Joanna Gilman Hyde

"Good Morning, World!"

Category: Uncategorized

The Veterinarian

Once a man from England

Brought me a cup of tea

As I woke in a farmer’s guest bed

And I wrote the Englishman’s wife

A letter upon his sudden death

In a head on collision

Telling her nothing happened

There Is No Such Thing As Creation

Where did the onion

In all its variety

Come from?

In all its layers

With paper, paper protection

Where and how did our sublime



Answer:  It has always existed

And always will

In one form or another


Boy I want to dance

To Moonlight Sanata dressed



Winter Afternoon

I am happy here —

Sun filling my eyes and house

Black cat on my lap


This Morning

Watched the sun rise twice

First from ocean horizon

Then from narrow clouds

Air Show

Flock of geese honking

Overhead to where? To me

My flight of music

Hitting On My Dream

The man of my dream

Has hair the colour

Of this month’s roadside

Tree stalks and shrubbery

Sandy cinnamon red

Driven through

In afternoon sun

As I set out to find him:

The engineer for my art

My giant Canadian maple leaf


Would Eye like

a Younger Man?

Someone from My Children’s Generation

or does age really matter?

Last night I dreampt

of a dark-haired, bright-eyed gentleman

who held My Hand in an open carriage

and kissed the back of it

each time He said something


The Cottage

Eye have had My Fill

of wedding rings

& long black hairs

dislodged from corners,

bed & bath

The man is Mine —

if He is a Man —

and I cannot live

the single life

Breathing Deeply

What is the significance

of the smell of a worn tee shirt

worn one night

by an estranged husband?

The smell of comfort?


The smell of sex?


The smell of age?


The smell of possession?