John Rouleau

Poetry

 

 

 

Me, haiku

 

me, stitched together

from tatters like a rag doll

by loves' healing hands.

 

*

 

what could never be

slowly dies a quiet death

unknown but to me

 

*

 

Like treading water...

I’m a helicopter baby.

Me, grabbing for air.

 

*

 

Lovely owls

Calling

From my rooftop

Is that you

Bidding good night

To each other

Or

Good morning

To me?

 

*

 

the sound of rain

sneaks up on me

unexpectedly

in a drought year

 

 

 

John Vincent Rouleau was raised on the banks of the great Saint Croix River which borders Minnesota and Wisconsin for some distance. He currently resides in the San Francisco Bay Area. By day, he is a Silicon Valley high-tech executive. Mr. Rouleau is also an artist; he writes and paints as time allows. He can be reached at Rouleau.john@gmail.com