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Joan Spilman

Joan Spilman

Literary Women's and Appalachian Fiction and Fantasy Author

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    A Brush with Faith

    Painting by Allan Harbour, oils.

    March 28, 2023 by joanspilman

    Snow Moon

    “Snow Moon” by Allan Harbour.

    March 15, 2023 by joanspilman

    WHAT IF by Llewellyn McKernan

    No wonder they set out to find the Savior of the world. They’d seen him in action.

    December 20, 2022December 20, 2022 by joanspilman

    MANGER SCENE

    . . . the staunch shiny star that refuses to fall from its perch.

    December 4, 2022December 3, 2022 by joanspilman

    Leaving Home by Richard Spilman

    I was eight and followed wherever light commanded . . .

    April 24, 2022 by joanspilman

    A “ROSE FOR JOAN” by Allan Harbour

    “A Rose for Joan”, done in oils by Allan Harbour
    April 20, 2022 by joanspilman

    Faith by Richard Spilman

    Grace . . . kept by itself in the drawer of a bedside table. . .

    April 19, 2022April 18, 2022 by joanspilman

      Communion by Richard Spilman

    Here there is flesh to spare, but never enough blood.

    April 17, 2022April 17, 2022 by joanspilman

    June Bugs by Richard Spilman

    Insects have no sense of tragedy.

    April 12, 2022 by joanspilman

    Hint of Spring by Allan Harbour

    Hint of Spring by Allan Harbour

    April 11, 2022April 11, 2022 by joanspilman

    The Field by Richard Spilman

    There are evenings when God walks in this field — yes, this one

    April 4, 2022 by joanspilman

    Age of Loss by Richard Spilman

    The web pulses in the breeze — huge, white, glittering with dew.

    April 3, 2022 by joanspilman

    Hello, Spring! Allan Harbour, artist.

    Allan Harbour, artist in oils.

    March 29, 2022 by joanspilman

    Conditional by Richard Spilman

    let him burn the house down

    March 28, 2022March 28, 2022 by joanspilman

    Memento Mori by John Holland

    Nothing here to be had.

    March 24, 2022 by joanspilman

    Come here by John Holland

    And let the dance begin

    March 23, 2022 by joanspilman

    Tilting by John Holland

    He mounts Ego. That winged ass.

    March 21, 2022March 20, 2022 by joanspilman

    Spring Song by Allan Harbour

    March 20, 2022March 20, 2022 by joanspilman

    Once Upon A Mind by John Holland

    . . .running riot through red rooms.

    March 19, 2022 by joanspilman

    Broken Wings by John Holland

    This world is hard and heavy. Most often darkness rules; but in the sunlight somewhere sings every bird with broken wings. Broken Wings is part of an… Read more “Broken Wings by John Holland”

    March 17, 2022 by joanspilman

    The Birth of Chaos by John Holland

    The sky is indigo and indignant.

    March 15, 2022March 15, 2022 by joanspilman

    Chubb Illusions by John Holland.

    As she dances she sings with sweet sickness of her lost love.

    March 10, 2022 by joanspilman

    Northern Waters by John Holland

    I knew a sea once

    March 8, 2022 by joanspilman

    The Sky is Coming Down by John Holland

    Wear me for a brooch.

    March 7, 2022March 7, 2022 by joanspilman

    Black Bulls by John Holland

    You dare come here unarmed and mindless?

    March 6, 2022 by joanspilman

    Water Signs by John Holland  

    Everything comes to the river at some stage.

    March 5, 2022 by joanspilman

    Going Down? by John Holland

    Floating . . . on the tip of a madman’s tongue.

    March 3, 2022 by joanspilman

    If I Only Could by John Holland

    Time . . . every now and then take out a pinch and breathe it in real slow.

    March 2, 2022March 1, 2022 by joanspilman

    Luna Blue, painting by Allan Harbour

    Done in oils. “Luna Blue” by Allan Harbour.

    March 1, 2022February 28, 2022 by joanspilman

    A long way home by John Holland

    . . . she dances in the lonely desert of a man’s dry heart.

    February 28, 2022March 4, 2022 by joanspilman

    Abuse by John Holland

    She trembles inside the silence of flesh vaults.

    February 27, 2022February 27, 2022 by joanspilman

    Any Town by John Holland

    … tanned legs so beautiful they make your heart ache.

    February 26, 2022February 26, 2022 by joanspilman

    By Any Other Name, by Richard Spilman

    My love is like a red, red begonia. Doesn’t work.

    February 23, 2022 by joanspilman

    In This Season, by Richard Spilman

    The snake splits open, unpeeling its old self against an exposed root.

    February 22, 2022February 22, 2022 by joanspilman

    Song of Spring, by Allan Harbour

    Allan Harbour is a West Virginia artist who paints in oils. This painting was done for Jennie, his wife.

    February 22, 2022February 22, 2022 by joanspilman

    The Black-and-White Photography of Edward Weston, by Richard Spilman

    Here is what color cannot do,
    unmask the homeliest form.

    February 18, 2022February 18, 2022 by joanspilman

    Anniversary, by Richard Spilman

    Our love . . . an age freckled map.

    February 14, 2022February 14, 2022 by joanspilman

    Imperative, by Richard Spilman

    Stand still as the falcon passes close behind . . .

    February 10, 2022February 10, 2022 by joanspilman

    Leeks, by Richard Spilman

    . . . spring bullied us into wakefulness.

    February 7, 2022February 6, 2022 by joanspilman

    ICE STORM, by Richard Spilman

    Trees like old men, bent with the burden of their bones.

    February 1, 2022February 1, 2022 by joanspilman

    WINTER TREAT, by Allan Harbour

    Done in oils.

    January 31, 2022January 30, 2022 by joanspilman

    Lobsters, by Richard Spilman

    He clung to the edge, he beat the sides. What a terrible clanging!

    January 28, 2022January 27, 2022 by joanspilman

    Still Waters, by Allan Harbour

    Done in oils.

    January 27, 2022January 26, 2022 by joanspilman

    Moonbrella, by Allan Harbour

    January 19, 2022January 19, 2022 by joanspilman

    Snow Woman, by Llewellyn McKernan

    Praise the light that melts you.

    January 13, 2022January 12, 2022 by joanspilman

    Chilly Scene of Winter, by Allan Harbour

    January 11, 2022January 11, 2022 by joanspilman

    In the Night Speaking, by Richard Spilman

    Nothing comprehensible is more than it appears to be.

    January 7, 2022January 7, 2022 by joanspilman

    Danvers, Illinois by Richard Spilman

    There were words straight as corn,

    January 4, 2022 by joanspilman

    Snowy Hideaway, by Allan Harbour

    Snowy Hideaway

    December 30, 2021 by joanspilman

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