“All kinds of witches are about, usually all year long, but especially during Easter times!” Gun Roswell
The three witches from some-wick
Never mind with
They ain’t winning no beauty contests
To that many can attest
But ugly can be an asset
Especially for the wickedness
Scaring folks and cattle
Just by showing up tattle
After all, this is a holy ball
For all the witch kind
And if you any of them find
Then try to stir to the right
As the witches always drive
On the left hand side
“All kinds of witches are about, usually all year long, but especially during Easter times!” Gun Roswell
She is so old, her teeth are gold
She is almost blind and bold
But never the lesser one
Usually, having all the fun
When she smiles
There is no vile
The children she likes
Never ever strikes
Only candy will she eat
When she is riding on that broomy seat
Her charm is the grey cat
Which has become quite fat
Cheers and best wishes to all
Before the cauldron her again calls
And until next Easter
She will be off her keister
Happy Valentine’s Day? Why not?
The love shared upon this day might be a little bit overwhelming
At least for a soul somewhat having prepared to be their precious time alone spending
Alas, when entering the glorious and often times anonymous World Wide Web
The eyes are certainly fixed on the plethora of greetings and wishes there sent
By he colourful tableau of cards in bits and bytes capturing cuteness without a strife
A true representation of the ongoing life?
Well, I guess it is all just… well… fine?
As this day is supposed to be for lovers and all kinds of friends
Sharing all their devotion, those pesky emotions and feelings with a note and a possible present
Yet, I cannot help but feel some kind of opposite way much to my dismay
Of all this affection on this day out there on display
So, guess my point of it all to make
Was not that it’s all just fake
Rather, yes have your day and eat your cake
Mr Valentine, whomever you were, given us the name
Is all good to me, but please
If you truly care, never your words of love spare
State them out each and every single day
To those closest to your heart, chilly or not
As that is truly the right way
…what a ride it has been!
and so, the journey continues…
A huge big thanks to all my readers, my friends out here in the World Wide Web of things!!!
“It is that time of the year… Oh wait! It’s a completely new year! Card Blanc!!” Gun Roswell
The New Year
Colourful burst of noise filled blinding light
Filling the darkened day, soon turning into a night
The clocks, on the walls, and everywhere, are quickly churning
As the long awaited coming of a new year starts slowly turning
Time itself stopping, for a blink one an eye
As all the wishes and hopes, for a better life
Fill the airways, from every which possible way
Letting go of the passing year and all its fear
Because now looking forward, is a reward
Of this special midnight, which will make everything alright
“Another year spent, where I’ve accomplished absolutely nothing” Gun Roswell
Bread and Circuses for the Masses
Bread and Circuses
For any and all purposes
Lights and loud fireworks
Maybe with some other quirks?
No time to waste
It is after all the time to celebrate
So, let us all unite
Leave our differences aside
As the New Year
We all hail
Even if following
A different trail
The past and present
Already having been spent
And so towards the future
From now on end
We will all ascend
“Sometimes, the classics are the best of tales, even in reposts. Happy holidays to One and All!” Gun Roswell
The year was 1845. I was about ten years of age and working as a stable girl. Our family lived and worked in Lord Hamilton’s manor house. It was Christmas time and as a gift for the servants, the Lord arranged a feast for the staff and their families.
Mommy had the children dressed in their Sunday best. My two brothers were complaining about the stiffness of the shirts. Starch was itchy and could cause rash, especially if one scratched the itch.
I had my favourite dress on and my younger sister was a bit jealous of the red and green colouring. She was wearing a plain blue coloured hand me down.
After all the fuzz and hassle with the wardrobe, the whole family was finally set to go to the main house and start with the Christmas dinner. Us servants would be dining in the large kitchen. Several long tables were brought in with extra seats as well. This wasn’t a large household. With around fifteen servants and their families, well not all had children and spouses, all in all around sixty people in total crammed around the tables. The two cooks had had their hands full with the preparations and naturally every one that could had chipped in.
But now it was time for celebration. Everyone was finally sitting down and getting quiet. After grace the noise level rose again. Food containers were passed around and everyone was filling their respective plates. After all, it wasn’t often we got to eat in this manner and variety.
After a while, everyone had cleared their plates and it was time for dessert. My favourite was the Figgy Pudding. If possible I opted for seconds. As I got my plate of the delicious substance before me, I licked my lips and dug into it with gusto. It did not take too long for the food to disappear from my plate.
My mom looked at me with a smirk. I looked back at her and passing my bowl I asked: “Is there any Figgy Puddin’ left?”
I was smiling widely, feeling exhilarated, when the bowl was passed back to me with an other helping.
When the final bits were eaten, it was time for the traditional sing along. The farmhand brought out his accordion and after the first few tunes, we all joined in. The evening was spent singing, chatting and finally picking up the tables. We all went back to our dwellings, thanking the Lord for the special meal.
Merry Pudding and God bless us everyone!
“Santa has it real easy. I plan and buy all the toys. He gets all the credit just for them deploying!” Mrs Claus
Mrs Claus to the rescue!
Mrs Claus
Without any kind of applause
Doing her bid
Without earning a single quid
Because all of this so called Yuletide
Without the bride
Of this, so called Santa
Would be just banter
No kind of jolly
Or celebration type folly
For neither me
Nor you
Without the one we never calling choose
Mrs Claus
“The holiday season for some, those celebration begins, on this very Eve…” Gun Roswell
The Eve of all Eves (Xmas style)
‘Twas the night before Christmas
Nothing stirred,
No sound was heard
No human, nor animal, in sight
Even the mice had taken flight
The only ones about their business
Were the little green men from Mars
They had to be really careful
Their nature a little bit fearful
For the holidays not to turn into a farce
It was their turn to spread wholly
Presents and a great amounts of jolly
In a mighty hurry
No time for blurry
Their sleigh filled
Up to the hilt
As it took off
With a big bang
And a huge puff
As they all sang
The yuletide carols
As they rolled off
Children and grown-ups
Getting lots of stuff
As the little green men
Working collectively
Their derrières off in zen
As the Xmas spirit
Now duly delivered
All around the world
At least,
That is what we heard
“It is always warm in the sauna, the temperature close to subtropical, even more so, when pouring water onto the heated stones, the sizzling sounds, the steam, all of it, making it hard to breathe, at least for a moment there, before it all settles and there is nothing more of to care, the ol’ brain having gone all mushy, and isn’t that just blissful!” Gun Roswell.
Take a steam bath, in a lukewarm Sauna
The Finns do love their sauna, there is really nothing there, holding trauma, simply the sense of family and calm, the warmth, water and smells of heated wood, filling the small dark corner of a nook, where the weekly grind will slowly but surely slide, off of any kind of skin, and it’s really not a sin, to just let all the worry go, take things slow, for a moment in time, even if needing to steal the spell, to have for oneself, then becoming one with the cosmos, as the fuzzy steamy atmosphere descends upon the small room, the place which the whole family shares, for just this one fleeting moment, letting go of all, embracing the nothingness and into it fall, until it is time to put another log into the fire, stir the steamy stones and wait for another heatwave to hit.
Happy Independence Day Finland! (established 1917)
Rantings Of A Third Kind 