Radiant Blues by Joan Howard

My dear friend and fellow poet, Joan M. Howard, has published this beautiful book of poems, Radiant Blues.

Being a woman of a certain age—like me—Joan's subjects are relatable to ageing, and beautifully written. She lost her husband to illness some years ago, and that has also been a bond between us. I admire her for many reasons, one of which is that she kayaks on Lake Chatuge. She walks on the dam almost every day. She keeps moving outdoors. She lives on the lake and has easy access to the water.

Insight

by Joan Howard  

If he could see home now, what would he think?  

Cobwebs in his study, meticulous  

order through the workshop littered—clutter  

on his saws! The deck chair from pressurized wood  

he built her, gray and broken in the yard.  

"You don't like change," he said; she had preserved  

it all—every bowl, table, tray, jigsawed  

masterpiece, and his ashes by her bed.  

But yet, outside had transformed.  

Camellias he'd planted from pots as tall as some trees,  

magnolia, lilies, gardenia blooming,  

sparse brown lawn grass a soft green moss cover.  

If he looks, she sees him everywhere, in  

the weathered trellis, spring daffodils—his?

Three Women on the Dam

We walked for years, three women on the dam—  

divorced or married, widowed. We all knew  

each other well—three miles, four days a week,  

kept secrets of suffering, heroics.  

Once Kathy said that sun and cloud could make  

a living halo in daylight. I scoffed.  

Years later though, in heavy morning mist,  

low eastern sun behind us, it was there:  

our three heads surrounded by green-gold light,  

distinguished each one, bodies a pure black  

in shadowed pantomime, our heads radiant,  

transformed, moments long, an epiphany.  

                                        ----Joan Howard  

First Love

Where I spent two years as a college student

Do you remember your first love when you were young and not ready for a serious relationship? 

I was a college student at a girl's school. He was in a military school across town. We were together as much as possible for two years, walking on the beautiful campus, sitting under the giant oaks, and enjoying being with each other. That was love back then. But it was not to continue. I was going away to the university and he would be attending another military school as he planned to make the Army his career. I knew I didn't want to be a military wife. 

This poem is about our last date.

In Love Too Soon

Your aftershave still lingers on my skin,
the smell of bruised spring grass. Raindrops, 

like falling tears, track the glass that separates us.

I see you by the streetlight
as you walk away, your boots
careless of the puddles.

You stop, turn, look up. I glimpse
the anguish, the disbelief I etched
on your dear face.

You can only see a black hole 

in a red brick building filled

with other students like me.

I covet your embrace, your kiss,
but fear I’d not be strong enough
to send you away this time.

Our hearts meshed much too soon.
Love crept in while I was unprepared,
still trying to find the woman in the girl.

You grow smaller in the murky light.
Past the movie house where holding
hands on Saturday afternoons, we barely 

watched the screen.

Past Ray's diner where we first met,
where you gave me your captain's pin,

marked me yours for all the world to see.

I cannot turn my eyes away until, like
an apparition, you’re gone, vanished
into darkness and forever.

                --- Glenda Council Beall