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Archive for April, 2011

Haiku and Loku Days-Marshmallows in Autumn

© Jo Hewitt THE TEAL MANGO, 2011

Remember your first bonfire and, more importantly, the first time the grown-ups let you roast your marshmallow all by yourself? The flames flicked off the branches. The mesmerizing dance of yellow, orange , and red, with the occasional spikes of green or blue seemed the best place to roast that marshmallow.

But too many times it fell and was obliterated by the fire. If you were lucky, you might salvage an amorphous blob -part burnt charcoal and parts never even warmed.  But if you had aimed for the embers, which many time are harder to access, taken the patience to find them, and the patience to roast the marshmallow there, you might have ended up with a perfectly roasted confection, a delight to the senses.

Love is something like that. The flames of love in youth are so enticing, the hypnotic lure, oh, the thrill of jumping in! The flames burn brilliantly for awhile, and then, are gone. And many people are left with a handful of ashes with something raw inside.

Watch the fire for a while; look for the embers and see how they burn-soft, glowing, and a source of the longest lasting flames. They will carry you through the night with their heat. And when all seems dark, give them a nudge and the heat will still be there.

Marshmallows in Autumn


Aim for the embers,                                                                                       
The flames always burn too fast.          
Embers roast just right.









Haiku and Loku Days-Spare Change

© Jo Hewitt THE TEAL MANGO, 2011

 Leaving the roller coaster ride of the body for a walk around the park.  One spends decades trying to deal with and get used to the ups and downs of the body and then it changes-from the wild ups and downs of the roller coaster to that period one spends walking around a bit to regain bearings before starting the journey home. 

It is life in general. Some things become less, some things become more. It is not good or bad, but different- different body, different events, different perspective, and a different acceptance. And that is where the walk around the park leads to the quiet of moments at the reflection pond.

Spare Change

My hormones left and
Didn’t leave me a note to
Say where they’re going.

Haiku and Loku Days-Dulac Dawn

© Jo Hewitt THE TEAL MANGO, 2011

I over slept this morning but had awakened just in time to see the barely discernible flush of clouds emerge from a grayed blue blanket in the western sky. Little by little, the clouds, the blue, the whole vista-trees, houses, became clear. The sun rises in the east, but its light is reflected in the west. Standing alone in the quiet of my kitchen, the magic of the transition reminded me of some of the plates of illustrations done by Edmund Dulac for The Rubáiyát of Omar Khayyám .

Dulac Dawn


Hidden by the Sleeve of Night by Edmund Dulac

Night whispers, “Awake!”

Naked Morn beams, flushed, alight.

Breathless fades the Night.


Haiku and Loku Days-Strawberry Habanero

© Jo Hewitt THE TEAL MANGO, 2011

I love food, not in the sense of gorging myself, but for its innate beauty of color, fragrance and design. An artful dish is to be lauded and embraced, but there is a sensuous joy in food in its native state.

Some things you just don’t forget-your first fragrant juicy bite of a sun basked strawberry or the first bite of a habanero with its excruciating searing  and numbness that leave you wanting more.

Strawberry Habanero

Dawn basked blush with dew
Flirts from parasols of green.
Heart drop ingenue.

Tantalizing orb
Yields endorphin pain delight.
Torrid balm less night.


Habanero Peppers by Jennifer Berry

Habanero Peppers by Jennifer Berry

Haiku and Loku Days-The Poppy Grave.

© Jo Hewitt THE TEAL MANGO, 2011

My friend Al posted a haiku dedicated to the “Midnight sighing of the poor”

Springtime hills grow red
As bright Afghan poppies bloom
With war’s addiction.

(Albert Black- 2011)

These are my response.

The Poppy Grave

Metal spewing blood.
Mettle through unending blood.
Metal taste of blood.

Such poppies this year!
They unceasingly feed on
Blood of my children.

Waiting your return.
Bombs reigned over your work field.
Your tea has grown cold.


Poppies by Oznat Tzadok

Poppies by Oznat Tzadok




Haiku and Loku Days-What Is the Metta For?

© Jo Hewitt THE TEAL MANGO, 2011

I live my life in metaphors. And if one believes this realm is a reflection of a spiritual realm, perhaps it is one big metaphor.  As metaphors in writing convey hidden meaning, this realm brings hints of meaning of the spiritual. It can be a challenge to walk the path, as a soul with a body, on the shore where the material meets the spiritual in this many times, seemingly cruel world, with pure kindness.  What is the purpose of offering kindness? Is it for some eternal reward or because it is the right thing to do whether the act is acknowledged in either realm or not?

What’s the Metaphor?

What’s the metaphor?
So what is the metta for?
So Zen. So what then?

Haiku and Loku Days-Trash Days

© Jo Hewitt THE TEAL MANGO, 2011

House, thoughts, life-  purging, and getting the “garbage” out. Every trash day is a treasure day, treasuring the opportunity for growth. But I am always a little behind, a little out of sync. Too many times I miss the opportunity, the truck has come and gone before I am aware.

Trash Days

It’s Thursday again?
Meaningless blur empty days.
Must put the trash out.

Haiku and Loku Days-Apple Blossoms at April Dusk

© Jo Hewitt THE TEAL MANGO, 2011

The SSB Drever and I were walking last evening around the square just a little before sunset. We rounded a corner under a fragrant cloud. I looked up to find us standing under an apple tree in full bloom. Through the blossoms was the waning sun reaching from behind golden clouds. I began to think of the juxtaposition of the metaphors of spring and dusk, seasons, the illusion of time and its passing, and the choices we make all through our lives, whether or not it is a sacrifice of precious days.

Apple Blossoms at April Dusk

Dawn blooms. Cooling dusk.
Petals fall to birth red orbs.
Is love the perfume?


Apple Blossoms Backlit by Setting Sun by Jim Marden

Apple Blossoms Backlit by Setting Sun by Jim Marden

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