“Winter really is a heartless bia-tch” Gun Roswell
Rain and Snow
Rain and snow together fell
Onto the frozen ground causing a spell
A cooled down liquid prefix
Of an icy mirror like surface
Where walking is impossible
And falling down most probable
But the beauty of it all still tempting
Maybe, for some ice skating
Rain and snow
Head to toe
Fell together in a row
Nature slow
But still in a flow
And boy, what a show!
“Cat hair all over!” Gun Roswell
Black cat
A black cat sat
In the middle of the street in ease
She did not move an inch
Not even in a tight pinch
Passers by needed to slide
This cat sitting so wide
Proud face and nose up
Nothing would her mood stop
Gazing at the skies as far as the crow would fly
The black cat’s attitude was snide
Sassy and bossy, with fur so glossy
She was the owner, the queen of this street
“Heavy traffic on the tarmac” Gun Roswell
Coming or going?
Which way are we driving?
Are we coming or going or simply
Staying put in this place?
Seems no matter which way
The steering wheel is turned the vehicle
Only goes the opposite way
What are the options then
Run around in circles forever and ever
Or try to figure out
How to shift the gears
Take a step back and then try
To slowly move forward again
“First you’re up then you’re down” Gun Roswell
Uphill battle
Up the steep hill struggling
My feet sliding on the slippery stones
Trying hard not to fall
Ancient ruins beckoning to be
Checked, have to reach the top or
It is a total flop
Breathing is heavy, so loud
The local fauna wondered what the hell
Is this ruckus all about
They all gathered to stare
As further up I climbed the stairs
Until finally I was there
“Fine dining today” Gun Roswell
Mama’s bar
Entering Mama’s bar with mouth
Ajar, drool running freely from the corners
As the smells assault each
And every sense I have
Anticipating the taste of servings so plenty
I am silently thanking the
One who into this wonderful
Sent me, knowing what my tastes would
Be as far as food
Would be concerned and knowing
How much I love the local cuisine
Today, I will certainly feast!
“It’s another day of the week, naturally!” Gun Roswell
Tuesdays keep on coming
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!)
“Mondays are mundane, like Tuesdays minus 24 hours. ”
Office Life
“It’s snowing outside”
She loudly out cried
When through the window eyed
But then, with one quick stride
Without even a good-bye
And to everyone’s surprise
She was gone like a spy
Out into the great wild
Also known as the outside
“Sundays are the worst” Gun Roswell
Sunday, again!
Sunday has crept upon us again
It was just Friday a minute ago, then
This day turned up on the early morning clock
Without one single warning, we could not stop
The time from progressing further
No where to hide or turn there
Where we really wanted to go
Friday, and this time make it go slow
No more Sunday in the foreseeable future
This day, seems to be complete torture
A promise of silence and peace
A complete bliss and mind release
But what really happens on this day
Is the beginning of anxiety of the horrid Monday
When all freedom is ripped
And into the mundane rat race we are dipped
Where all hope goes to die
And our wings are clipped preventing us to fly
So why do I hate Sundays?
(Panic attack getting worse)
Because:
It’s the day next to Monday!!!
“We travel, some of us forever,
to seek other places, other lives, other souls.” –
Anais Nin
Tallinn, Estonia
Narrow alleyways
And painted windows
The old town is full of
Perfect hideaways
A church from the past
Should be quite the blast
It was built to last
Alas
It may be run down
But hey, this is the old town!
Driving a Lada-car
Will probably not get you very far
But most likely
To the nearest bar
Where you are always, the star!
If the Shoe Fits
“I like Cinderella, I really do. She has a good work ethic.
I appreciate a good, hard-working gal. And she likes shoes.
The fairy tale is all about the shoe at the end, and I’m a big shoe girl”
Amy Adams
The Evil Red Shoe Queen
“Mirror mirror on the wall
Am I still the evilest of them all?
And more precisely, are my shoes
The shiniest in the world?
The Red Shoe Queen demanded the mirror.
An image appeared into the mirror’s glass and with an evil grin responded:
“Undoubtedly, you are quite evil, my dearest Queen. But, there is another….”
The Queen stared at the mirror, wanting it to crack, from a mere look.
Rantings Of A Third Kind 