Wednesday, September 30, 2009


I wrote this in 2004 after the Tsunami struck Sri Lanka
but sadly I am re-posting it in memory of those
lost this week in the Samoan Islands.

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Death came this morning
even as the Sun was shining on little children,
even as their tiny hands sifted sand at the ocean’s shore.
Death came
like the Beast that was promised
from ages past,
up from the deep,
cracking the shell of the ocean floor
reaching its fierce tentacles out . . . out
over land,
over houses,
crashing steel and wood and glass,
raging salted terror and devastation
like a holocaust called forth
from the bowels of the earth.
Bodies are floating like dead trees
washing up on the shore
and above the waves . . . the sound of wailing mothers.

Where are you, my father?
Where is the house that you built with your hands?
Where are you, my sweet baby,
torn from my arms by the hungry devil sea?
I cannot find you,
your small body to lay in the ground
that I’ve covered with flowers.
I want to remember the life I once knew,
but instead I will dream forever
of the raging ocean wall
that rose and tore you from my arms.
I could not hold you, little one,
the waves, so strong, took you away
and I am alone now without my heart
without even a smile for the Sun
who lied that morning saying, “All is well.”

Joanne Cucinello 12/26/2004

Monday, September 28, 2009

It Was Amy

She turns around
now and then
to look, to gaze
behind her
at something eternally
the beating heart
the stillborn image
floating free...
catching up in time
to touch her soul
reminding her
once she had a child
named Amy.

That quiet giggle
passing sometimes
in a breeze
across the lawn
scented with her
sunlit hair . . . dancing

could have been a butterfly
perhaps, but no.

And then that young man
who returns each year
the day in May
when she was born

to find her spirit
at the water's edge
around the cove
where she stands again
with pebbles shining
in her hands . . . Amy.

Joanne Cucinello

Sunday, September 27, 2009

Even In the Rain

rainy night Pictures, Images and Photos
My Love
some nights
in my dreams
I am all alone
down lonely streets
in the rain.
I hear your voice
far in the distance
and even though
I shiver with cold
your voice
keeps calling me
begging me
not to be afraid . . .
You are there
your warm blanket
of love
an umbrella
your arms and lips
my home.

Joanne Cucinello 2009

Monday, September 14, 2009

May I Never Forget


Lord . . . what can I say to you?
How can I look through the doors
of heaven and still be standing?
You wrapped me in a blanket of comfort
and hid me from the shadow of darkness.
You lifted me, surrounded me
with angel's wings.

What could have been my ending
the last thought in my head
the last tear from my eye
became a pillow filled
with gladness and my heart
a blooming rose.

Lord . . . you thought of me
remembered me
said that my body was not
to walk among the dead
but to walk hand in hand with the living.
You knew I had more to give
and stayed the hand of the Reaper.

May I never forget this day
and the mercy poured upon me
the feathers of the angels
white and pure
and the faces of those
who wept with smiles for me.

Joanne Cucinello

Wednesday, September 9, 2009

He's Gone

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The sun
now ending its long walk
across the sky
peeks again through the willow.
It’s quiet now.
She sits by the window
looking at the garden
and this aging man
who once she knew
as lover mate . . .
now more like a child
a lost one at that
but still a man in form
the man she loved
for all these years
who calls her Sally now,
Sally . . . some girl he knew
when he was young.
Sally doesn’t live here
and this is not his home
in West Virginia.

He keeps looking for his dog
long dead . . . calling out
“Scotty! Come here, boy.”
And she sits and watches
as he clips the branches
of the small bush
that sits alone at the back
of the yard.
She’s thinking how like branches
his mind
is being clipped away each day.

he’ll come through the door
yelling and asking why
she’s sitting in his house
. . . . and where’s Sally?
And the wedding pictures
on the bureau
stare back at him
like strangers
toasting ghosts.

She sits by the window
holding screams
beneath her breath
of frozen tears
and weeps silent
even as the fireflies
begin their dance.

He’s lost
the man she loved
locked in some forbidden space
within his mind
growing deeper and deeper away
lost to all who called him friend
and father and . . . Darling.

“ I can’t find Scotty” he mumbles
teary-eyed through the door
and she cups his face in her tender hands
trying to find him . . . somewhere.
Night begins its close around them
as he smiles and pats her hair
and plants his small kiss upon her cheek
. . . “ I love you, Sally.”

Joanne Cucinello 2007

~ "He's Gone" received the Award of Excellence in the Winter 2007 Poet’s Sanctuary Excellence Award Competition and has been published in “Splash of Verse 2007”~

Thursday, September 3, 2009

I Want To Live!

I want to fly tonight
leave this body
and fly!

I want to hold
my breath
and swim with whales!

I want to follow
the mountain goats
to Everest

and find an eagle's
feather there.

I want to lie in
the den of the Great
Black Bear and
nuzzle with her cubs.

I want to find
that place of promise
where my name is
carved in stone.

I want to never
forget that
I was here.

I want to live!

Joanne Cucinello

And You Are the Man I Love

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Warm and tender, you look into my eyes
speaking your truth to my soul.
You speak it, because you love me
and want nothing less of our lives together.
Patient and waiting, you give me time
to come around and miss you.
And miss you, I do so often
when we live our separate days.

You are home to me
your voice, your smile, your being.
You are my ground . . .
my reason to stop and think of why
I want to live.

So many times, we've run the race
your hand in mine
one heart cheering for the other.
So many times, we've licked the wounds
and kissed the remnants
of our war torn fleeting triumphs.

Aren't we the lucky ones to have
found the piece that fits?
Aren't we the blessed ones,
entwined like vines around an old oak tree,
dying and being born again so many times together?

Oh, how I love you, Lord of My Heart!
You are my husband, my brother, my dearest friend.
There has been no greater gift in my life.
You were the beginning of all good things to come,
the mating of our spirits
that brought new life, new shining Beings
into this world, our Children
so fragile, so strong, so beautiful . . .
like you, my Precious Love.

Joanne Cucinello

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