“The time for sleep for nature is upon” Gun Roswell
Frozen in time for the Season
Frozen,
In space and time
Leaves,
In dozen a dime
Frozen in time for the Season
Author Archives: Gun Roswell
Slippery Winter Road
“During winter, it usually snows, a lot!” Gun Roswell
Slippery Winter Road
Winter, winter
Gave me a splinter
Looking, at my finger
Let out, a whimper
Oh, what a stinker
Is this, snowy winter!
The moon in noir
“The night or the day, no matter which way you decide to cypher it, the moon is out there, hanging above even if somewhat dimly lit“ Gun Roswell
The moon in noir
The moon was out, hanging above in the clear blue sky, nothing there to spy, not really, but it could have as easily have been in the middle of the night, as the light, was so dim.
Either because of the timing, being that of summer, the day never ending, and so day or night, all the same, as the sun and moon together keeps on spinning.
Or then, it was the day of a ver dark and dreary autumn month, the shades blurring in together, to each other, the shadow, the light, all the grey shades of neither and then both, the monochrome, the noir, all of it one simple colour.
Whatever it is you see up there with your own bare eyes, is the truth, whether the sky is blue, or pitch black dark, the moon is always there, looking mighty smart.
Winter in Black and White
“Oh the snow! It just keeps on pouring, doesn’t it!” Gun Roswell
Winter in Black and White
No sense in wasting colour
It won’t get any better or duller
The nature all in monochrome
Like after a white paint bomb
Life at sea in Monochrome
“Life in black and white like in the olden days, so simple and neat, am I right!?” Gun Roswell
Life at sea in Monochrome
I am neither black or white
I am just a grey delight
Maybe not so much fun
Being only a colour of one
That of a monotone
But not a clone
Or then I am, whatever
But,
You may call me,
Monochrome
In Monochrome (seven)
“My philosophy is quite simple: it’s not just black and white, but sprinkled with so many shades of grey” Gun Roswell
The Flower
Going, going, almost gone
Now from summer, it’s so long
But something else, will come along
When fall and then winter
Will sing their songs
In Monochrome (six)
“Black and white? The two colours shine so very bright, am I right?!” Gun Roswell
The Lighthouse
A tall tower and its smaller twin
Living, side by side,
On an island, made from winds
With the blue ocean wide
And the land around them thin
No hiding, from the high tide
But together they survive
For they are kind
And nothing them, can divide
In Monochrome (five)
“Capturing someone’s soul in a black and white photograph? Ominous? Or perhaps preservation for the future?” Gun Roswell
The Ruins
High up
On the mountain top
The basic instincts
Are kicking in:
Clouds filled, with life giving water
Arrived into the valley, with a fog like holler
Do not worry about survival anymore
Looks like the weather gods,
Rewarded us with a big score
In Monochrome (four)
“Colour just might be the thing, alas black and white is so much more” Gun Roswell
The Bird
Hovering above the world
Wings spread like a big bird
Voice screeching to be heard
Like a flying seagull high in the sky
Soaring, into the grey horizon
There is no one defined reason
Only the thrill of being
In the here and now
Winter in Monochrome (three)
“Black and white is abstract, agreed for sure, but still something quite tangible?” Gun Roswell
The Fortress
Frost bitten branches and leaves
Above a small dwelling still heave
The wind cold and freezing
Breathing in the throat keeps on wheezing
“This weather, certainly takes your breath away”
Just be careful not too long to stay
Warm mittens and a thick coat
And certainly a woolen scarf for that throat
Rantings Of A Third Kind 