Joan Ryder-Healey - A lifetime in verse

THE CLEVER POET

She is a clever poet,
Rolls her words with practiced ease
Upon the page;
Higher education evident in her allusions.

Still I am not satisfied.

Where are the lush and lovely cadences
To linger and to savour, to enjoy
Like precious vintage wine upon the tongue?
Her appeal is to the mind
And not the heart.

But who am I to judge?
She is the critic's darling and is it envy
That impels my sour view?
I know only that her words invoke in me
No empathy, no sharing of like thoughts;
No sisterhood in poetry.

Joan Ryder Healey 2007

THE PARTNER

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.

THE QUESTION

A Sunday School picnic
and my mother, when young,
asked the minister, "What is sin?"
The sun warmed them as he,
seeking for words, lifted a stone
and grey ugly insects swarmed
out of the damp, cool sanctuary.
He said that they had been living
in darkness and shunned the light
just as sinners shunned
the light of God.
Now, when she lifts a flowerpot
and sees the woodlice run,
she whispers
"Sinners!"

Joan Ryder Healey 1998

THE SINGING DAY

This is a singing day and so I hum
the tune I heard on radio today
extraneous noise a lover called it once
long, long ago!
The clouds that gathered earlier are gone
and all the sky above is blue and clear;
cold winter has witheld its early claim
and autumn flaunts its glory in farewell.
The yellow wattle's heavy-laden boughs
shine brilliant gold beneath the sun's caress,
while crimson berried tree is hosting birds
who, taking wing, take with them all my woes.
This is a singing day and I shall sing;
there is no lover left to criticise.

Joan Ryder Healey 2008

THE TRYST

I thought I saw a flash of scarlet
in the colonnade of trees
stretching over yonder, stark and straight
beneath a waning moon.
A lazy breeze has stirred the jasmine too;
its scent intoxicates,
stirs the senses with its potency - lends
soft enchantment as I watch and hope.

Will I find her waiting once again -
is that her gown so red I glimpsed just now?
Was she true to me
and will I love her less to know
I am betrayed?
The soldier's scarlet coat comes closer still.
I wait.
I know the end is here.

Joan Ryder Healey 2008

TIBOUCHINA

Ah! Tibouchina!
Purple opulence with music for a name.
Your royal colour blazes all around
as Gardeners embrace your lush display.
Your parent, Lasiandra, would be proud
to see her offspring's popularity.
The lavish splash of purple
fills the eye
delights the senses,
brightens up the day.
Tibouchina takes my breath away!.

Joan Ryder Healey 2005

TO MY DAUGHTER

I hear your key in the door,
swift footsteps down the hallway.
"In here!" I cry.
You, home from work, join me in the kitchen.
"Would you like a sherry now," I ask,
pour the golden fluid into glasses.
How you love the gurgling sound the liquid makes,
relax and tell me all the frets and worries
of your day; bright-eyed and animated,
lovely in your youthful indignation.

This was our mother-daughter time
so many years ago,
so many sad and aching years ago!
Memories, like snapshots laid away
are taken out and studied with fond eyes -
but you will never age, will stay the same,
your eyes bright blue,
brown hair untouched by grey,
forever young and lissom
in my mind.

Joan Ryder Healey 2004

TO NANCY

Dear Friend, we have endured loss and pain,
Love and laughter, tears, then smiles again

Since that first meeting three score years ago
When first we proffered smiles and said "Hello!"

Young mothers both, we bonded on that day;
So many things to share, so much to say -

And we have talked so much across the years,
Have shared our joys and hopes, our doubts and fears.

There have been times when tempers may have flared
But dissipated soon while jokes were shared.

But you were always there with helping hand
In times of trouble, tried to understand

My complex problems and to show you cared
How life was treating me and how I fared.

My thanks and true appreciation now I send
To Nancy with the laughing face - my friend!

Joan Ryder Healey 2007

TRINITY

Just for this moment I am neither wife,
nor child, nor mother -
only myself, with this
immensity of sea and sky engulfing,
and underfoot the heat-hazed sand.
Here, alone on the shore, I am free to be
my own woman for this time; to find myself,
to feel, to watch, discover!
Where is she, where?
This being other than eternal female:
Daughter, Mother, Wife!
I search behind closed lids and red lights dance...
but there is nothing.
No aim, no goal, no purpose to declare;
nothing to contribute, nothing to proclaim!
Am I a person - or a three-way mirror
ever reflecting?
I must let this sun and sea and solitude
soak into me like healing balm
so I may give out again for those I love.

© Joan Ryder Healey

BLOOD MOON

Centuries ago Columbus told
the savage natives of the island where
his ship had landed that unless they fed
his starving crew the white man’s God
would turn the moon to blood!
(For he had knowledge of the imminent
eclipse.) Behold! It came to pass as he
foretold.
The hostile natives, stricken by the sight,
provided sustenance.
A very happy ending to that story.
We watched the moon turn red last night,
together,
as we had watched its shape
so many times, from silver crescent to the full
glory of its golden rise.
I shivered as the dusky red appeared,
remembering that superstition tells
the blood moon is a harbinger of doom.
You reached across and drew me to your
side as if you knew the tenor of my thoughts
and I drew comfort from your loving gaze: my
constant in an ever-changing world.

Joan Ryder Healey 2007

CURLS

Oh, would that I had curly hair
Instead of straight and lank,
For think of all the money that
I'd still have in the bank!
Such time I've put aside for sets
Sometimes a frizzy perm.
I've had so many through the years
It really makes me squirm!
My friend who has a head of curls
Has never feared the rain
While I dash home to get the gear
To set my hair again.
If genes have any influence
I don't know who to thank
For giving me this head of hair
So straight, so fine, so lank!

Joan Ryder Healey2008

CUCKOO

All week long the shrieking bird has shredded nerves,
Sharpened tempers with its loud, incessant cries.
"What ails the bird?" was asked by everyone
Until we glimpsed the reason for ourselves.
Two harassed Currawongs with monstrous chick,
A Cuckoo, twice their size, demanding to be fed.
Ugly, puffed-up-feathered substitute!

How can they think they bred this monster bird
That runs them ragged with its raucous cries,
Its ever-open, gaping, screaming beak?
This alien thing that tipped
The true brood from the nest
And makes the garden hideous with its noise!

Joan Ryder Healey2006

CHINABIRD

This ornament, a pure white fantail pigeon, has evoked
A memory entrenched within my mind -
"La Traviata" Zeffirelli's masterpiece;
The image of a dovecote filled with snow-white
against the background of some rural paradise birds
while music, heavenly music, poured from the screen!

Oh, masterly director with his use of colour,
softest blues for boudoir furnishings,
cool and calming for my unshed tears,
while vibrant reds and gold for festive scenes
were ravishing the eyes!.

Our ears were listening with sweet content
To lovely melodies without compare,
so, pigeon, when I look at your mute clay
I hear again that liquid gold.

Joan Ryder Healey 2006

CARERS

Our Carers are so dedicated
making sure we're medicated;
doling out our pills and potions,
we swallow them with mixed emotions!
Up at some ungodly hour,
first they help us with our shower;
straighten things then make the bed.
But other tasks still lie ahead.
Though some grumbles may be heard,
still the smile and cheerful word!
All day at our beck and call
lets raise a cheer and bless them all!

Joan Ryder Healey 25/02/2012

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

VOLUNTEERS

What would we do without our volunteers
who give their time so freely through the years?
As blending seamlessly with staff they bring
warm friendly smiles and help with everything!
Giving up their time and days of leisure,
they give the Lodge's residents such pleasure.
It's good to know we have this happy band
to entertain and help our minds expand!
Our Club Room volunteers in every way
still prove their dedication day by day...

Joan Healey 9th March 2012