The long journey to Bethlehem,
No room at the inn,
A stable filled with love,
Brown donkey watching silently,
Doves softly cooing,
One tiny infant’s birth cry.
Angel songs in the night,
Mary the mother filled with joy,
Joseph the guardian standing amazed,
Shepherds kneeling to worship,
Three kings making a long pilgrimage,
All mankind awaiting,
SALVATION!
Cerita M. Hewett
2001
The neighbor’s lights are up,
They are in the Christmas spirit!
I can see their tree through the window,
It shines out to encourage me.
Our children are out of the dolls and play truck ages,
They have marched past the name brand clothing stage,
I will need to mail their packages,
What will delight their hearts today?
It’s hard to know.
I want to please them,
But really can’t be sure
How to get that adult face
To shine once again.
Perhaps it is not possible now,
Now that they know so much of the world,
But I will try.
Cerita M. Hewett
2002 (revised 2014)
(Thanks)
For butterfly wings and fluffy clouds,
For sweet rose scent and tangy pickle juice,
For craggy rocks and soft warm sand,
For children’s hands.
I thank thee Lord!
Cerita M. Hewett
(revised 2014)
(Gobblers)
The great turkey gobbler makes a noise!
He gobbles at the girls.
He gobbles at the boys.
Though we run away from all that squabble,
We laugh until we nearly wobble,
Cause soon we’ll be the ones that gobbles!
Cerita M. Moore
About 1961
The dry brown leaves
Raced across the pasture this morning,
They leaped, skipped, and flew
All the way to the fence.
Then they piled on top of each other,
Laughing, tickling, and jostling.
Whispering joy in their
Wild pasture dance.
Their sprint exposed
The tender new green grass
To the sun,
To the rain,
And to the hungry goats.
Cerita M. Hewett
February 20, 2014
We ate thick vegetable soup,
Sitting on the retaining wall,
In the backyard.
Plump piles of leaves
Waited to be mower mulched,
And wheel barreled to the garden,
While we shared cracker,
A kiwi,
An apple.
Sun soaked and work warmed,
We talked of pecan harvest,
Grown children,
And Thanksgiving.
Neither spoke of love,
But we gathered it anyway.
Cerita M. Hewlett
December 3, 1997
Book
Fire
Quiet room.
Time for
Deeper
Thoughts to bloom.
Not quick
Moments
Snatched from an hour,
But long
Delicious
Big book power.
Something
S o f t
To hold the head.
Phone
Turned off
No calls to heed.
A gift
Of time
To sit and READ.
Cerita M. Hewett
About 1998
The percussionists from the band
Did not get a lot of sleep last night,
And neither did I.
They started entertaining
About one in the morning and
Continued until six.
The opening movement
Consisted of low timpani slowly
Building to the staccato booms
Of the bass drum.
The second movement
Spotlighted large cymbals crashing,
While snares put together
Their relentless rhythms
On the roof, trees, and ground.
And the final movement
Featured the gradual
Retiring of the snares,
One clang of the small cymbals,
A silver tinkling of the bells,
Then three slow booms on the big bass drum,
And a gentle pom, pom, pom, by the timpani.
The early morning sun
Revealed a sparking world,
Gleaming in rain soaked trees,
And silvery grass.
But, as I said to begin with,
The percussionists from the band
Did not get a lot of sleep last night,
And neither did I.
Cerita M. Hewett
April 2014
Poetry is the royalty of written language,
So it must be purple,
Purple circles strung together,
Like a tangled silver slinky
Stretched unintentionally by a young child,
Revealing itself over time
With repeated vocal readings,
Untangling line by line,
Giving a fresh display of insight,
Still depending on the eye that is searching,
The different ears seeking the pleasure of sound
Over time, over time, over time,
Unmasking views and truths,
May you find it every day,
Wherever you go!
Cerita M. Hewett
Revised Oct. 2014
Ed’s little family can
Eat half a watermelon
In nothing flat!
They chew all the pink off the rind,
Leaving just a little white
Next to the dark green shell.
What Applejacks the pony gets is pitiful,
Still he eagerly gobbles the leavings and
The chickens snatch anything he misses.
Cerita M. Hewett
August 2011
Responding to family and suggestions from religious leaders, I am creating a facebook account and a blog. This will be an interesting journey for one who has lived three score and fifteen years. Since all that is posted on the internet seems to remain eternally, I will consider somewhat carefully what I post and yet I want to be true to my best self. Some of the pieces chosen were written long ago and some are recent.
A day without poetry is a sad day, yet I do not sit down every day and read a volume of poetry. Rather I notice it as it occurs naturally around me in phrases of children, songs, hymns, books, magazines, and the speech that surrounds me. And yes, I do take time to read poetry along the way because I love its sound and how it helps me perceive the world around me more clearly.
I really do not consider myself to be a poet, rather someone who enjoys shortened text. If something I write turns out to be poetic that is a pleasant surprise! I write to record, to remember experiences, and to have the deeper meaning of these happenings exposed to view. Looking back on what I have written through the years, the rich blessings received and the optimism of my life is quite evident.
My hope is that something here will bring a smile and will remind someone of the greatness and vitality of everyday life here on earth as children of a loving Heavenly Father. That we will all find greater joy as we we travel along together learning, laughing, crying, and appreciating the importance of our common Earth life and God given experiences.
Cerita M. Hewett October 9, 2014