Artist spotlight: poet Harriet Hyde

Hyde has a keen, observant eye for the minute details in nature, such as wildflowers and animals and all can be found on Hyde Mountain.

Harriet Hyde has a long-time penchant for penning poems about nature and life around her.

This month my featured artist is Harriet Hyde.

The longtime, well known resident of Sicamous practises the literary art of poetry.  After finding a book of poems in her sisters room, at age 11, Hyde was inspired to write her own poetry. Now, at age 85, she is still writing when inspiration hits her. Hyde’s inspiration comes from within, as well as from her extreme fondness for nature.

A lot of humour shines through her poetry. She has a keen, observant eye for the minute details in nature, such as wildflowers and animals and all can be found on Hyde Mountain.

Living on Hyde Mountain in a log home – built by Scotty Hyde, her late husband, heated by a wood stove –  it is the perfect setting for a poet.

Having read some of Hyde’s poems, her satirical voice is clear in many of them.  Hyde prefers the “old” style of poetry – when things would rhyme.

The art of making words click together, finding the right ones that rhyme is no small task. Hyde writes them out in longhand and has many filed in books. She also has a keen and observant eye for life, and puts things into the structured form of poetry. One of the more telling books of poems written in longhand is called, The Book of The Ridiculous by (I hate to admit it) Harriet Hyde.

Over the years, some of Hyde’s poems have been published in The Province, as well as in the local papers. All the poems are a valuable legacy for her children, grandchildren and great grandchildren. It is a reflection of the great lady she is, her sense of nature and sense of humour shine through everything she has written. There were many poems for me to pick from, but the Bopple Weed, to me, is what Harriet Hyde is all about.

The Bopple Weed – By Harriet Hyde

Do you know the Bopple weed?

If so, you’re very wise indeed.

They used to grow most everywhere

But they are now extremely rare.

They grew beneath the Boplar trees,

And swung and swayed with every breeze.

It took them years to bopulate,

And that explains their likely fate.

If you should come on one by chance,

Then do a glad, impromptu dance.

For scientist will hip and hopple,

And yell hurray, we’ve found a bopple.


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