Left hanging 

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“A top of the world ma!?” Gun Roswell

Left hanging 

I was put here on total display Much to my own undesire and dismay
Nobody bothered to ask me if I wanted to stay 

So here I just hang until the end of the day 

I am not discarded nor broken Nor am I anyone’s special token
But I surely used to be for spoken 

Dunno no, if that applies anymore, just hoping 

So some one please come and get me
You can ride me even to the sea
My pedals and saddle are still complete
So hope on and let me drive you easily 

I am not a doll’s head 

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“I am not a crook’s head” Futurama 

I am not a doll’s head 

I may be plastic
Even quite, elastic
And that itself is absolutely fantastic
My head can spin at three hundred and sixty
And my face too is quite nifty
My age can be one or even fifty
You can play with me
Braid my hair ever so neatly
Even paint my face discreetly 

But there is one thing you must understand
As here, without any feet I still take my stand
Even would wave them in the air if i had any hands 

But none of that I now can 

Still, one last thought to share:
I, am not, a fucking doll’s head! 

Arachnid

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“Creepy crawlers about” Gun Roswell

Arachnid 

Laying about, in the scorching sun
Just to piss you off and for my personal fun 

My four legs spread, across the sun bed
I am here to stay, much to your dismay 

A real ugly creepy crawly you might think
But before into despair you totally sink 

Let me tell you one simple thing
I have as much right to do my own creepy thing
As you have tanning your fat shiny skin
So let’s both just simply agree 

That neither of us will pay any dues or fees as we stay here for free
Then letting each other to be just here 

For I am sure there is enough room for both of us on this cool blue sphere
No harm no fowl no disagreements 

And when the time is up and sun has set
Let’s ignore each other and go our separate ways instead 

All in one shot 

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“It’s a quick tour today” Gun Roswell

All in one shot 

When travelling on a tightly scheduled course
And time is a valuable and limited resource 

Then spotting something so good as a prelude
Making you think that you’ll be able make it after all on this latitude 

As always on a trip like this
I am running around like a crazy git
Looking for all and everything Trying to catch at least one special thing 

But as it always turns out to be 

There is so much more to see Than any given time frame will allow
Whether the cool car or neighbours cow 

What kind luck would it take If i could it all on just on single shot make
But then what would i do with all the space
On the memory card I especially bought to capture all from this place?! 

Airport hustle 

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“Doing the airport hustle”Gun Roswell

Airport hustle 

A very long and exhausting trip ahead
Wishing you had stayed home instead
Sitting at the airport cafeteria sipping coffee
Wishing this time for something stronger in front of me

But alas nothing of that nature is served in this establishment Trying hard to figure out away from this torment 

Then a small group of people pass me by In what looks like a conga line
First reaction is to think they are really high But as the ask to join with a big smile 

Who am i some fun to deny? 

So, here I am doing the airport hustle And forgotten is all the other hassle! 

Waters Edge 

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“Water is refreshing, either drink or shower in it!” Gun Roswell

Waters Edge 


You can clearly hear the roar

From the simple water fall

Wherefrom the fresh water pours

Dip in your toe

Feel the tickling foam

Thinking, to the beach roam 

The idea of cooling water

All over your heated body

Quickly, on the street storming 


The ocean beckons

When the dawn reckons

Finding your place, in mere seconds

Sandy shores, for the eyes sore 

The waters, hitting the rocks, soar

All you need is a boat with oars

Spend a day or a short while

The scenery is sure to make you smile

And only thing wasted is time


Waves washing to the shore 

Like in some ancient lore

Watching, feeling, this feeling

Nothing to be bought from a store

Woody (Haiku)

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“A bike of wood?”But, can you peddle it?” Gun Roswell

Woody (Haiku)

City bike street side stands

Made for rental and out of wood

Ride it fast and slow 

Written on the run

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“A poem doesn’t have to rhyme right? I mean it’s just fine, with words after another?” Gun Roswell

Written on the run

I wrote this thing on the run

So it may not be that much fun

It may not even rhyme

You see I lost my glasses and cannot see too fine

But as the good doctor prescribed

A poem a day would keep me just fine

So I need to scribble what ever pops into my mind

Even if it is without any kind of rhyme

For who am I

To argue against a professional

Otherwise it would take some kind of confessional

To put all out there

Which inside my head fares

So no this little ditty is totally done

Forgive me for any and all intended puns

I simply could not resist

Otherwise this poem would not exist

And so, I am quite finished (and Finnish)

Just had to put that out there

To excuse all them typos you might at glare!

Yellow Bikes

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The yellow bikes are beckoning for a ride” Gun Roswell 

Yellow Bikes

The city’s yellow painted two wheeled drives

Came out with the spring and with a great smile

The brightness competing with only the sun

As the bright yellow bikes stand there waiting for some fun

The passers by soon will get some ideas

Hoping on them and riding away with smiles

And as the day progresses on in time

The bike park will soon be empty on the dime

All the yellow bikes now filling both parks and the streets 

As all them riders are following that ride worthy beat

Loud ruckus like laughter filling the waves of air

As nothing and no one can deny this bike ride  filled cheer

The silent stones which can tell it al

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“It might be written in stone, but as long as you can read it, then totally do!“ Gun Roswell

The silent stones which can tell it all

There is hidden wisdom, right there in plain sight, written on the hardest of stones

By those who lived their very lives and have eves since gone beyond the rim forth

Wherever you look, the piles of discarded stones from that past, the words were carved 

Perhaps by poor artists starved after having their say, right there, out there, on display

But if you choose to read said writing, and take it to your heart, well, it is really up to you

The choice to follow the perhaps wise words, from those gone before, maybe you should

Because history always keeps on repeating itself, and learning from the past mistakes

Well, you might be better off with the knowledge what did go wrong so long ago

And then apply to your current day life and if you are lucky enough, maybe, you won’t

Be the one to stumble up front, rather the one surviving the bad times and beyond

Just saying there are wise words out there written in stone, so read them, you cannot go wrong!