Tuesday, August 18, 2009

Must I Stay A Human?

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I’m wondering where that cat went.
All day she was prowling around my yard.
First swatting at beetles
then prodding the earth for that pink worm’s head.

Cats are so oblivious to anything
but their own whims and desires
they fascinate with twitches . . .
They are the lovers of pounce!

Someday, I might like to return as one
soft pawed and green eyed
filled with lusty desire to discover
all things . . . moveable and flittering

I might like to ogle at goldfish
in the neighbors pond
and dream of cleaning bones with my raspy tongue
swallowing their last bits of salty flesh.

Yes, I would like to be a cat
full of purrs and curled up limbs
bewitching glances and arched back tilting
towards the one who fluffs my bed on the windowsill.

God, make me a cat!
I promise I’ll be kind to little finches in the bush
just a feather or two for old times sake
just a small devilish twist in air to remind me

. . . I’m a cat!

Joanne Cucinello 2007

I Shot An Arrow


A love poem remembered,
a psalm in time of need
that worn page so often turned to
words of life that
burst through barren soil
like arrows plucked from their quiver.

They emerge in time
from the sacred well
drawn from memories deep
and quench the thirsty soul.

Some hit their mark
and sting the flesh with honesty
while others barely brush
in passing.

Who can tame the flight
of words that spring from
tongue or pen?
Who presumes to see
their port of call?
No one . . . not even the Wind

Yet, there are words that move us
turn us inward to search
beyond the common door
to find a reason to go on
a reason for this unrelenting quest.

Joanne Cucinello

Tuesday, August 4, 2009


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"Live!" . . . said the Moon on her perch
in the black sea of heaven.
"Fully ". . . she whispered
to the children of the earth
who were making love and waging war
eating and starving, dying and being born.

Live!! . . . she shouted, as they stumbled
and fell, trying over and over to walk
in their shoes of immortality.
Live!! . . . she cried, as they pulled their hair
in disbelief that they could in fact . . . live forever.
"Nothing lives forever" . . . they sobbed
"all things surely must die!"

"All things but You" . . . she whispered now
alone in her heaven, without the Sun,
who rises when she falls, who shines when she is dark.
"All things but You!" . . . echoed the Stars,
and they wept for the Moon in her loneliness.
"You are not like us, set adrift to light the heavens
exalted in your poetry, fading into darkness at the end.

Listen and truly live . . . Mankind
before the Sun and Moon have run their course.
Learn that it is YOU who are immortal,
You, the beings who can dream and yearn and love
and You who will shine long after our light is gone.
There is more to Man than flesh and bone.
You are the children of God, and though you inhabit
the Earth, you are Spirit.
Listen! . . . it is You . . . who will live forever."

Joanne Cucinello

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