Joan Ryder-Healey - A lifetime in verse

Joan Ryder Healey

A lifetime in verse

A GARDEN LONG AGO

Heliotrope! and the memory of my father,
that gentle soul with his musician's hands,
sprinkling salt on snails that dared attack his garden
and laughing as he watched their dying fizz.
A contradiction so it seemed, and over all
the sweet vanilla smell of Heliotrope.
The picture has not faded with the years,
I see that garden still, my father there
tending plants, exterminating snails.
Watching, I would feel a pang of pity,
child though I was, the future yet unknown;
but time would show that when it comes to war
the gentle will turn ruthless just as he.

Joan Ryder Healey 2001

A TERRIBLE BEAUTY

Dorothea Mackellar told it all;
the beauty and the terror of this land,
starkness of the outback, red and raw
patterned drought-dried earth
like monstrous jigsaw puzzle Nature made.
Our coastline's massive cliffs and surging seas
have witnessed helpless ships sink to their doom
and yet an artist's eye sees beauty there.
Damp lushness of rain forests, old in time,
smelling of earth and untold mystery;
the Flinders Ranges with their terrible beauty,
ancient, stark and brooding,
holding, who knows what stories over time,
ever-changing as the seasons pass
yet still the same.

Joan Ryder- Healey

ANATOMY OF A SLEEPLESS NIGHT

Weary-eyed and tired to the bone
I yearn to cast my form on laundered sheets
that wait invitingly.
Lights out, I stretch and wait for blessed sleep.
But sadly, now my mind has taken charge
And memories come surging to the fore;
faces, long forgotten, press for recognition,
old regrets are suffered yet again.
I count the hours `til vigilant alarm
will sound its shrill insistence, then
I toss and turn once more.

A line of poetry takes form, grows into shape;
so I must face the choice; to rise,
grasp pen and paper, jot those phrases down
or try to sleep and trust they will remain
in memory's doubtful care until I wake.
My muse so seldom visits I must seize
the moment, stumble from my bed
and bleary-eyed dash down those precious words,
so fine so strong
until the morning light should prove me wrong.

Joan Ryder Healey 2005

ANN

Eight years or so since it began
A group of poets still convene;
We've shared great poetry with Ann.

Our numbers vary; woman, man,
And change of faces we have seen
Eight years or so since it began.

We've strived to make our verses scan,
Heroic efforts some have been!
We've shared great poetry with Ann.

Well-known and lesser poets can
Still charm our group, though numbers lean
Eight years or so since it began.

Dear Ann presides with such elan
Her calm, wise comments set the scene;
We've shared great poetry with Ann.

In all the meetings that she ran
She kept the magic evergreen.
Eight years or so since it began
We've shared great poetry with Ann.!

Joan Ryder Healey 2006

FRIENDSHIP

How young we were in recollection's gaze,
Untried, untested still the way ahead.
The future beckoned in a golden haze.

We thought as one in those dim, distant days
Our friendship strong, imaginations fed,
How young we were in recollection's gaze.

Our poems sang of love and all its ways
We wrote and dreamed about the path we'd tread
The future beckoned in a golden haze.

How could we know that life could be a maze
Where down wrong steps our foolish feet were led?
How young we were in recollections gaze

But through each twist and turn, each painful phase
We battled on although our hopes were shed
The future beckoned in a golden haze.

So now to Friendship let our glasses raise
You were my strength when all my dreams seemed dead.
How young we were! In recollection's gaze
The future beckoned in a golden haze

Joan Ryder Healey 2009

BY ANY OTHER NAME

Pulchritude! Now that's a name
Sounds nothing like its meaning.
My lady would be sore dismayed if I
Described her beauty so.
A Rose by any other name, the bard has said,
Would smell as sweet;
But if pulchritude is beauty's other name
The perfume is forever lost.
How could this ugly name
Describe perfection?
Oh, Keats, would you have written,
All those years ago,
"A thing of pulchritude is a joy forever"?
Oh, never, never!

Joan Ryder Healey 2006

BELLE OF THE BALL

She thinks his snow-white hair is so distinguished
enjoys the gifts a wealthy man bestows;
considers marriage.
Entering the ballroom on his arm
she manages the ruffles of her gown
with expertise;
gold taffeta and lace in rich cascade,
a matching fan and ribbons in her hair.

Across the room a pair of eyes meet hers.
A handsome stranger holds her gaze and smiles
and somewhere in her venal heart there stirs
a vague unrest, a glimpse
of something life might hold
more precious than the luxury of wealth.
But now the music starts
and she must dance,
and love will never trouble her again.

Joan Ryder Healey 2005

AUTUMN VILANELLE

When Autumn's russet leaves go brown and fall
And memory of Summer fades away
Those other mellow days I will recall.

The days when we were young and love was all!
Our hopes were high we'd love again one day
When Autumn's russet leaves go brown and fall.

Thus I made my promise, held in thrall
By high romance and certain, come what may,
Those other mellow days I will recall.

So time went on. I met a soldier tall
Whose kisses made my resolution sway
When Autumn's russet leaves go brown and fall.

But now his manly charms begin to pall
And as the evening turns to leaden grey
Those other mellow days I will recall.

Oh, long-lost love, I should have heard your call
Too late, I know regret will have its say.
When Autumn's russet leaves go brown and fall
Those other mellow days I will recall.

Joan Ryder Healey 2005

COLDCLAY

I sculpt this woman's shape,
curves and hollows that I know so well -
knew so well!
Now memory lends magic to my hands
in mute caress.
Was it by chance or by your cruel design
I heard you moan and sigh your lover's name -
not mine, not mine,
while I lay wide awake and watched you sleep?
I mould this cooling clay,
I fashion it, create
an image of your faithless form;
mute symbol of an unrequited love.

Joan Ryder Healey 2006

AT THE BUS SHELTER

The people in the house across the road
had built a wall;
a high, forbidding wall of darkest brick
to keep out traffic noise. No glimpse
of house or any garden could be seen.
But as the months went by
a strip of earth was dug, a garden made
outside that tall, unfriendly looking fence.
And now great swathes of roses riot there,
spilling their pink and yellow down the bricks
in prodigal profusion,
summer flowers blazing at their feet.
I am grateful for the pleasant start
this gardener has given to my day
as I sit waiting for my laggard bus.

Joan Ryder Healey 2006

ARTIFICIAL ROSES

Two bowls of artificial roses grace the room.
She is quite content to have it so
although her garden glows with perfect blooms
fragrant, tender-petalled and alive!\
They only last a few days in the house,
it's hardly worth the effort " she explains,
"Besides they drop their petals, make a mess."
So , these soulless substitutes can gather dust
while lovely blossoms perish undisplayed

She lives alone, long-widowed I am told
and had no children to disturb her peace,
while I, with grandchild's hobbies
littering the floor,
would never wish to change her pristine rooms
for my disordered cottage, warm with love
and fragrance from fresh flowers in a bowl.

Joan Ryder Healey 2006

CURMUDGEON

Woollen cap jammed firmly over ears
the shambling figure of a man I call
the old curmudgeon
lives two doors away.

He never speaks or smiles,
eye contact nil. He comes and goes,
his shoulders humped against the chill
or keeping out the world.

I have no reason to dislike the man,
it is a fault in me. I criticize
but make no effort , no attempt to breach
the barrier of reserve.

Underneath that surly, rough veneer
may be a lonely man with inward pain
and with the right approach may well respond
to friendly overtures.

But who would be the first to look away -
the old curmudgeon or
an introvert like me?

Joan Ryder Healey 2008

ASHES

Tonight your letters feed the flames
With words of love and last year's dream.
I watch the pages wist and writhe
As there like tortured things they seem.

With pity faintly stirs my heart,
And as I watch it seems so strange
That of our love remains but ash,
So suddenly a heart can change

Joan Ryder 1934

TO MARY GILMORE

One cannot tell this woman
Of one's love,
But in a little way with strive to show
The glowing tenderness
One feels within,
And so
Pink oleanders, almond scented,
Sweet,
One brings for love of her.

Joan Ryder 1934

DESTROYER

It was a moth with velvet wing
And now is but a poor crushed thing!
The petals of a crimson rose
Are bruised, its life is at a close,
And love's sweet, wistful tenderness
Was stifled by my eagerness
Oh, greedy wilful heart of me
Behold thy fruits and weep to see
Beneath a silent, tranquil moon
Three fragile things that died too soon.

Joan Ryder 1934

FAÇADE

What would happen if we abraded the veneer
That shelters us, the bright façade
we flaunted to the outside world, the face
that hid emotions seething deep within?

What would happen if we really told our thoughts,
unvarnished truths that each of us conceal
for fear we would be judged.

Deception is an easy game to play.
We mouth our platitudes with practiced ease
to mount a pleasant front.
Craving approbation, giving no offence
for smiling always makes more friends than frowns.

Joan Ryder Healey 2008

FAIRY GODMOTHERS

Those of the above persuasion
Not needed now on this occasion;
Forget the gifts they would endow
Genes are all that matter now.
May this child avoid possession
Of Uncle Alec's odd obsession'
Save her from Aunt Hilda's vice -
For little girls it isn't nice!
In years to come, dear child, rejoice
If spared your Granny's raucous voice.
Your Daddy's temper isn't pretty
And Grandpa's drinking - such a pity
All attempts at re-hab fail!
May your good genes all prevail
And you will avoid the curse
Of writing truly awful verse.
I must admit I would not mind
Godmothers of the fairy kind
Exerting force by any means
To save you from the family genes!

Joan Ryder Healey 2006

D EN IS E

A daughter is the gift you gave yourself
The day you gave the gift of life to her.
The tiny, helpless baby in your arms
Who needed all the care you could confer
Is now a woman, helpmate, caring friend
Repaying anxious fears of bygone days
All mothers suffer through the childhood years;
The sleepless nights, the worry as each phase
Of growing up is reached and in the past,
By being here for you - a woman who
Can understand your needs and share your fears;
Has travelled life's uncertain pathway too!
Anticipating everything you need
A daughter is a blessed gift indeed.

Joan Ryder Healey

FOR I WAS BLIND

Dear, I was blind until you took my hand
Showed me beauty, made me understand
The loveliness that God on earth had planned!

I learned to love each pansy's velvet face,
The poppy's slender suppleness and grace,
The pepperina's foliage of lace.

I knew the brightness of the pollen gold
I heard the secrets that the wind sprites told,
I saw the glory in a petal's fold.

My eyes were opened to a wonderland!
I thank God that you made me understand
For I was blind until you took my hand.

Joan Ryder Healey

GIFTS

How sweet I find the company of friends
Conversation and warm laughter that we share
lightening cares and forging stronger bonds.

How wonderful is music on the ear!
Seductive, soothing, balm for troubled hearts
or rousing passions with its urgent beat.

How lovely is the landscape to the eye,
with vibrant colours of the flowering trees,
soft clouds and grey-green smudge of distant hills.

How fortunate that I can feel and hear and see!
Ears, eyes and heart well satisfied it seems
and thankful for the gifts that life bestows.

© Joan Ryder Healey 2006

GROOK

Girls with low-slung jeans in Sydney
Run the risk of cold in kidney.
Six-inch band if flesh is flaunted,
Plumper rivals thus are taunted;
Get revenge by means unsubtle,
Bare their cleavage in rebuttal!

Joan Ryder Healey 2006

IMAGE

The mirror must be flawed!
I do not know this stranger who
stares back at me,
a woman full of years whose face
is etched with lines of discontent
like crazing on a well-used dinner plate.
I thought to see a girl with eager eyes
fixed on far horizons
with dreams of happy-ever-after
coming true.
She lived inside me, hopeful to the last
that life would send the roses
minus thorns.
I cannot see the girl reflected here -
that woman gazes back.
I shut my eyes.
Oh, tell me! Is the mirror flawed?

KATE

Kate, we feel your presence with us still -
You were too vital and alive to fade away!
Our memories are with us constantly,
Some little thing reminds us every day.

Your warmth and kindness treasured in our hearts,
That independent spirit and your views
So strongly held and not afraid to voice,
The ears so ready to receive our news.

Your laughter and the friendships that you shared;
So many people proud to call you friend;
Dependable and caring, brave and strong,
True to your convictions to the end!

You were the linchpin of our little group,
So sadly missed. But let us not repine,
We'll drink a toast to one who graced our lives.
"To Kate," we'll say "Unique!" and pour the wine.

Joan Ryder Healey 2007

KOOKABURRA HAIKU

1.
Kookaburra Peers
studying the offerings
cast upon the grass .

11.
Kookaburra sees
Magpie interloper near
hesitates no more.

111.
Kookaburra glides
swoops upon the minced-up meat
gobbles swiftly down.

1v.
Kookaburra knows
woman watches while he dines
lesser birds look on.

v.
Kookaburra laughs
vaunting his ascendancy
over weaker birds.

v1.
Kookaburra flies
watching woman goes inside
homage duly given.

Joan Ryder Healey 2006

LAGERSTROEMIA

Plumes of crinkled-paper petals,
Summer's darling - Lagerstroemia!
Other-named Crepe Myrtle by the people who
are devotees of her abundant charms,
shades of pink and mauve and white
in glorious profusion.
How blessed we are to have these flowering trees!
In every season they are there
for our delight.
Tibouchina with its purple bounty
gladdens Autumn,
Poinsettia's crimson offsets Winter's grey
while Jacaranda's mauve-blue bells
have captured Spring.
Each in their turn bring colour to the scene;
a tonic for the city-weary heart.

Joan Ryder Healey 2006

LAMENT

The crows must have known!
All morning they have made their mournful dole.
"See you in an hour!" laughingly you said -
Now you are dead.
You who were my future and my past
Lost to me at last.
The sun is shining still and the scent
Of flowers fills the air.
You are not there, you are not there.
Those crows, black-visaged crows
They surely must have known!
Their harshest a-arking cannot sound more drear,
It echoes, echoes, echoes in my ear.

FULL CIRCLE

There was a time he was the little child,
I, the mother, holding fast his hand
as busy road was crossed,
helping him down steps; alert
for any perils standing in his way. .
Guiding him with love.

But time has flown, it seems
on rapid wings
and life has come full circle.
Now I find the child become a man
who sees my aging, who, when we
cross a road, holds tight my hand,
helps me down the steps
lest I should stumble;
guiding me with love.

THE POEM

If I cloak my words in ambiguity
make it so hard to understand
you must read it over
several times
to tease out any meaning;
if I include those vulgar words
scratched on alley walls and meant to shock,
what shall I call it then-
a modern poem?

LAMENT FOR ICARUS

Oh, Icarus! how great and tragic was your fall!
The massive feathered wings
a crumpled bed to hold your broken form.
But the joy, exhilaration, as you soared
triumphant skyward 'til the traitor sun
undid your noble plan. Was that enough?
The lovely nymphs who mourn untimely death
with loud lament have held you tenderly .
Oh, would that we, with our ambitious plans
that soar and fall and perish over time
could find such comfort
from so sweet a source!

Joan Ryder Healey 2005

LIGHT OF HEART

Whence this light-heartedness
this feeling of well-being
sweet content?
It cannot be the weather, for the day is cold and overcast
and scudding showers rat-a-tat
against the window pane.
Sodden roses in my garden swing and sway
with every gust of wind
but I am warm indoors and music
plies again its slow seduction.
Today I wrote a letter to a friend evoking happy memories
and in this soft, nostalgic mood
I wrote some poetry!
The weather rages wet and chill outside
but I am warm and snug
and light of heart.

Joan Ryder Healey 2005

LOVE

Love can be a gladsome thing
A glance, a smile, a singing thing,
O love can be a tender thing
When we are very young, Tra-la

Love can be a heady thing,
A passionate, unsteady thing,
A volatile, enraptured thing
When we are in our prime. Tra-la

Love can be a mellow thing,
A tune played on a cello thing,
An Ovaltine at bedtime thing
When we are growing old, Tra-la tra-la

Joan Ryder Healey 2007

MIGRANT WOMAN

I am not deaf, they do not have to shout -
It is their tongue I do not comprehend.
My next-door neighbour brightly smiles, then turns
For fear that I would seek to make her friend.

She holds my gift of roses in her hand
But has no time to wait and meet my eye
While unaccustomed syllables I force
Through stiff and anxious lips trail off and die.

The hours hang long and lonely as I work,
The house and garden orderly and neat -
But, Oh! the isolation eats my soul
Until there comes the sound of flying feet.

My children, home from school, stream through the door
And all the pent emotions of the day
Burst out from me in one swift gush of words -
They fidget, "Speak in English, Mum," they say.

© Joan Ryder Healey.

NANCY

"Nancy with the laughing face"
Was Frank Sinatra's song,
But Nancy Collins is the one
To whom it should belong!
Her many friends throughout the world
Can testify to this,
For laughter and good company
Are her idea of bliss.
Her sewing skills have made her sure
To stay ahead in fashion
Though music means so much to her
And still remains her passion.
But talk and laughter are the foods
That nourish her the most
So, Nancy with the laughing face
We drink to you our toast!

PATTERSON'S CURSE

Flaunting my purple garments now
they call me wanton,
disgracing the family with my wilful ways.
Patterson's curse they call me,
death to decency, and yet
although I spread my favours far and wide,
in another place, far from their searing scorn,
some love-starved citizens have changed my name,
have welcomed me and hail
Salvation Jane,

Joan Ryder Healey 2009

NON-HEARING AIDS

I care that I must wear
Lumps of metal tucked inside each ear
So I may hear.

The creatures hiss and much I miss,
As conversation flows
My isolation grows.

I strain to hear each murmured word
And learn to smile at jokes unheard,
People sigh as I reply
"What did he say?" most every day

Stranded on the island of the deaf, Oh my!
I cannot hear the question to reply.
Oh, how I care that I must wear
These useless lumps of metal neath my hair.

I cannot catch inconsequential chatter
And miss the thoughts abroad that really matter!

Joan Ryder Healey 2009

PIGEON

Wary-eyed, your rhythmic, nodding head
alert for crumbs, the sun
has brought to life the iridescent colours
on your vaunted breast.
With measured strut you now proclaim
your domination of the pigeon flock
so busy scavenging along the path.
Your throaty cooing challenges the sound
of wind and breaking waves
upon the shore.
A female, stabbing at a tasty crust
casts nervous glances at your bold advance
until a vagrant dog comes charging down,
pursuer and pursued sent on their way.
With whirring wings
the pigeons all have flown,
but not for long;
undeterred, we know they will return.

Joan Ryder Healey 2006

PLEA

Now Ann is back so hear my plea,
Poetic muse come visit me!
No inspiration comes my way,
I cannot find the words today.
The reason why I can't explain --
Has age done something to my brain?
It really makes me very terse
I cannot write one line of verse!
Come, Ann, and wield your magic touch.
I need your guidance Oh so much.

Joan Ryder Healey

PRAYER OF A MOTHER

I have in my keeping the heart of a child;
God, give me the strength to be true to my trust,
To help and encourage when confidence wanes.
To love and protect, yet be strict when I must!

I have in my keeping the mind of a child;
O God, give me wisdom to know what to teach;
How much to withhold and how much to impart ,
Thy pardon when failing, I humbly beseech.

Joan Ryder Healey.

PRETTY LITTLE CAT

My pretty little cat with topaz eyes
A coat of softest, ink-black, silken fur,
Her gaze is like the Sphinx, all-seeing, wise.

But here she sits in modern, mortal guise
Although in servant mode I tend to her
My pretty little cat with topaz eyes.

As tasty treats to tempt her I devise
I seek to hear a thankful sound occur -
Her gaze is like the Sphinx, all-seeing, wise.

Oh, sad to see a woman cut to size,
So happy when the creature deigns to purr,
My pretty little cat with topaz eyes.

She knows full well where my devotion lies
So oft did I my love for her aver.
Her gaze is like the Sphinx, all-seeing, wise.

Past lovers all, Oh hear when I advise
I know the times you may have wished you were
My pretty little cat with topaz eyes.!
Her gaze is like the Sphinx, all-seeing, wise.

RESOLVE

I was taught a little prayer when I was young.
Honesty compels me to admit I parroted the words.
I asked my God to "pardon my simplicity"
Not understanding what the big word meant.
If only Life was simple, now I sigh
And then resolve I must stop looking back
Reliving past events!
Nothing can change the past, I must live today
Content with all the present has to give;
The simple pleasures that enrich my life.
Soothing voice of music , flowers all ablaze,
The benison of sunshine, talk and laughter,
A world of books and poetry,
The company of friends
And those I love.

Joan Ryder Healey 2006

SHOWTIME

In the darkened theatre eyes are drawn
to smiling, dancing girls on centre stage,
("Eyes and teeth, girls. Eyes and teeth!")
the ballet mistress schooled them,
brilliant costumes, row of slender legs
lifted in precision to the beat,
the strong , insistent rhythm of the music..

But my eyes are fixed on orchestra below
from whence the sound has come
and loving pride
wraps me round like a warm blanket
as I watch my father's hands
fly over ivory keys.

Leader of the band,arranging all the music,
this unassuming man -
this clever fine musician!
I watch him through a mist of tears
so proud, so glad am I
to be his daughter.

Joan Ryder Healey 2008

SONGS

Annoyingly, those half-heard songs on radio
Have burrowed in my brain, stirred memories
I laid to sleep so many moons ago;
Bitter-sweet reminders of a first love unexpressed,
Unconsummated, doomed it seems to fail.
We were so young, made all the wrong replies -
Always at cross purposes our paths diverged.

I wrote so many poems in those days,
Setting out my woes in anguished rhyme
With curses for the clock whose smug, white face
Had indicated hours we did not share.
Oh! It was all so long ago, so very long ago .

Those songs we sang around the pianola
"Try A Little Tenderness" was one,
They play them on the radio at times, then
Nostalgia has me in its painful grip.
But, Ah! It was all so very long ago .

Joan Ryder Healey 2006

SURF

How I loved the surge of foaming surf -
to pit my puny self against its might
and feel the bracing salt-sting on my flesh,
holding fast against retreating waves
that suck and swirl while sand is churned
beneath unbalanced feet.

Somewhere along the years a change took
place,
it all seemed too much trouble for a swim;
taking time to carefully apply
the sun-protecting cream,
shampoo and set the hair so thick with ocean
salt.

So now I have no strength to battle waves,
am just another Grandma on the shore
paddling in the shallows, grateful for
the chance to soak my feet
in cooling foam..

Joan Ryder Healey

SWAN SONG

She has written all that she has wanted to write,
said all she wanted to say,
done all she wanted to do -
and she is tired, very tired.
Looking back across the stretch of years
there were high points
and there were low,
but always there was family.
For all their flaws
they were hers
and she had loved them,
deeply, devotedly.
Not ever one to show her feelings
she wonders if they really know
how much she cared;
so she will write another little verse
before it is too late
to let them know
they were her life.

Joan Ryder Healey 2006.

TANKA WOES

My friend if you should hanker
To write a perfect tanka
Be prepared to moan and curse
It's not like any other verse

Syllables of thirty-one
Five lines and the job is done
Think again for less is more
So pare it down a daunting chore.

Get to work and count the cost
With each change some meaning lost.
Give me a glimpse of old Japan
Help me write one if you can.

Floral season
chasing winter's gloom
rejuvenates
prunus blossoms tender pink
drip petals like confetti.

Bright winter stars
shine on stagnant pool
white moth hovers
foolish creature lift your eyes
or drown in stars' reflection.

TANKAS

Spring rejuvenates
gives zest and colour to the land
ending Winter's grip
I will fly a kite today
To celebrate her coming.

Blossoms in her hair
sweet Spring weaves yearly magic
chases Winter gloom
apple blossom's tender pink
drip petals on the pavement

Hunted over years
awesome in their majesty
hail the mighty whale.
let them hang their heads in shame
who kill this ocean titan.

Vivid lorikeet
with your many-coloured coat
recalling Joseph
and his brothers' jealous rage
in bible's age-old story.

Sizzling sun beats down
Summer at her steamy best.
The seaside beckons
Oh! the blissful cooling waves
if I could only reach them.

Caterpillar hides
curled up underneath the mint
thinks he is unseen.
I will pluck him out and so
one less butterfly will live.

As a broken toy
that gave a child such pleasure
is now discarded
so the love I felt for you
has gone beyond the mending.

Perfume like a drug
has overcome my senses
all I see is you
glimmering pale and lovely
holding white gardenias

Joan Ryder Healey 2008

More TANKAS

Golden Autumn moon
shows the mound of crackling leaves
swept into a heap
I go back to my childhood
send them skyward with one kick

Tibouchina glows
richly purple opulence
blooming all around.
Royal colour shines for those
who humbly pay her homage.

Winter rain sheets down
it darkens all my spirit
chills me icy cold
how long it seems to Summer
with sun to melt my grieving.

Winter stars shine bright
a white moth flutters, exquisite
over stagnant pool
foolish creature lift your eyes
or drown in stars' reflection.

Joan Ryder Healey 2008

THE BOND

When first I saw you, with that fuzzy
baby hair standing straight on end,
("Like Leopold Stowkowsky!' said
the attendant nurse,)
a boy child, not the daughter I expected,
I felt the first stirrings of that love
that grips me still.
I made mistakes through inexperience
but it was strange territory for one
who had no brothers.
Forgive me those; you have a son yourself
and know the perilous path.
You and I, through Life's vicissitudes
still share a bond that grows in strength
and never will be broken,
the age-old love between
a mother and her son.

Joan Ryder Healey 1999

THE CALLER

I have a caller comes to me late afternoon.
Importunate fellow!
Impatiently, he raps my windowpane
to capture my attention.
At first, I know, it really was my fault
for giving him encouragement, but I
was dazzled by his dignified good looks;
that tantalising hauteur won my heart
and I surrendered willingly.
I gave him all I had to give and yet
it seems it still was not enough
and weakly I submit to his return.
Oh, lordly Kookaburra, constant visitor,
imperious and lovely in your dignity,
you take my offerings of food with such aplomb
and I am left the richer for your visits

Joan Ryder Healey