Inside the minds of most writers the same questions must rotate on a regular basis. These include: – Am I a good writer? – Am I good enough to write …
Why The Writing Validation You Are Searching For Might Never Be Found #AmWriting
“The cat on the table top sat, just because it was there and totally flat” Gun Roswell
Cat on the table top
The lager grey striped cat
On the small table top sat
Not because it was bored
Or thought, it was a chore
To stay there like a pretty
Statue of a kind of a ditty
But just because it could
Even though, it may not should
But that wasn’t really a question
Because this cat did not do suggestions
It had a mind of its very own
From the day borne until grown
Knowing well its own position
It then made the ultimate decision
Stay there on that very table
Each and ever day for a variable
Amount of time of chosen
By itself and not of those
Whom had taken care of him
Ever since a little kitten thin
But being the king or the cat of the castle
Well, that was not a question to answer
Only the mere truth uttered
By the keeper of him so enamoured
Keep in sitting on the table top
Cat of grey colours on the dot
And you will become the ultimate pop
Star of this castle and the written word!
“Sunrise, painted all the fiery colours, across the visible horizon. As I watched and clearly could smell, the odours, of the burning skies“ Gun Roswell
From sunrise until sunset, I keep watching the sky
The darkest of nights, was slowly, but surely, loosing, the ongoing fight
Against the all high and mighty rising sun, already set on conquering the skies
Alas this battle, was never, ever fought, with conventional swords or knives
But still, constantly present, eternally really, and certainly, a never ending plight
It wasn’t a bad thing though, for those of us, stuck here on the planets below
The ever changing skies, where half of the time it was dark and half of it was light
Helped us on the low, to plan our boring daily lives, divided, by amount of work and sleep
And maybe, to add there a slight slice, of something a little bit of fun, in between
So each and ever single day, the sun, the moon, the stars, in the skies kept on their play
For us mere mortals down here, to enjoy the spectacle each and every day over the skies on display
And if we are to be lucky, the sun light will never fade away completely
Just for the night time, when all of us need some time for sleeping
“The island in the middle of nowhere, turned out to have so much more to give, than just a deserted beach side view“ Gun Roswell
Monumental on an Island so Blue
The small airplane, slowly landed, onto a narrow strip
As of this day, it is the start, of this one, and special trip
It was not expected, nor was it, really ever planned
But soon enough, the expedition will start, of this unknown land
A tiny island of a thing, was that a wish or a plea?
What on earth, could there really be, to see?
Jungle with buzzing insects, a small hut and no running water?
That were the best guesses, for this, well eternal explorer
Still, the hopes were up in the air
When entering on the promised fare
As this was some much deserved time off
From the daily huff and puff
But what then turned out to be
Anything and everything dull and bleak
Was an expedition, of profound proportions
Something not soon to be forgetting
The island, was anything but lacking
The options multiple with all amounts of trekking
Views and vistas filling the eyes and mind
There really was no other place like this kind
Monuments, art and history, and not forgetting the rest of it
Architecture, animals and people, never anything simple
Colour and nature, lush would be the most apt description
All of it so plentiful, the cameras memory filling as did mine
What was supposedly a dull few days of relaxation
Turned out to be so much more, on this little island
Where the time on strong and fast wings flew
On this, totally monumental even in the colour, of true blue
“The old song, day and night, comes to mind, when I look at the captures from my holiday past, yeah, that one too, did not long last, but alas, maybe next time, it will be much longer” Gun Roswell
Day and Night
Days thankfully long and filled with so much sunshine
That lazy me, can be splayed across the subbed ever so fine
The clouds above practically none existent and quite fluffy too
As there is nothing else to see above there except skies of blue
Well, maybe just another airplane landing bringing more of us
Whom are finally allowed to take a vacation on this same spot
Where the days meet the night, without any kind of fight
Where nothing is done except leisure just for the sake of pleasure
The long days, and short nights, spent, lazily under the sun
Or those with courage, hauling their asses to the beach
Where all kinds of waterspouts is just in a short reach
Describing this time out of the every day grind as everything fun
Hell yeah, day or night, it just is so unexpected but totally right
When there is little or nothing else to do around the poolside
Except spend it on yourself and those you care for in life
“Ain’t nothing wrong in eating some berries from the trees, now filled with nutritions, without fees, with greetings from Mother Nature, cheers!“ Gun Roswell
Nurture by Nature
Sometimes, it is good to let someone else, provide
For the all the nurture needed these days, just to get by
It may come in a form of something totally unexpected
From a place even, long since forgotten and neglected
But a glance outside from the window, is taking a turn slow
As the totally jungle like backspace of a yard, seemingly. sits still
Summer time long since forgotten, but memories there lingering
Of the green, live and lush now turned to burnt like bush
Alas one good thing turned out from this, sort of a messy mush
As finally daring out there, to the !great unknown”, to venture
Hoping this would not turn into some kind of disappearance adventure
Then what do these tired old eyes so gladly spy
But tress filled with berries, the whole yard, gone positively wild
Green, blue, red, all one needs to do is pick them up and get fed
The tastes varying from sour to sweet, soon enough, digging in deep
One basket after another getting filled, to the very hilt
Running out spaces, as so full are all the before empty places
With gifts of plenty, as with courtesy, provided by Mother Nature
“Staring at my own toes, for hours on end, no, I am not bored!” Gun Roswell
Are those, really, my toes?
I keep staring at them, for hours on end
But they never change, always looking the same
I tried some polish, various kinds of colours
But the crow toes, still looked pretty lame
Black, narrow, could not even catch a sparrow
Some days, I just ask myself
Why the hell do I even bother?
But then, after some rain
As I once again stand on the table so plain
Even if some people, would share the odd fry
The days I am too lazy to catch anything on the fly
I tell myself, this is not so bad
So, I really should stop feeling totally sad
Because despite by crow feet, dressed neat
All black you see, heck yeah, I look fucking cool!
“The week ends, on a Sunday, a silent or a stormy one, that is up to you, really” Gun Roswell
Just a Sunday
Early morning, birds outside the window screaming
Yes, it is definitely a Sunday, no peace for the one in dismay
The mere thought of calmness felt tingling, just last night while beckoning
For the end of the week to be arising, the one day for smiling
Alas, it was for nought, not at all what I had thought
A quiet day, seated, just, by my good ol’ self
But then, the doorbell rang, and someone in the shower sang
The kids in the streets, yelling bloody murder
Even if it was just a game of something blurred out there
Then the phones, yes plural, went off
All of them, there, on the table in a neat row
Always someone out there wanting something to be done
Just because, hey, it was your day off, right? Not reserved for fun!
As the morning turned to noon, which by the way, came too soon
The after hours after that, turned out to be just as bad
Finally the evening lurked around the corner
I saw the sun starting to set, just looking out of border
The whole day of Sunday spent, not in peace and quiet
No, but like a circus or some other type of crowded event
I know I should not be complaining, just and simply explaining
Never plan ahead too much, because you’ll end up doing much too much
Real change, enduring change, happens one step at a time.—Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg, US Supreme Court Lawyer, teacher, wife, mother, grandmother,…
Thanks for all the giant steps, #RBG. 15 March 1933 – 18 September 2020
“Keep the world in a jar, and the galaxy in a coffee cup” Gun Roswell
The Galaxy in a Coffee Cup
At first, there was, the darkness only
The light, a mere speck, trying to come forth boldly
The universe, just beginning to form
A calm sense all around, like before the storm
And then, without warning, all hell broke loose
Because someone, apparently, had forgotten to turn on the snooze
The coffee maker huffing and puffing, like it was snoring
And in the process, pilling the dark liquid, all over the flooring
For some, this might have been the perfect sign
That all, in the universe, was anything but fine
But for others, it merely meant, that the coffee was spilt
And there would be some effort to clean up the dirt
Alas, the old adage, keeping oneís eggs all in one basket
Might have simply gotten blown the electrical casket
And the lesson learned here might be, that keeping the galaxy
In just one single cup, might not be the best choice up
Or then, just simply, drink your coffee when it’s ready
And do not forget to switch off the machine making it!
Rantings Of A Third Kind 