“In every woman there is a Queen. Speak to the Queen and the Queen will answer” Norwegian Proverb
Wonder Women
Feminism?
Never mind the ‘ism’
I’m in it for the idealism
Girl power
Female power
Human power
Heroins
Of different eras
Those afraid
May call you chimeras
Hell raisers
Trailblazers
Your wisdom and insight
Carrying the plight
For those
Who could not fight
Women of power
Hardly the cowards
Quite the women
Of wonder
“It’s all there, written in stone for all of us to read, remaining there for eternity” Gun Roswell
Written, in Stone
The ruins of ye ol’ Acropolis
A place for fun, a place of true knowledge
Decipher the history if you will
The old texts written with such skill
Into to the oldest of stones
Which no one can ever own
“I may be an optimist, but I always pack my wellies”
Ode, to my very own Wellingtons
You beautiful lovelies
My sweet red Wellingtons
Luckily I wasn’t swayed
By those tempting sandals
I would have been betrayed
When the rain came pouring down
Hopeless without my crown
Puddles all over the ground
No safe harbour to be found
Taking a small step
Anticipating the get wet
But to my surprise
You saved my life!
“It’s Monday again, Mundane Monday, yeah that one!” Gun Roswell
Mundane Monday once again
No matter if you are travelling or at home
There is always something mundane going on
During the first day of the week
You might not always really find what you seek
But look around what the world of mundane will bring
You may be surprised of the same old things
Look so much different depending of the mood or light
Some of them coming finally to life
There is art where you least expect it to be adored Just grab your camera and a new attitude and go to explore
It may be Monday, that one specific day
We all love so much to hate, well, at least of it debate
Just call it the beginning of an interesting week to enjoy
Because Friday will get here sooner than you have time to shout: “Ahoy!”
“Take a load off on a Sunday on the Green Seat, even if it might not fit” Gun Roswell
Green and a Seat
The Sunday is once again upon us, like some lurking fiend waiting for the bus.
It is a slow and gentle time, which for most can be simply good and all fine.
But for those with a permanent fire lit up their asses, it can feel like harassment.
As they need to calm the hell down and if possible, take it easy and finally, sit down!
Something, which may never become easy for them, but then again, we are not all built the same.
Still, if and when the decision is made, to take a break for once and be all the same.
Then take a seat, take a load off, stop the huff and puff and simply enjoy the calm day.
After all, tomorrow, just may, be filled with all kinds of things to sort out and forget the play.
So, maybe Sunday wasted, wasn’t all that wasted, rather a moment where inhaling was allowed.
And for that very reason, simply laying about, can always be a good thing, for recharging.
Even if it is done on a way too small seat, painted all in green.
“The cats can ignore anything and anyone, they’re just built that way and god do I envy them!“ Gun Roswell
Chicken pass, Cat ignore
The chicken kept on clucking as it was forward strutting, trying oh so very hard catch the attention, of the snoozing feline friend. Alas, the cat, had decided to not to talk with their friend, the chicken, rather keep on their supposed napping there in the corner of the street, where everyone could clearly see, that the cat, was simply ignoring the bird passing by. Why you may ask because it was well known, the two of them were friends, so why not say hello, as this was their usual MO. But not today, as the cat had decided that it wasn’t going to bother at all, as the cat was in one of their moods once again, something the chicken friend knew quite well, and now, as it had made the try of being friendly and getting completely ignored, by the cat whom supposedly snored the day away, so why would the chicken bother further, as knowing it was not she who was the fowl here rather the cat, being the one aptly named foul.
“Nostalgia, is the best word to describe these two dwellings“ Gun Roswell
The old cottage on the island lies
They are rusted and quite busted, neglected and rejected, those dwellings from the past, which no one thought would until this century last, but how wrong they were as those houses are still here, and will most likely be long after we are all gone, remaining strong.
They might not look like much, maybe needing a slight touch up, but once you get inside, you cannot help but smile, as despite the rough outlook of the houses, the insides are far from louse, but rather cozy and warm, keeping you safe and sound through any imaginable storm.
So, if ever in doubt, when wandering out there, on an island with none too much to share, at least not in looks and on the surface of it, barren by default, without a fault of its own, but of nature without much going on, the houses will still give you shelter without faltering.
Next time you may want to reconsider, judging a book or any other by just looking at the cover, don’t forget there is so much more beneath of the simple looks, and yes, it applies too so many other things as well than just books.
“If only I could fly away, like the birds do. At least, sometimes. Maybe I would even return? Maybe, if I felt like it.” Gun Roswell
Fly far away
The large size feathery bird at flight, no matter morning, noon, late day or even a very late night
Flapping its tall wings and then without any kind of word, towards the skies it softly swings
Taking to flight, with the might of the blowing winds and then disappearing into the clouds
Because that is where the bird is the most safe, almost as of covered in an invisible shroud
Wherever it does go, as it takes on the slow but guided route, without as much of a shout
Only the mighty bird knows, and it has not told even one soul of its plans, as it now stands
There is no way to follow, but even if the plans sound totally hollow, there is an agenda there
As on this blue sphere, the option of coming back to whence one came from is always there
So, if you are fond of watching where this bird will land, just remained quite still on the strand
And maybe, around and around the bird will fly and then in the end come by to the place it sent
“Time flies when you are having fun and even if you are not, so there is that” Gun Roswell
Floating by in time
Time, is of the essence many say, time is going by so fast, they also claim and well, I have to agree to that sentiment, for you see, I have been sitting here, watching it pass me by, or in this case, floating by, in the form of a sailing boat, going oh so very slow.
It is a fun past time, time, yes, yes it’s that kind of a rhyme, but time is so much more than that, just the simply ticking off the clock, which I hope will never stop, even if it goes past me so quickly and that should make me feel sickly.
But, as it is, there is no use of fighting this thing called time, unless you have a degree in physics or a machine which will make you fly, backwards and forwards, whichever way you might want to experience, but if you get a chance to do it, it will certainly be different.
So, as I sit here, watching time itself, pass me gently by, I am kinda feeling fine, but hey, if I could turn back some of that time, well, guess I would?
“The rain heels all, at least, that is what they say, right?” Gun Roswell
Covered in rain drops
The rain fall, finally covered it all, the skies, the ground, the walls, trees and the flowers all
As soon as had started, falling at a high rate, which did not last too long and then it was all gone
Leaving behind, droplets of rain, hanging onto to the leaves and the buds just the same
The rain, never discriminating, only leaving the stains, for a while until all going down the drain
But then some of the pebbles of water, were still clinging on, as if proving they were totally strong
Wanting to stay for a moment longer, than those already gone, that they were special among
Those few remaining, but then again, when the sun finally would be shining, they too would dry
And up to the heavens in a foggy vapour they would fly, so, hanging on for a moment longer?
Well, maybe there was a point to it, but after all was said and done and up came the burning sun
The droplets did not last, but went out with a blast, the circle of nature somewhat complete
Rantings Of A Third Kind 