Reaching for the moon from the tallest tree top

Posted on by

“As the moon lit up the dark night skies, and I could finally walk without stumbling on the narrow path“ Gun Roswell

Reaching for the moon from the tallest tree top

The full moon, hovered, high above all, in the dark night sky
It was so brightly lit, that it totally looked, like a shiny ball of a light
Alluring and completely inviting, as it was, with all of its luminescence
I was so tempted, to catch it, and the only option for me presented
Was, to climb up, really high, and up the tallest of the trees in sight
And then, if luck would have it, I could ever so easily reach out
And simply, capture, the brightly lit ball, in to, my very own pouch
But also knowing very well, this trip, would not be without an ouch

Finally, daring, with some hesitation, to venture up the sturdy tree trunk
I knew then and there, that the option, of this very mission, to totally flunk
Was not an option at all, rather a the commissioned order, ever so tall
And that was, to capture the mighty and bright moon, once and for all
Alas, the forces that be, were definitely, not on the side of little ol’ me
As the higher I climbed the tall tree, the more out of reach the moon seemed to be
In the end, I reached the very top, and as I dared to gaze up
The moon, was higher than even before and no matter what

I was not able, to even reach it
So, that, in essence, was simply it!
Remaining only, a tall tale of an endeavour
With the completion time set, to never

Three times, standing tall

Posted on by

“Good things, always come, in threes, at least, the three tall standing windmills” Gun Roswell

#greece #rhodes #mandrakiharbour #windmills #seaside #travel

Three times, standing tall

“There is nothing magical to the number of three”
Some one supposedly wise, once told me
But, here is the thing you see, where I so totally, disagree

For a fact, I myself, do know this one simple rule
That good things, or even nice once, come in three for sure
Whether it be, a special on chocolate bars at the store that rule

Or a good series of books and even, the holiday time in weeks
Three, is totally the number that you want to seek
And if for that advice, you want to call me a total geek

Then, so be it, because, well, I simply love, the perfect number three
Maybe, you will too, if you just, take a chance and let yourself it feel
The enlightenment, which this then follows, well, may or may not set you free

But what ever you believe, hear, see, or even do
You so have the power, to do the do and choose
The perfectly rounded and open hearted glue

Yeah, you guessed it, it is so, the number of them all
The belle of the proverbial and even true ball
Number of three, it has the world and even more!

Sleep, is so overrated

Posted on by

“I am so damned tired, but I am trying, to stay awake despite of it“ Gun Roswell

Sleep, is so overrated

I wish, oh how I so truly wish, I could sleep, like some of the more exotic fish
In perpetual motion, never, ever giving up, on the good kind of commotion
Or then at least, like the famous Nikola Tesla, with only two hours, of daily sleep
And then I could be, totally inventive and oh so creative, the rest of the time
Because, or despite of being tired or even sick or simply surviving, off the grind
But, then again, it still seems, that even, if I could less time on rest spend
I would have difficulties, for all the great things I would want to do, to lend
Even if all the precious time in the world, onto my waiting lap would be hurled

So, why, oh why, I am complaining again, you may me ask?
Can’t I just simply, strip down some or more, off the planned tasks?
The simple answer to that question, or then again, it is really not
Could just be, that, I am, in all honesty, afraid, that if, I would ever stop
I would never be able, to start over, again
And then, on what, would I my time then spend?

Under cover, under the parasol, under the sun

Posted on by

“Hiding, my face and my self, from the bright sun, under the sheltering parasol“ Gun Roswell

Under cover, under the parasol, under the sun

From the deepest recesses, of this, these days virtual travellers own mind
Thinking of, all of the warm summers passed, and always with a big smile
When lying, on the sandy beach, everything off, completely, out of reach
Only thinking of, what and then when would be the time for the next eat
Alas, not everything around and under this scorching sun is a total slack
As swimming, walking, writing and reading, is part of each days list of tasks
But the one thing, even enough sun block can win, is the one simple fact
That too much sun, can give a dweller out and about each day an attach
Of the said sun and that cannot be too much fun, so best bet to do to avoid
The trauma causing the traveller to get annoyed, is to stay, under the parasol
Greatly protecting any harmful rays of the on top hovering bright ball, the sol
Besides, there are lots of things to do there, without the need to squint the eyes
Board games, books, and maybe, even the odd iPad to track, some of the lives
Left behind in the homeland, as the traveller, is on a holiday, for the duration
And, if and when asked, they would simply answer without any kind of hesitation
“I have earned this leave, and will stay here, until I totally need to leave!”

Sunday at the Beach

Posted on by

“A calm, cloudy, and sunny Sunday, what a contradiction indeed!” Gun Roswell

Sunday at the Beach

When the Sunday time, loudly, its present chimed
We ran, like we were on fire, out there, from the dire
Into the open wild nature, with colours so lush
There really was no need for any kind of rush
To enjoy the art work devised by our beloved Mother Nature
Was there for everyone to see, without any kind of fee

But we ran, as fast as any one can, really
For you see, there was somewhere else we wanted to be, really
Beside the calm and cooling waters, fooling around like a bunch of sea otters
We made our way, discarding all clothing, falling where ever they may
Splashing into the soft waves, letting the healing waters save
Ourselves in the process, as this was the place for us, the total bliss

We played and frolicked, until the darkness descended we stayed
Then only, reaching for the softest of sands, lending each other a hand
To find the discarded garments, a little dirty, maybe even sandy, was a mild statement
But nobody cared, as it had all been time so well spent
Out here, on the beach, on this summer’s Sunday we had reached
And if we were to be lucky, maybe next weekend, we could come back again

                   

VICTORIOUS – from the changing palette blog

Posted on by

Congratulations to the new President and Vice President Elect of the United States. This is a good day. Victorious indeed.

VICTORIOUS

Grey Cat

Posted on by

“Celebrate the day of the cat, on a Saturday at that, but then again, every day, is Caturday for me” Gun Roswell

Grey Cat

The suave and sophisticated, completely, grey coated cat
Was on her way towards the marketplace, with a slow scat
She was the queen of her street, this busy, oneway leap
But no matter how short or tall, this was her domain, after all

Greeting each and every passer by, with a loud and proud meow
Getting patted along the way, even some treats, on the play
When the afternoon clock finally beckoned, she was there reckoning
To catch some fresh fish, from the sellers giving her the dish

Why, you may ask, was this grey coated cat, so completely sure
Well, her main goal, may not have been as pristine and pure
But, keeping all the mice and other crawly critters at bay
Was her job now, so knowing that, she fully accepted her pay

She trotted down, keeping an eye on the eternal crowds
And when spotting a shop with those smelly types of crops
She was noticed and royally rewarded, for all the hard work
As no rodent was insight, and that brought forth big smiles

The shop owners of the small village, were for ever grateful
Of this small and furry feline, always on the hunt and prowl
Keeping their habitat completely pleasant and germ free
And she only demanding, such a small and easy to pay fee

Fabulous Friday

Posted on by

“It’s 4:58 on Friday afternoon. Do you know where your margarita is?”
― Amy Neftzger

Fabulous Friday

Happy Friday
To One and All!
If I will
Have my way
You will all
Have a ball!

That’s all
For now at least
Go, have a feast
It’s Friday after all!

Clapback!

Posted on by

“When the haters united of the world, attack, there is only one thing you can do, and that is, to simply, clapback!” Gun Roswell (as stolen from the gorgeous RuPaul)

Clapback!

Honest, I was truly, trying, so hard, to keep it all in
But, deep, deep down, from the within
I could feel it, surely, but so slowly, starting
And then, I knew I was so close, to snap and to

Clapback!

The voice, from the inside are letting
Me know, without uncertainty, that they were begging
For me to finally react, without forever fretting
Alas, now, all, I from now on, want to do is to

Clapback!

I am in such, an inner turmoil
My guts and even my throat, about to boil
If I forever try to keep, this churning, of a roil
Without, a quick and snap release for a

Clapback!

I know, I know, that I, was supposed to be
That cool kind of nice gal, you always see
In the adverts of all the big movie screens
But, I am really not, so just stop and let me

Clapback!

As my mind, has totally broken free
I can now clearly, all those “things” see
And without any hesitation or urge to feel
That there is something holding me back for a

Clapback!

I just want to constantly, scream and shout
What this, all of this frustration, was all about
For all you self designated haters always so loud
As this time, I will not stay silent, and just have to

Clapback!

Blue seating, in a far away land

Posted on by

“When the traveller is weary, she takes a seat wherever she can manage” Gun Roswell

Blue seating, in a far away land

The long time and now weary, traveller, had finally made it through
To this, far away and strange land filled with all things cool…

Well, at least, imagined the place, from the recesses of the mind
What ever was there, a faint memory even, at this point, was just fine
Because, as it mostly is done these days, all around the world
In reality, the only place you could totally off to get hurled
Would be that odd space, between your own sofa and the fridge
Never mind, going outside and crossing over, say, a tall bridge!

But, as usual, I tend to digress, so without further stress
Back to the topic of travelling, especially one done, in an armchair
In the comfort, of your own small or it might even big, lair
The images of beaches running on end, with blue skies and sun shines
Where each and every single day, life running, to its own accord
Never mind, that while, in a foreign land, for you, no chores!

Well, that is, since usually time away spent, is supposed to be some kind of holiday
When one actually, and physically, goes away and, in another and most likely rented home stays

But, enough of the commentary, as this poem is not going so greatly
As it was supposed to be about seating and travelling and going somewhere else, maybe eating
In a restaurant of choosing, yourself completely in the exotic foods emerging
And for that, picking up a respite, like a bench or a chair or similar seating
Then letting someone else do the serving and finally, after a moment, relaxing
Because hey, you just got out here, in this great place, where time stands still

So, for now, the virtual traveller has stopped, in her tracks, taking a breath deep
And finally letting out some of the slack on the chosen, blue and cool looking respite