“Take a seat in the sun, lift your face towards the rays, it’s a holiday after all!” Gun Roswell
Moving ever forward
Just looking for a seat
I found one, made of wood
Maybe it wasn’t hard
Rather suitably good
Too soft for a fit
But yeah, I chose to sit!
“Just a little help is all you can give to someone in need” Gun Roswell
There was something very interesting definitely there, on the window sill
As the two small size cats, kittens really, now on the floor, circled around, at will
Trying to get up, with still growing but short legs still, was quite the feat tough
And even trying to very hard to hop, hop, hop off of, the very flat ground
It seemed impossible to get up there, where something great was to be found
But neither of them succeeding, on their own, so what to do now, they frowned
Then a thought, came to the others mind, maybe working together was fine
Even if they both competed with each other for every single little thing in kind
But this time, maybe it was enough, if one of them reached on the very top
And then the other would know too, what it was so interesting up and out there
Which was intruding their very own domain, and threatening, just of the same
And then the smaller one pushed the bigger one, with a huff, on to the very ledge
Urging him to seek, search and then, to destroy, what ever it was disturbing their day
As the bigger cat got up, he turned back with a huff and a puff, as the only thing
Was a small spider, weaving its web while singing, and now already out of reach
For the small cat and his friend, whom, so eagerly had for big game tried to seek
“What a total bust!” The striped cat told the black cat, “Just a small spider, alas!”
“Yeah, all for nothing, that huffing and puffing!” The black cat told the striped cat. “But when we tell this story to the others, it was some kind of a big elephant or tiger, which we fought really hard against.” She then added.
“Agreed!” Said the striped cat, “And next time, I will let you be the one to go see.” He stated as the two of the strolled back to the litter, to tell a great story of two hunters, they were, slaying wild game without hesitance or even one flicker.
“Thank goodness it’s Friday finally!” Gun Roswell
Friday, at last, this week, could not have gone any faster
Faster, as I very well know, will this day end too
Too, and then “boohoo” I cry, but hey, that is just fine
Fine, as I know, there will be another Friday
Friday, which unfortunately only comes, one a week
Week, is such a dreary measure
Measure, like a year or even a hundred
Hundred, is the number of the percent
Percent, which I always give this day
Day, unlike so many others consists of hope
Hope, so hard to find these days
Days, gone by, but hopefully plenty ahead
Ahead, like the word hope, wish, what ever
Ever, I wish Friday here to stay
Stay, please stay, I totally pray
Pray, like you are a deity or something so great
Great, better than anything else
Else, is where I usually am
Am, exist, being, living, solely for Friday
Friday, oh how I love you
You, this, feeling which you can only bring
Bring little ol’ me, each and every week
Week, oh, were are back to this again
Again, and in circles I run until
Until I come to the end of this poem
Poem, so yeah, guess I have a thing for Fridays then!
“It’s that time of the week, the time for a throwback, waaaay back!” Gun Roswell
How was it, way back then?
When all you had, was so much time to spend?
All those big plans ahead of you
Choices to be made, were more than a few
The image, in front of you now, might be a little faded
But did you manage to do, all those things back then stated?
“A hike up the mountain so tall, to observe history in action” Gun Roswell
Basking in the sun
Athens, Acropolis
A place of fun
A place of knowledge
Climbing up the mountain
Looking for the fountain
Of wisdom and history
Shrouded in mystery
Walking in the footsteps
Of the ancient Greeks
But, watch your steps
On the narrow streets
Once reaching the top
The effort but one hop
The view of awe and beauty
You know it really was your duty
“Something about travelling and not on a Monday?” Gun Roswell
The days come along one by one (usually the way they do)
It’s almost like singing a song (verse by verse moving along)
Today it’s Tuesday, when only yesterday it was Sunday (that’s how I recall it)
And now, it’s getting late, no matter how I hesitate, tomorrow will be here, I can feel it near (What do you know: It’s Wednesday and midweek, what a geek!)
Guess I need to stop worrying about Mondays anyway (Oh, did you worry before? Did not know that…)
Since the days keep on changing without my aid (Yeah, need a time machine for that!)
Why worry about some day, when there is always the next day (True, do like the Spanish do, manana!)
So, on this day of …ahem, Tuesday, I swear, not to worry about another damned day!!! (Liar! You know this promise or what ever is as good as the up and down going fever! You will never keep it, trust me, I know shit!)
Bring it on Tuesday, Wednesday and even Friday (Don’t forget Monday and something else!)
Every day, from this day on is my day (note to writer, how many times can you get away with the word “day”?)
I will start appreciating the here and now (Yeah, really! Like to see that)
And then, if not, nobody have a cow! (We already did! It’s there in the backyard!)
“The Monday, the one day, that can easily be spent, in the colour of Monochrome“ Gun Roswell
The Monday mood, in grey as per usual, spending time, under the doorway open wide, an archway they say, as past most of them sway, clearly, the news, of this day, today, being a Monday, has not reach their busy minds, but here, regular like clockwork, the chime indicated, it was that time, the start for a week, for those whom something new seek, but the grey overtones, make the day rather bleak, and so, hiding under the archway, is the best bet at least.
But there is beauty in the monochromatic world too, even as seen from below an obstructed view with some kind of a Monday hating attitude, as the vivid shades of greys keep chaining with the time of the day, the lighting, the shadows and all the other whatnots, but most of all, hiding under the way of arching rock, ain’t too bad after the initial shock, as it will be only for the one day, the day of the week, nobody really admits, is the crappiest of them all, but hey, stay low, as tomorrow, will be another Tuesday again.
“Any seat is a good one in the midst of all the heat to find just for a brief of a respite” Gun Roswell
A single seat?
Or one designed for two?
In this heat!
Who would ever want to be glued
To someone else’s skin
With clothes this thin???
“Thar be black cats in here!” Gun Roswell
Camouflage
Now you see me
Now you don’t
I am completely
Disappearing from sight
I am the shadow
I am the whisper
Well, maybe just my whisker
Can you see me
Now?
Disappearing into the crowd?
Riding into the sunset, it’s such a cliche, but looks cool in the pix at least when doing it the proper way, on a horse, just like in the movies, as you should!“ Gun Roswell
The night falls and time stalls. The soft sand on the beach giving a perfect path for the hard hoofs to thread on making their impressions to last at least a moment before the waves hit the shores adding to the lore. The last rays of the sun trying to catch as moving towards the very west, but that is just the small part of this mission, into perfect bliss. Which we were told does truly exist. And this adventure is about finding out, whether it is the truth or not.
Riding well into the darkness, just as the stars are starting sparkling, feeling like royalty or at least some sort of leisure people. The ride going slow, with several of us in tow, but it’s just the flow of this ride of the night. Catching all those hidden treasures lurking in the dark shadows, as the ride continues towards the sacred meadows, the watery kind, hoping that one place of peace to find, at least on this calm night, where the winds have stopped blowing and totally now flowing with the universe, without reverse.
Rantings Of A Third Kind 