John Rouleau

Sette poemi

 

 

Lip Service

 

Please don't tell me
you are a Christian,
Muslim, or a Jew.

 

Show me.

 

A ticket
to heaven
is not purchased
with our lips

 

nor with bombs
nor Kalashnikovs

 

but with our backs
and with our hands.

 

 

 

Time

 

Of this

I am certain -

 

time has its way

with flesh, whittling

us to the quick,

until all that is left

 

is soul.

 

 

 

Dream

 

our lives
flash
like lightning we're here

 

and then we're gone
to some great beyond
tissue thin

 

and just as fragile
we shimmer

 

glimmers of what
we might become, of what
we are

 

each of us
a tiny
time-released atom
in the swirling
body of the wondrous
whole
it seems

 

form
born of love and magic
children

 

of our maker's
dream

 

 

 

Lost and Found

 

I get 
so lost
in inner space.

Thanks for keeping
a light on 
for me,
and 

that smile 
right there
on
your beautiful face.

 

 

 

Journey

 

The journey

inward

is far

more meaningful

than miles

covered over land.

 

 

 

Fog

 

Fog wraps us 
in a mist blanket 
and suspends us 
in diffuse light.

 

Three chatting Chinese 
ladies slip
into the mist...

 

and disappear.

 

 

 

Untitled

 

A granite face 
smiles in stone 
forever.