Vonda N. McIntyre (August 28, 1948 – April 1, 2019) passed away yesterday from pancreatic cancer. McIntyre, best known for her Hugo and Nebula-winning SF novel Dreamsnake (1978) and her Star Trek Novels and film adaptations (1981-2004) (bibliography), published her first SF story “Breaking Point” in in the February 1970 issue of Venture Science Fiction […]
“It’s calm today, in the summer day” Gun Roswell
Harbour
A slow boat awaits me, finally setting me free
Boarding, without a haze, as at the quiet waters, I gaze
Destination, unknown, as from this place, I have overgrown
Walking to my seat, looking forward to the breeze
As the sails are hoisted, I am second guessing my choices
Alas, they soon fade, as I settle in to the laze
Of becoming the passenger, on this journey ahead
Eyes wide open, I stare at the great ocean
Not knowing, is the hardest part, but if I play it smart
What ever the future, I think I can make without any sutures
Face in a smile, shedding the vile, yes, it has been a while
I am finally feeling, happy
“What’s behind the door?” Gun Roswell
Blue door
Step in through the door
In the colour of blue, that is
If you dare, did I
Give you a scare or
Is your face so pale by nature?
So do let yourself inside
Who knows what scary things
You may find, after all, this is
A tale for the odd
And peculiar people, who like
To dabble in the adventures beyond an
Explanation from this world maybe
Even horror or some sort
Of supernatural thing, which will make your
Heart sing, until it it
Pops out and lays still
On the ground until you pop it
Back, and all is well.
Again?
“There be cats here!” Gun Roswell
Seven Cats for Caturday
Hurry
I am in a hurry
I always worry and then
I am in a hurry
The world is big
So much to watch over
And I am running
As fast as I can
No time for patting
No time for purring
That’s why this image
Got so damned blurry!
“The journey begins” Gun Roswell
Beginning of a journey
Early rise, beginning the begin, with a smile
On the long train, on my way
Feeling the speed, for looking back, no need
Always on the move, finding my groove
The journey ahead, all my life to this lead
People passing by, giving me the high five
I know I’m on the right track, so giving myself some slack
Soon another place in front of me, and I want everything to see
Until the time, when the bells chime
As it’s time for me to move along
But not without singing a song
And with that, there is nothing wrong
“From the highest mountain top, shouting out loud, until I drop” Gun Roswell
On the top
Climbing as high as I possible can
But of climbing, I am not really a fan
As I start to ascend, I know I am making a new trend
making it to the utmost top, no way I may this flop
Climbing, climbing, climbing until I drop
Nothing, no nothing, can make me stop
I am going to make it, up there, where the clouds lay
And when I reach the tallest top, I am there to stay
“No matter the cup, coffee can never taste bad” Gun Roswell
Faded
On old beat up, chipped and faded cup i have
The only survivor of a life past and sad
But when i pour that dark and scented liquid slowly in to it
It’s almost as breathing new life bit by bit
The soaring hot beverage filling the cup to the hilt
But the old crockery doesn’t seem to mind one bit
Keeping it fresh and nice until i am able to drink
Being a trusted tool even after all this time
Yes, with this one i really got lucky and keeping in mind
When venturing out next time
And shopping for cheap imitations
Which can never replace, an old sensation
“Follow the light!?” Gun Roswell
Lit Up
Follow me out of the darkness
Through, this, narrow passage
I cannot guarantee you the future
This, solution, is only a suture
But, if you dare to take this leap
It won’t cost much but it’s actually very cheap
A small step, the first on of many
And, after a while, you’ll notice the changes
The darkness fading, as will all the blaming
Self doubt, sadness and hating
Before you know it, you’ll be surrounded
By all the light and colours you could imagine
As a reward, for discarding all that doubting
“Oh I’ll twist it right, in there!” Gun Roswell
Metallic Twist
In a twist of metal, she was born
In the early hours, before sunrise, at dawn
She stretched extremities with a yawn
And then realized, in full length, she was not small
Now, in the middle of the room on her pedestal
She stands there, people gawking, like she was an angel
But she does not mind, she gets off on the stares
Even with an expressionless face, internally, she glares
For she, is no angel, nor is a mere mortal
Her goal to stir trouble, ever since arriving through that portal
The poor artist in creation, was never the wiser poor soul
Of what evil things he let loose, twisting that metallic roll
She is no hurry, watching, waiting, for that special moment
When everyone is under her spell, and then only starts the torment
The eternal yearning, the struggle within, of wanting, never having
That is her agenda, to raise hope, but never giving
Rantings Of A Third Kind 