Winnie the Pooh Movie Trailer Official (HD)

Nana Loves You: PLEEEZZ!!!

Nana Loves You: PLEEEZZ!!!

PLEEEZZ!!!

This is what I used to tell my kids when they were young, teaching them to cross the street: Stop! . . . look (both ways) . . . and listen. Three important words every child needs to learn very early in life.

STOP! . . . Is that a word anymore? Are parents allowed to yell that in public? When your two year old is trying to poke the dog's eye out with a twig . . . can you quickly shout "NO"?! Or are you now advised to ask your child if you can have the twig . . . PLEEEZZ??
I remember years ago when my youngest son was two and we'd gone to the playground one cloudy day. I was pushing him on a toddler swing next to three other Moms and their little ones. All the tots were giggling and squealing, when all of a sudden it began to lightly rain. As the drops became bigger and wetter, the two Mom's to my left and myself began declaring . . . "Okay, it's time to go!" . . . "Two more pushes" I said to my pouting child and then took him out of the swing as the other two ladies did the same . . . just before the downpour started. But not so for the Mom to the right of us. She was standing and pleading in front of her two year old daughter in the swing . . . as they both were getting drenched . . . "PLEEEZZ, Sweetheart,can't we stop now?" The little tyrant just shook her head "NO!!!" and screamed bloody murder as her Mother attempted to come near the swing. So the woman stood there crying and repeating her need for permission from a two year old.
I wouldn't be surprised if she's still standing there pushing that swing!

Life Is Love

Life is so fragile
we are all waiting to be born
and held forever
in the palm of God

Life is so beautiful
we've been given a heart
that keeps the beat
for all who've come before
and all who have been promised

Life is so magnetic
attracting, holding fast
the good and bad of humankind
the very best and worst of us

Life is purely gift
forgiving one creation, leaping to another
to please the smiling God whose
only dream is love.

The Visit

“I saved these just for you” she said.
“I knew you’d come one day to find them.”
Bending to her bureau drawer,
the moonlight swept across her face
and there ‘neath tattered wings I saw
a form familiar.

She picked up bits of ivory
with her musing fingertips
worn now from the years.
A smile, soft and lovely,
graced her frail and shallow face
and flash-backs
just like shreds of lightening . . .
flooded me.

“It was you, wasn’t it?" I gasped.
“All the while it was you . . .
tiptoeing past my bed
like a thief who’d stolen jewels.
I thought that I was dreaming . . .
swore I saw those wings . . .
yes, and that fairy scent you always wore.
You lived with us back then, Grandma,
and all the while . . . I thought that thief was Mom!”

She bid me, “Close your eyes and open up your hand.”
and as if I were standing small again . . . I anxiously obeyed.
Then she dropped them,
my tiny ivory tooth buds saved since childhood
toppled in the center of my palm,
"treasures, jewels" she said . . . her memories.

And there we lay that evening
recalling heart-soaked lullabies
rocking in the dark
till all the breath of all the years
dissolved into my arms
and the long cord of Grandma's love
~ wrapped my heart with gold.


Joanne Cucinello 2010

We Are Never Alone

This morning, I was remembering a certain Sunday long ago when I was young, sitting in Church and feeling quite alone. The priest that day ended his sermon with these words from Isaiah 49:15 . . . "See, I will not forget you. I have carved you in the palm of my hand."

The image, those words conveyed, gave me such comfort . . . and continues to stay with me throughout my life, especially through difficult times . . . reminding me always of God's faithful love.

It was my Dad who made that image so real for me . . . that day sitting at the kitchen table. He was tired, working three jobs to support his brood of five, all alone, after my mom had left. Dad was an optimist, tomorrow would always be a better day. We were alone together that particular morning. My brothers and sisters were still asleep. I remember asking him if he wished we were rich. He smiled with affection and touched my cheek. Then he took out his worn brown leather wallet and wanted to show me how rich he really was.

Out came five folded little papers he'd kept safe through the years, one small note of affection from each one of us and he let me read them. Dad was all teary eyed and said something like . . . "See, these are my jewels . . . you kids. I'm the richest man on earth." I knew then, that in his own simple way, my Father had carved us in the palm of his hand.

Moments of love, shared at a kitchen table, little notes of affection saved close to the heart . . . small, but present remnants we have each passed on to our own children, in hopes that they will never feel alone, so that even when we're gone . . . . they'll remember how much they were loved.

What Will We Do?

What will we do
to save our children
from the monsters that hide
not under beds
nor in the shadows on the wall
but prowl the streets
and wait for the yellow bus
and that one last lingering child
who dillydallies
jumping over puddles
skipping down the road
singing silly songs
she only learned today?

What will we do
to hold back mothers and fathers
from taking the law into their hands
when we ourselves have decided
to join them?

How do we turn this world
upside down and inside out again
and will it ever, ever end . . .
the sacrifices of the innocents among us?

What will we do
when the seas dry up
and there is no more salt
left for tears?
What will we do
when poets are no longer needed?

Joanne Cucinello 2009