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Best Poems Written by Cecelia Hopkins-Drewer

Below are the all-time best Cecelia Hopkins-Drewer poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

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Plastic Flowers

Sitting so pretty in a vase
You lift your deceitful faces to the world.
I may arrange you how I wish
And I may rejoice that your thorns 
Lack the sting of real thorns;
But betrayed, you always are
When I touch you.


Your delicately moulded petals are cold,
And you stand upright
Because you can do no other.
You lack the perfume 
That is nature's inner attraction,
And you do not droop and wilt,
For you know not what it is to lack water.


In pretending to live
You are no flower.
Forever beautiful,
You live not at all.


Forget artifice, but dare to take a drink 
From the bottomless well of life,
And you will find the wonder of your making,
The divinity of life, ripe for the picking.

Copyright © Cecelia Hopkins-Drewer | Year Posted 2017

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Sonnet for May Showers

The smatter and patter of May showers,
Falls on the remnants of April flowers;
Rivulets of pattern the soft rain weaves,
Running freely among March's fallen leaves.

May is my faviourite time of year,
It is neither summer nor winter here;
I know not which season's outfit to wear,
And my wool jumper is thrown over there.

Soon cold winter will arrive so bitter,
But in May we still see the sun glitter;
Green grass grows gathering under our feet,
And the scented air is balmy and sweet.

Oh May-time showers are gentle and fine,
Barely blocking beautiful May sunshine.

Copyright © Cecelia Hopkins-Drewer | Year Posted 2017

Details | Cecelia Hopkins-Drewer Poem

The Rainbow Serpent

Just outside the range of my eye,
The Rainbow Serpent slides through the grass.
Great snake from the firmament,
Left its colours and stars in the air;
To touch ground and visit its mob.

A puff of dust in the desert inland red,
A trail of tracks along a sandy beach,
The rustle of leaves in a northern rain-forest, 
Scuffles in gardens along city streets,
These are traces the Rainbow Serpent left.

Rainbow Serpent great father force from the sky
Attends the birth of its beloved children.
Rainbow Serpent bring peace and reconciliation 
Help heal this land Australia for all its people,
Longstanding and new, old and young. 

The Rainbow Serpent is an Australian Aboriginal traditional symbol. (See http://www.aboriginalartonline.com/culture/rainbow.php)

Copyright © Cecelia Hopkins-Drewer | Year Posted 2017

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The Reconciliation

When the war of worlds' was done
And the Colonists owned the sun,
The old miner from Sirius One
Gleaned the galaxy for his son.

He sought the brave boy he knew
He'd disowned in four thousand & two.
Though the surviving rebels were few,
he had word of his boy's crew.

Hurrying to the caverns of Lithmulu,
A prodigal father faced a boy in blue,
But it was too late his dream to realise,
For a parasite looked out of the wild eyes.

Copyright © Cecelia Hopkins-Drewer | Year Posted 2017

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The Adventures of LBS

The story of "Little Black Sambo", 
with foreign lands all exotic,
was written over a century ago,
when imaginations were chaotic.

The young boy is clearly a hero,
for despite his tender age and race,
terrifying tigers reduce to zero;
and he returns home with bold face.

If Sambo is a brave Indian child,
I would prefer he had an Indian name;
it seems ignorant to have styled,
African and Indian cultures the same.

Our frissons of moral discomfort,
as we note this narrative proclivity,
shows that modern readers now sport,
Increased serves of racial sensitivity. 

Today we have African friends,
and also Indian associates,
as travel and immigration blends,
and modern society all equates. 

Every child is exceptional,
brimming full of infinite worth,
developing with precious potential, 
no matter what their country of birth.

Copyright © Cecelia Hopkins-Drewer | Year Posted 2017

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Twenty Years from Now

Twenty years on I'm visiting the moon,
Enjoying a space tour for retirees,
An experience out-world and a boon:
Low gravity is great for my old knees.
Hotter than the century every day,
I bask and enjoy the blessed relief,
As my arthritis almost goes away, 
And the sights are so clear beyond belief!
Long days are good for the insomniac,
Staff store solar energy while they can,
Because the nights are long and cold and black,
And the seniors know to party, oh man!
Spent my superannuation too soon,
Might have to help science settle the dune!

Copyright © Cecelia Hopkins-Drewer | Year Posted 2017

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Sub-Station One

You call up and say:
“Hello, how are you today?”
I’m dead and rottin’ away,
But my droid is pretty bright,
It answers “I’m all right!”

You celebrate the bi-centennial,
And call up your oldest serving menial:
My spirit is hardly congenial,
But my droid is going strong;
It accepts congratulations from the throng.

So when all is said and done,
I’ve been dust on the floor of sub-station one
Twenty-three revolutions of the sun.
Your polite query is replied,
By the droid who inherited my pride.

Copyright © Cecelia Hopkins-Drewer | Year Posted 2017

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Loneliness - Pleiades

Long cold winters alone,
Lacking someone to share,
Love pets, limit grief known,
Live for others to care,
Looking for a soulmate,
Left out, seems too unfair,
Limping life’s path so late.

Copyright © Cecelia Hopkins-Drewer | Year Posted 2017

Details | Cecelia Hopkins-Drewer Poem

The Illusionist

As I was walkin’ down the street
I thought I saw him ahead,
I followed on trembling feet
wherever he led.

We threaded through the crowd
And entered a dark lane.
The sun blushed behind a cloud
As I leapt into his arms again.

Tear blind eyes freed my senses
To see the monster manning the trap.
I halted at the hyper-spatial fences,
Poised to take a step back...

Come, thou Demond of Delgon,
Appear as my lover again for me.
I know not where he is gone,
And I may be consumed by thee.

Copyright © Cecelia Hopkins-Drewer | Year Posted 2017

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The Betrayal

I’ll take my kisses in a flood
Holy with Lust,
Hot with Blood.
Never, never let it come to this,
The cold, cold kiss.

Lean closer my sweetness,
Feel my passionate heart;
Forever together in completeness,
Never more to be torn apart.

Oh, Jude go not so far away.
Persist to Love
Till we are Grey!
No, no, never let it come to this,
One cold traitors’ kiss.

Cold are your fingers,
Over my passionate heart;
For old times’ sake, your hand lingers,
Hesitant to make a start.

I want all my kisses in a flood
Holy with Lust,
Warmed with Blood.
Oh, oh, never let it come to this,
One cold Judas kiss.

(1995/2017)

Copyright © Cecelia Hopkins-Drewer | Year Posted 2017

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