Tuesday, August 18, 2009

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


  1. Dear Joanne..Indeed, words are the messenger across the universe..Reverberating, echoing, and as in your poem, "Listen", if only all would listen..It is always good to open the door to the mind...This is a wonderful write of just that...

  2. Margaret,
    You too are a lover of the written word, I know . . . and of all words with meaning and truth. Thank you.
    I've been away for a bit, but will visit your blog tomorrow . . . I enjoy your writings as well, so much!

  3. Your arrow has pierced my flesh and struck my heart... And though i know not how to shot an arrow or handle a bow i try to learn little by little, each day at a time from sifting through these pages... i am trully inspired..

  4. Thank you so much, Mich. I am truly honored by your comments!


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