Joanna Gilman Hyde

"Good Morning, World!"

Tag: poetry

REVERIE

The Hawk Kitchen 4:30pm

I am That Old Woman

positioned by Her Kitchen View

of Yard, Ocean, Sky

with a cat on Her Foot Stool

& no knitting in Her Lap

IRIDESCENT HEART

The Hawk Queen Bed 9:00am

I sit inside a purple room

the chamber of a heart

when I close My Eyes

I see iridescent purple

& decide Whose Heart

I’m in

I LOVE

The Hawk Kitchen 9:00pm

I sat or paced

in that place of unfavourable recollection

where My First Husband

tried to feed Me a sandwich

telling Me I couldn’t come home

until “this idea” was out

of My Mind —

This I dead Idea

evolved from that hell hole

to My Freedom of Writing

fifteen or twenty years

away from confinement

& starvation

I am able to write

I LOVE

PUNCTUATED LOSS

The Hawk Kitchen 5:40pm

I lost a hand made ring

of enamelled Silver

into the waves of The Jersey Shore

when I was 18

with My First And Only Boyfriend

Was It Silver going back to ore

as I told My Self

when I was 13 & lost

two Silver Bracelets

My Mother gave Me for Christmas?

What did I tell My Self

when I lost a hand made Silver-beaded earring

in the sand on Mc Nutt Island

when I was maybe 20

with a military man

whose name is long forgotten?

What do I tell My Self now

when I lose something

I might value

like a pair of crystal candlesticks

from My Mother’s Shakespeare House 

put away in one of the boxes

I took unopened to The Salvation Army?

NEW YEAR’S REALIZATION

The Hawk West Desk Window 3:00pm

YOU CANNOT CONSTRUCT

PROGRAMME, ORCHESTRATE, MAP OUT

FATE, DIVINITY

PORTRAIT

The Tomato-coloured Couch 8:25pm

She stood in Our Family Room

Entry Way

8 feet tall in platform pink stilettos

dark mini & worked-on hair

straight

asking for a ride

to the beginning of Her Partying

equipped with a little one-shot bottle

of Black Crown Royal

I gave Her with Her Roses

on Christmas Eve —

now It’s New Year’s

She’s out in The Wind

messing up Her Hair

as She climbs into My Escape

& climbs out at a Black Dodge Ram 1500:

Her Trophy Legs are all I can see

disappearing down Her Boyfriend’s Drive

2012 in review

The WordPress.com stats helper monkeys prepared a 2012 annual report for this blog.

Here’s an excerpt:

600 people reached the top of Mt. Everest in 2012. This blog got about 4,100 views in 2012. If every person who reached the top of Mt. Everest viewed this blog, it would have taken 7 years to get that many views.

Click here to see the complete report.

OUR LIVES ARE BASED ON PERCEPTION

The Hawk Hallway 4:00pm

What is that blasted wind

really trying to tell Me?

I went ahead and rowed

the programmed 22 minutes

and now Hunter is asleep

not feeling well enough

to go to the one party

We’ve been invited to

this season

It — The Wind — tells Me I won’t listen

to Anybody

but My Self

Where Am I Going?

What Am I Following?

My Heart getting gnawed apart

by a Silver-Black Crow

in the shape of a Little Man?

Yet I am grateful to Him

I Tell My Self I Love Him — OOOH That Wind

THE HAWK HALLWAY 12:30pm

Wind whistles through the cracks

at My Side Door

telling Me relentlessly

to stop living My Life

in This Mumbo Jumbo Fashion

of signifying moments

according to the alignment

of 22

like why should I keep

a New Year’s Resolution

to row 22 Minutes on My C2

when I wake up with a dream

of The Silver-Black Crow

dressed in a plaid shirt

& Me in a grey coat

hugging each other?

CAWS

The Tomato-coloured Couch 5:22pm

I Am The Silver-Black Crow

Eating My Heart Out

Pecking My Skull

“Let Me Out”

“Let Me Out”

Curl Up My Sleek Feathers

Gather My Dark Wings Together

Like Hands In Prayer

“Away With Me”

“Away”