Seat on the side

Posted on by

“Seat in the side of the street, sitting totally sideways just to rest my tired feet, well it’s Sunday after all, so no fuss but to let the time stall” Gun Roswell

Seat on the side

The day long and sunny, some would say Sunday funny, but the warm weather so soon after a long while of cold and damp and grey, well, it got the better of this weary walker, on a simple Sunday stroll, taken just because, the weather was so nice and beckoning, thinking to be bold and so finally outside venturing, after all, these days, in the times of change, it was still a choice hard to be made, but not on this fined day, of a sunny and warm Sunday, but for a while, after taking the long tour instead and in a while, having a respite along side, was something totally needed and never mind, the passersby, looking at what the lazy one was doing, but not caring a single bit as there was no hurry to do more than just be and enjoy, the day of free, on this quiet and long day, and so, in place for a moment longer staying, before pushing on, showing everyone, this one was still strong after all.

Black hog (Haiku)

Posted on by


“Is it a moped perhaps a hog? Something really small?” Gun Roswell

Black hog (Haiku)

Black bike parked on street
Its name Hog of Black earned well
Riding it no one can

Bike ride gone oh so very wrong

Posted on by


“Riding a bike, down, down, down, the steep hill” Gun Roswell

Bike ride gone oh so very wrong

Trying too hard to impress
Stunts on a bike, without much thought
Now, leg and bike broken

No time to digress

The metal and the asphalt have spoken
Life as we know it
At least the ride of the day right now

Forgotten

Hopping along
Trying to stay strong
Something so wrong

Cannot help but laugh

It’s a really bad joke
On the rider’s expense told
But being bold

Totally so, without hesitation

One leg a hopping
Without shame back home
As it could have been worse

Ending up, in a hearse

Utopia

Posted on by


“Sometimes dreams really can come true – the once utopia seen in the minds eye being fulfilled in reality?” Gun Roswell

Utopia

In a world of black and white
There is no wrong or right
There is no war nor strike
No conflict nor fight

The land is wast and pretty
No one says anything remotely shitty
There is no poverty nor pity
All is done up to the nitty gritty

Ah, my silly little utopia
How did I ever dream up ya?

Black and white with some grey 

Posted on by

“Those shady greys are everywhere” Gun Roswell

Black and white with some grey 

The sky so gorgeous over my head
I cannot tear my sore eyes away 

Despite this monochromatic view
I choose to stand here’s and drool 

Painted images with black and white
Make a beautiful tableau of the skies 
Lurking greys are in the shadows
But only for the effect as the wind blows 

Even without colour the picture is so vivid
With my camera going quite livid 
Palm trees and cloudy sun filled skies
This is the place where the true beauty lies 

Solarised when at the poolside

Posted on by


“Mother Sol appeared while at the pool, sitting by myself, in the cloudy atmosphere, but now, I am basking in all those warm rays” Gun Roswell

Solarised when at the poolside

The day started out, quite dull and grey, and there was no indication that the clouds above blocking all the good views, would soon fade. But, feeling daring and bold, as so I am always told, making my way to the pool just outside the rented house, as the yard itself was quite the louse, alas, the pool was the place to be, at least, when wanting to be seen, by the sun itself, perhaps even getting baked in the process, to a nice crispy exterior, well, perhaps not that crispy, but you get the gist of it, letting the ol’ tired body get its air bathing in the warming sun, as the joints and whatnots really like it too, so before getting too blue, I was lying there on the sun bed, half naked, I thought about getting a proper blanket. Alas, those thoughts all soon perished, as a peek of something glamorous, poured through the thick layer of dark clouds and soon enough, those ominous things above were vanquished and the Sol, smiling at my flabbiness, let all the warmth through, and the rest of the day spent basking in the proper sun shine, just because I had dared to wait for it to arrive!

Working hard? Hardly!

Posted on by


“The winter season gives you extra special tasks to do, like shovelling the snow almost every single day. Fun, am I right? Not! she replied, quickly enough” Gun Roswell 

Working hard? Hardly!

The shovel at the door, simply waiting for me to finish the chore, the thing happening in winter,, the one with the snow, which after a while becomes quite the bore as it seems a never ending lore, the falling of snow flakes onto each and every surface, which seemed like a welcome change, for a day or so. But, as the same old continued all day long, all days long as it were, the beauty of it all soon faded and the eternal struggle with the snow shovel, soon turned to some kind of hatred, for the white powdery stuff, the winter seemingly too long and rough, especially with constant grinding of minus degrees of frozen solid, to rain and sleet and all that shit. So, in the end or not nearly the end of this season, it all had become enough, as the piles growing ever higher had no space to be, as you see, small yards make easy maintenance, but not during the winter’s mighty entrance, almost as an eternal pest that one is and makes one wish for a warmer climate to stay in. And so, with that in mind one snowy day, the shovel was left where it was left to lay. And the snow? Well, it would be spring time eventually, right? But hey! It’s already summer!

Island life

Posted on by


“Sometimes, one simply needs a break from it all.” Gun Roswell

Island life

A small Island, perhaps Greece?
A small piece
Of our very own history
Beyond the centuries
The oldest of towns
Considered the jewel of the crown
Alas the soft sunny beach
At your very reach
Ixia, Kamiros or Lindos
A small drive with the bus
Everything you’ll ever need
On the small island of eternal peace

White and the shadows 

Posted on by


“The contrasts between light and shadow, black and white, darkness and bright are quite breathtaking” Gun Roswell 

White and the shadows 

The starkness of the non coloured smooth surfaces, the edges and points of the darkening shadows, causing spikes of interest in the corner of the onlookers eyes. The plain fields filled with nothing and also everything, even with the lack of colour, only the changing of light making the non permanent fixtures wherever they strike. And, for the careful observer, there is much more there than that to be found, as the patterns hidden slowly start to emerge from the top to the ground, and sometimes even surge up from all the levels never reachable until visible with the changing of day and night. 

The continuous struggle, the fight of coming to life, whether a shadow or a blip of light, continues on the walls of eternity, for those whom seek to see, as without the struggle there would be no light nor shadow, simply a whole plain of greys, but then again, maybe some of us could find the nuances and structures inside those planes as well. It is simply the matter of searching and then finding out what those are, as it really is, mostly art and that is a good start.

Up the stony hill we go

Posted on by

“The stones might be many and quite slippery, but we’ll make it as long as we keep on moving, up the damned hill“ Gun Roswell

Up the stony hill we go

Step by step, breath by breath, moving along

Ever upwards the slippery hill, against the chill, moving along

The prospect of injury, in the air heavily lingering, still, moving along

The need to get to the very end, never mind the time spend, just moving along

The question lingering in the air for a moment: why all this torment?

The answer not so simple, perhaps too complicated to unravel, so, moving along

The many thoughts of giving up growing ever so stronger, as the longer, moving along

But then reminded of the reward, finally getting the big score, continuing moving along

And so, pushing aside all them troubling thoughts, even if against fought, and keeping on moving along

Then, something strikes across the open air, the foul stench of utter despair?

Halting, reconsidering, fighting back perhaps, eyes searching for something, a reason perhaps, for moving along

A moment passes, then another, and a third, internal struggle, pushing back and moving along

There is always something, an excuse or other, but, winning the internal struggle and moving along

A few pebbles more and the top shining, ever so brightly, the last steps lightly, moving along

Reaching the spot, right there on the top, at the end of the slippery slope, but finally able to breathe, as this was where the designed path wanted to lead