Joanna Gilman Hyde

"Good Morning, World!"

Tag: existence

THE HAWK LIVING ROOM 8:45pm

I Rub My Eyes

I Am The Child

no longer fettered by toys

I had no favourites

as I do Now:

My Silver Pen

My Journals

They are My Tools

I threw a dolly

with a pin in her stomach

into a closet

and scratched out The Faces

of female dolls

in a print above My Bed–

leaving the Boy Clown alone

He Was My Friend

I use the trappings of fashion Now

to parade My Self around

to say I Am Here

This Is Where

I Belong

and I Can See

You

Through Adult Eyes

DAY TRIP TO HALIFAX

8:06am

I see a backwards rainbow

circling around the sun

My Adulthood is on a collision course

with My Childhood yet undone

 

 

I BESEECH YOU 7:22pm

“Stay With Me”

Stay With God

He Is All We Have Left

He Is Falling Away

&

 Needs Us

He Is Male & Female

Dark & Light

He Lives For Us

In What’s Left Of Our Mind

He Is Us

THE HAWK PORTICO 3:00pm

If I sit on The Portico

I can’t see My Laundry Line

but I can see a neighbour’s

with The Ocean in behind

the length of line is parallel

The Hanging Fabrics Flicker

They Catch My Eye

like a fire

as Wind Blows Through Them Quicker

THE HAWK RADIO 12:11pm

one time, only once

a long long time ago

I had a Shower of Silver Lights

like no excrement I know

It, The Shower, came

from The Bowels of Me

— or was It from My Head

as I was meant to see?

NOON ON THE HAWK DECK

I am Mrs Dr W Hunter Blair

I sit on My Deck

& write poetry

I dress for The Weather

& whatever else is going on

I listen to The Sheets & Towels

fluttering on the line

I listen to The Birds

The Waves

& whatever else is going on

I listen

I write

for Joanna Gilman Hyde

 

LITE VERSE

10:48am

I look at the water dazzle

& think of what to write

I’ve been with Hunter

thirteen years

& not without a fight

11:00am

I want to climb into bed

like A Child

& hold onto My Daddy’s Head

from here to infinity

wild

OK ‘cuz now He’s dead

11:22am

A Butterfly has inspected

Me

I don’t know where She’ll

Land

perhaps on Someone Else’s

Lips

or in a Friendship’s

Hand

ODE TO A BUG 8:22pm

Tell Me Fly

What Do You Know —

What Did You Buzz

to Emily?

Do You See All

Surreptitiously?

What Do You Hear

When You’re On

The Wall?

What Make Of You

Will You Find

To Fit

My Latest

Rumination?

Take Your Answers

& Fly Away

To Lead Us Further

In Revelation

CALL FROM ALBERTA 5:22pm

My Son just confirmed, echoed

I have a booming voice

“like no other”

Am I Gifted

or just loud in restaurants?

Do I Make Sense?

I am heard

through My Writing —

but when will I yell out

authoritatively

to Our World

for Our World

to Guide?

to Scold?

THE HAWK DECK 2:44pm

I suddenly feel older

by more than the fifteen years

since I dolefully reclined

in a wicker chaise longue

on the screened-in porch

built by My First Husband

— a porch sought for My Sanity —

yet used so briefly

I wonder how I remember it at all

This Deck I’m on now

in My Maturity

is an outpost for reverence

of All My Surroundings

occupied daily in good weather

and always in Good Mind:

I am healed now

— I long for nothing —

and have grown up

into The Full Observer

I was as The Child