Just another WordPress.com site

Archive for March, 2015

Haiku and Loku Days-April Day

© Jo Hewitt THE TEAL MANGO, 2011

SSIDD aka SSB Drever aka Sadie Stella Bella and I were walking around Jewel Square and Golden Heights  before stopping in at The Teal Mango for coffee and a chat with Maddie. It was a misty April day and this series of haikus are the fruit of it.

April Day


Peach Tree Debutante,
Blossoms demure pink slippers.
Gaudy tulips flaunt.
Red buds whispering.
Quiet violets repose
Amid moss settees
Gray watering sky.
The gently tapping raindrops
Calm my harried thoughts.
                                         Down Pour by LaVere Hutchings

Haiku and Loku Days-The Oneness of Now

© Jo Hewitt THE TEAL MANGO, 2015


The SSB Drever and I came upon these clumps of ornamental grasses on our walk the other day. The sunlight gilding the remnants of a previous season-beautifull! And we were there in that sunlit moment.


 The Oneness of Now

Dried Grasses in Spring Sunlight by Jo Hewitt

Dried Grasses in Spring Sunlight by Jo Hewitt

Grasses from the past
Wave to the future spring sun.
In Now all is one.



March Observation.

© Jo Hewitt THE TEAL MANGO, 2015


I took the SSB Drever for a short walk while it was warm and there was daylight. A pair of sandals and a paradox or two.



 March Observation

Ice Patch Melting in March Sun by Jo Hewitt

Ice Patch Melting in March Sun by Jo Hewitt

Scarf around my neck.
Sandals on my feet.
Sixty two degrees.
Walking around an old ice sheet.
Remnants of February
But it feels like May.
Must be March,
Wouldn’t you say?



Haiku and Loku Days-Planting Seeds, Planting Memories

© Jo Hewitt THE TEAL MANGO, 2015


March 8th was the second anniversary of my mother’s death.  I was with her the last days of dying before the final breath, It was a painful death. My memories of her and the parts of our journeys in our lives that over-lapped are a mix of joy and pain. March is 8th is painful.

Less time this year was spent in tears. Much more of it in joy. I spent the day at my daughter’s house with her and her two children -Asher almost 4 and Parisa who just turned 2. We were continuing with part 2 of our gingerbread train project. The goal is to have this finished by Asher’s 4th birthday. There is not much time left.

I had a wonderful day, a joyful day. And any day I think of those two little people, I cannot help but smile. I want as many happy memories as I can get and as many as I can help plant for my grandchildren. I want to be a part of making their childhood better than my own and better than I could give my own children.

Memories-part of the connection between the generations. They are an intricately knotted cord of the macrame of the DNA of our lives holding us as we, our souls, hang in, hovering in this realm. They connect us to those who have returned to the spiritual world and those yet to come.

I planted seeds of gingerbread, of hugs and kisses, of play and laughter for myself and hopefully for them. And maybe, it will be a link between my mother and my grandchildren.


Planting Seeds, Planting Memories



Memories. I know   
I want, need to plant seeds.                  
New memories grow.


Haiku and Loku Days-Replacement Parts

© Jo Hewitt THE TEAL MANGO, 2015


Our roles change as we go through life. We are cast in different parts along the way. Child-parent-grandparent-a common succession for many. One part is the understudy for the next. We are always standing in the wings, watching, listening, learning our craft as human beings, preparing for the next role. Some transitions are smoother than others. No longer child or even parent-I am the grandparent. With my mother’s death two years ago this month, I am the oldest generation in the play of my life.

The final act is where it all comes together. Everyday I head out on that stage and try my best to give a good performance. Most of it improvisational. I haven’t played this role before and I didn’t have so many others around to study. I’ll do my best to keep the audience in stitches, laughing- and thinking, all of us searching for a better version of ourselves- before the curtain comes down on the final, final act, the final bow.


Replacement Parts

Young Mother Sewing by Mary Cassatt

Young Mother Sewing by Mary Cassatt

Child to parent, 
Grand apparent it’s time- 
Move! head of the line.


Atom At Om

© Jo Hewitt THE TEAL MANGO, 2015


At a certain point in life, one might notice that there are patterns and cycles in one’s life. Long ago some one told me this and it could very well be true. I have noticed things, events, lack of things, lack of events in my own life.


Occasionally I succumb to lament, go through my own little grieving and then again open my eyes, my arms, my heart to embrace what I have. This time of year, a time of meditation and reflection, the last dark days of winter before the anticipation of a new year, a new spring, lament clutters my path like litter of previous cycles before blowing away in the spring light of gratitude for the good I have.

Atom at Om


w a s 
at once
at one
heart of atom
split apart
a part
part parts
the a one
one all one
one a lone
one alone
some alone
some all alone
alone some
heart break
heart ache
pulls into a black hole
black as night
devoid of light
some whole
whole some
one wholesome
at om
at once
at one


© Jo Hewitt THE TEAL MANGO, 2015


Looking at news headlines this morning and actually all week and beyond, I was inspired to write this verse, this little ditty sung to a variation of There’s a Place For Us from Westside Story. You can choose your own head of state-past or present, or head of a boardroom to envision while you sing.

Come on. Everybody sing!


That’s where it is really at. 


Power here. Power there.
Power, power everywhere,


All the power I can find
Even if it is only
In my mind.



Tag Cloud