Sunday, November 25, 2007

I Want A Refund!

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The vines grow deep and twisted
‘round the trees
and mosquitoes have no conscience,
not one speck of mercy
here in this swamp.

The fog is so thick and gray
like old soup
‘never been stirred’
and while my guide is a Creole giant,
he’s no match for that
brown-toothed voodoo woman
bleeding chickens in her hut.

He paddles on, slow as a lazy turtle
while our rotting boat floats way down stream
and I see the eyes of that sneaky gator
peering with his damn tail twitching
as he licks his chops.
Who hired this guy, anyway?!

Slowly he pokes the long stick
into the muddy bottom
to move us on downstream
before the night falls.
I have no nails left from scratching.
Dear God, what was I thinking?
“See the world . . . eat with the natives”
I think the natives have other plans for dinner!
(and I’m one of them)

Something tells me
there’s no Club Med around here.
What the HELL was I thinking?

Joanne Cucinello 2007

Saturday, November 24, 2007

Spirit Child

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Spirit Child

She dances sometimes
on my ceiling
in graceful swirls of ivory lace,
brushing by with wistful wings.
Childlike, hushed and innocent
she stirs my heart awake.

Such beauty!
How can this be . . . again?
She bears the face of an angel
a sweet cherub
captured by moonbeams
floating through my window.

I lay here watching
awed and silent
graced by
this gossamer being
caught in my world.
Why does she pass my way?

Stardust falls from her hair
and I am spellbound
as she turns wide-eyed, angelic
searching for something
. . . someone.

In hushed amazement, I watch as she gazes at me
who cannot speak, nor reach to touch.
Can it be that I’m the one she’s looking for,
Me, who is not ready yet . . . to cross the borders of eternity?

Joanne Cucinello 2007

Sunday, November 18, 2007

Moving On

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Moving On

This road
is the one
you should take~
he said

And I looked
far down
to its bend
around the trees
not knowing
my eyes would find.

The silent oaks stood
tall and strong
their branches
dropping graceful
leaves along the path
my soft foot
to take a chance
and follow
the unknowing curve
that mirrored
my life.

Joanne Cucinello 2007

Friday, November 9, 2007

O Silent Night, My Prayer

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O Silent Night, My Prayer

O Lord
of the silent night
you have
given me this heart
and soul
to wonder.
You have given me
my life and my breath.
I sit in awe
my darkness illumined
by your majestic gifts.
Light! The brilliance of this night!
Beggars are kings
as they gaze with me.
I sit awake
while the whole world slumbers.
I count the stars
as the angels sleep.
If my heart had wings
it would soar to the treetops
and sing to You
with Nightingales.
This night
I am loved to fullness
This night has redeemed my soul
and lifted me from sadness.
O Lord
of the silent night
my God
this moment in my heart
forever scribed
will be my prayer.

Still Small Voice

Still Small Voice

I should have listened.
There is truth in the small still voice
that whispers to the heart.
It’s not that I wasn’t taught
or that I ignored Jiminy Cricket
sitting on my shoulder
It was just that spiny stubborn part of me
that always has to take the double dare.
Sometimes I win
Sometimes I lose
And sometimes . . .
I even listen and give in.
This time . . . .I should have.

Joanne Cucinello 2007

Can You Believe Me?

What if I were to tell you
that the world could never be the same without you?
What if you believed that you were truly priceless?
And what if all the years you’ve lived
were rolled up in a purple ball
and given to a newborn child
who’d grow one day and say to you . . .
"Teach me . . . "
Do you think your life holds lessons to be learned?
And when you sift through the stones and pebbles
you’ve stumbled on,
do you see the gold dust and the crystals too?
What if I were to tell you that you shine,
that when you enter a room and smile . . . .the lights go on?
Can you believe me . . . that you are loved and forgiven
and that you will always be remembered
for the good you have done,
that which you so easily forget?
Would these things make a difference?
Would they help you to breathe in the moments
one by one
that you . . . like all of us . . . take for granted?
And what is life anyway, but a gift . . . .
a pure gift . . .
We can look up and see the stars,
We can dream . . . . we can love.
We can truly live forever . . .
right now.

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