Daily Snaps
“Old school, for sure, but still, looking quite cool” Gun Roswell
Fifties car
Driving around, on these, modern streets
This old girl of a vehicle, quite polished and very neat
On the front and back, there may be only one seat
But that’s OK, because everyone, will still fit
“Mondays without colour, what a drag!” Gun Roswell
Mundane on a Monday
Pink Window
Yesterdays reflected
From old discarded windows
An old shack
Once painted black
Now boasting, the colour pink
It’s an eye sore some say
But others, smile and
In front of it for a moment stay
It’s not useful anymore
Who knows what secrets
Within it are stored
But for now, the windows
And the doors
Remain locked of course
And maybe someday
You may find the key
Which unlocks them all
“I love the deepness of a passionate red” Gun Roswell
Two of red
Hanging, together, no need for a tether
We are close, so close to each other
There is no need for any kind of binding
And if either of us would get lost out there
The invisible bond is still us together holding
Only need to shout and each other again, we are finding
“I may be old, but I am still useful” Gun Roswell
Still useful
Old and crooked, wrinkled and busted
Weathered, and certainly not functioning like I’m supposed to have lasted
But a fresh coat of paint, a few pretty flowers from the bench
And voila, I am serving a new purpose
Out here, for everyone’s enjoyment
“I prefer the darkness, but I love the light” Gun Roswell
Shady side of me
Sometimes the brightness gets too much
My skin aching from a ray of lights touch
Running for a cover, anywhere to stay, to simply, get away
Finally, finding, my preferred place, in the darkened, cooling, shade
“Is it of alien origin?” Gun Roswell
Out of this world
An object of unknown origin
Maybe, quite possibly, a life form
Sparkling electricity, most likely, out of necessity
But, when I touched it, it went away
Oh, sparkling little life form, why did you not stay?
“It’s not always a sign of a saint” Gun Roswell
Halos on discount
I may be wearing a halo, at least some days when I am feeling low
Thinking of all the good deeds done in my past, but this feeling will not long last
I am sinking so fast, my crown of of a halo
Soon will be the only thing surviving the blast
But the waters soon will calm down
And on the surface floats, my well earned halo crown
“Mondays without colour, what a drag!” Gun Roswell
Mundane on a Monday
Busy Bee
A red open flower tempted
The busy bee to relent
It’s flight in the middle of the day
And onto the open petals lay
Gathering all the nectarine it can find
Before back into its hive it will fly
But dear bee
Beware of the honey trap
Set to lure you in fact
And if you don’t soon fly away
You will forever in this flower
Trapped, remain
“Hiding my other side, the dark side of me, always” Gun Roswell
Half of me seen
I like to hide, the other side, of me
The one, never, ever facing the sun
This side, has never been exposed
Never have been observed up close
And it will remain on the dark side
Until, the end of time
“It is harvest time, in the garden, and not just for us humans” Gun Roswell
Autumn Garden Bliss
Behind, the lush grown, hidden small size gates
A tiny, really old dwelling, the on looker baits
And, for the odd traveller, just passing by
To simply dare, to step, inside
For there is nothing more alluring, than the unknown and divine
The cottage, once, in screaming bright red painted
But now, mostly, the exterior’s inviting flash, is all faded
It is as quaint as the trimmings of the windows
But still standing strong, even after all the wind blows
And into the past, the history, it invites to explore
Guarded, by the tiniest of inanimate gnomes
Sitting there, in a solemn quiet and an orderly row
They seem smiling and totally life like
And, if you dare to misstep, then you will feel their spite
For they are the guardians of the cottage’s life
The trees, now filled with apples, oranges and berries
After all, it is that time, most of us cherish
The Autumn falling slowly, onto the waiting land
With all the colours so bright, you can hardly stand
Foliage, they dwellers say, and then, offer you a hand
It is now, near harvest time, for both the bees, birds and human kind
Every single living thing gathering their reward, knowing, they have scored
When their stomachs are filled with delicious nectar and food
From apples, oranges, berries, and all, who can really and honestly choose!
So step into the world of wonder, you really have nothing to lose!
Rantings Of A Third Kind 