Take a Hike, or to the Moon

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“When the working day is done, better have some fun, take a slow hike to the woods, or run amok trying to reach the moon” Gun Roswell

Take a Hike, or to the Moon

Take as slow hike up the winding path
Upon start, having no idea how long it lasts
Just enjoy the upon coming adventure
No matter where or when you venture

You may end up in a different place
Somewhere, where no one for long stays
But hurrying back is not an option at all
So move along, don’t try to stall

Maybe you’ll find a long lost treasure
Or just the atmosphere, for the leisure
Maybe you’ll end up to the moon
And get to swing on the stars as they loom

But once you get the urge to get back home
Just click on your heels, and think of Rome
Because every single road leads to the city
And getting lost, well, that is just a pity!

Doors and the Monochrome

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“Even in a black and white world, you can still find windows and doors, leading to another world” Gun Roswell

Doors and the Monochrome

The mystical hatches will open up to
Another world, a realm of magic and few
Other things you may not realize you
Needed, but always in secret, wished
For, and now into the this place whisked
You’ll never have to wonder anymore
What kinds of great things life has in store
For you, now that you reached the door
Open it, take a peek inside,
Look, listen, of what you can find
Once you let that imagination go wild
There is nothing better than that in life
Or at least in this magical realm
If you succeed long enough to delve
Then this is the place for you, forever

Freshly made tracks in the early morning

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“The ski tracks, in the freshly fallen snow, nothing lack, until the wind blows” Gun Roswell

Freshly made tracks in the early morning

Early morning, just at dawn
Something odd, into the soft white ground fall
The flakes so thin, so delicate
In beauty they will nothing lack
But a deep cut into the very core
Will make the gorgeous blanket sore
As the devices made out of plastic
Cut deep into the delicate blanket
Leaving scars a while lasting
A shadowy darkness over the softness casting
Bleeding, without healing
Until the sky breaks into tears
And healing soft flakes
The opens wounds place takes

Snowflakes on a Friday

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“…the endless repetition of an ordinary miracle.”

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Snowflakes on a Friday

Snowflakes
In various shapes
A winter makes
Like icing on the cake
Covering the lakes
When it snows
There are no breaks
Just more and more
Snowflakes

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Welcome to Acropolis

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“It’s the travelling to the far corners of the earth which leaves one in awe” Gun Roswell

Welcome to Acropolis

Climbing the tall steps ever winding
Good thing I got great shoes my poor feet binding
No one warned it would be so hot and humid
But I can take it, just to see the ruins
A well-kept secret among the locals
There be so much more to see you need bifocals
Just to capture the essence of the ancient past
As all the structures are fading fast

But the good folks of this here country
Are trying to preserve this unmeasurable bounty
Restoring all with major care and respect
For us touristy types to enjoy and accept
That history is a great thing and needs to be preserved
And not just for the looks and feel of this heard
But to remember, it was all totally real
And to take pleasure of the past and its feel

Rain with tiny singing Droplets

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“It is raining, tiny pieces of glassy mirrors, reflecting life” Gun Roswell

Rain with tiny singing Droplets

Forming, a gigantic watery puddle
As together, these tiny pieces try to huddle
Glassy droplets, sent, from the heavens above
When the rain gods decided, them upon us to shove
The mirror like and imperfect things
Reflecting life, as on the surface now, they sing
But soon, they will be devoured, into the big ocean
All of them rolling together, in one motion
Until finally, being completely sucked, into the scorched land
Thus disappearing, for good, as if it was, the whole plan

Monochromatic Monday Reflected

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“On Mondays, you just want to go totally grey and reflect on the good days of the weekend”
Gun Roswell


Monochromatic Monday Reflected

When the working week beckons
It it that time you need to reckon
Whether to treat the upon coming days as friend
Or go through them one by one like they were a foe
Riding up the glass covered lift car
Is a really good place to start
Thinking whether Mondays really are that bad
Or is it a learnt mental state to be sad
On this one day when everything starts a new
Maybe there are days of bad ahead just a few
And the rest of the week is just fine
Until that much awaited time
When Friday raises its promising head
Indicating of a carefree weekend, ahead!

Seated on Red

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“A red seat, in the summer’s heat, nothing more better, on a sunny Sunday” Gun Roswell

Seated on Red

The grass is green, the sky is blue
The seat is red hot, and it fumes
But never mind, as I am so tired
I need a place to rest, before my ass is fired

The seat in the corner there
Beckons me with its red flare
I take a few steps in a fast pace
Hoping no one else, will see the place

Quickly making my move towards it
I reach the red seat by the curve where it sits
Taking one more glance around
And then, I sit down…
Boy, am I glad to have this heavenly red seat to have found!

Cats a Pose

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“Whether a furry feline or a porcelain facsimile, they are all a posing” Gun Roswell

Cats a Pose

Strike, the perfect pose
To give us, our cuteness dose
Of a pretty cat a walking
Never mind the mice a stalking
Just fluff up your furs
Maybe, something else will need to be stirred
For this photo op now, to be later framed
For the utter and total admiration to be blamed
Because, no one can really resist
A cute little cuddly cat, whom exists
Not even, if you are a true hater
You can save those feelings, for much later
Now, a moment more, just wait
The cat will definitely not hesitate
Striking, that pretty awesome pose
And there, yes, we got one, very close!

Snowed in on a Friday

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“Maybe, this is the last of the snow for this year?” Gun Roswell

Snowed in on a Friday

The snow started falling
Just around when midnight was calling
It just kept on pouring
Until the ground was souring
With powdery white stuff
Nobody knowing if it was enough
But someone said, shut up
And then we watch as the snow kept on coming
Then soon enough, none of us was humming
The piles on piles of snowflakes
Even covered the small watery lake
No matter where you watched
Nothing, no nothing remained untouched
The world was covered in this, thing
Even the bird stopped to sing
Most likely going to hiding
Worried what they might not be finding
The chewy worms in the ground
Because that was no longer to be found
The only thing alive
Was the white snow which came from above