Summer expectations

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“There is fantasy and then, there is the harsh reality” Gun Roswell

Summer expectations

Waking up to expectations of gorgeous weather in a beautiful place ahead
But the darkness must have been an omen, as what greeted me instead 
An non-coloured greyish scene, with no natural light, anywhere, to be seen

I blinked once, twice, three times, and then pinched myself, just to be sure of what I saw, this utter vile
In front of my sad eyes now laid, instead of all the fine I had just seen, while lying on the bottom of my soft bed

Enough! I finally said

Had it all really been, a good dream, or a figment of my vivid imagination, a total fantasy, I had seen?
Such marvelous things and places, making ones heart really go to the races
All the colours of the rainbow, hardly any winds there to blow, life going, gently, smoothly and, oh so slow

Closing the curtains, feeling a tad on the side of hurting
I decided to go back to my bed, continue dreaming, until this, season of dread
Was finally over

Turning off the bedside lamp, my eyes tight shut clamped
And then, I, was back, in the place, of eternal summer, I had before of dreamt

Fluffy summers day

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“Fluffy are the clouds and so is the mood, on this, hot summers day” Gun Roswell

Fluffy summers day

Sitting. at the end, of a long pier
Looking. at the clouds, as they appear
Changing, their very shapes, as they slowly drift away

The waters surface calm and blue
Perfectly matching, the sky’s hue
Feeling the warmth of the sun on my skin

Nothing moves, nothings stirs in this moment
It seems, as if the clock, has stopped, all movement
The birds and bees at flight, frozen in mid air

As I close my eyes, I still spy
The world around me, feelings of being free
On this warm and fluffy summers day

Sailing to the sunset

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“Sailing, what a wonderful way of weightlessness” Gun Roswell

Sailing to the sunset

Just like in an old school romantic movie
Trying to get things in my life once again grooving
As I am setting sail and off into the horizon disappearing
Never looking back, not giving the sails any slack
With the wind behind me, pushing forward towards the horizon
I am staring at the sun’s last rays before the moon’s arising

In this image so very quaint
The audiences will surely faint
The dark aura, away fading
As I am gently but surely sailing
Towards the eternal sunset

Summer Rama

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“A panoramic view, of the summer’s hue, how quaint!” Gun Roswell

Summer Rama

Sitting, in the perfect of places
Where the sunshine, and the long summer, always, stays
The temperature, always, perfectly warm but then, cool, at the same time
Which in itself, is a contradiction, but for me, it works really fine

My head, spinning and turning, like the exorcist chicks did, almost one three hundred and sixty degrees
Trying to get in, all the lovely scenery, but, at the same time, feel the warmth of the sun and the cooling breeze
A panoramic photograph, finally done ending up, in my own crocked mind
And then, a little while later, on the great wide web, for all the followers to find

Oh, the Summer Rama!
What would I ever do without ya?

The Calming of Sundays

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“It’s always calmest before the storm, that’s why they call it Sunday” Gun Roswell

The Calming of Sundays

The presence of calm today is lulling me to false sense of security
As, today is Sunday, I know with almost a hundred percent certainty
That it is only a fake state
Before it is too late
For me to realize
That Monday, is once again upon us
Thus, bringing the horrific storm of fuzz
The weekly strugle, the mundane strife
The grind which all of us want to escape
But, on this day, on this hour, it is much too late
The holy weekend is over
As the darkening clouds start revolving
Over our tiny heads evolving
Bringing forth images do scary
It is a miracle any of us survive
Live throughyhe night as the winds are howling
Your very essence scowling
Preaparing for the worst to come
And leaving you stunned
Too nervous to think or move
Yes, the weekly grind, the huge storm
Definitely, has you schooled
To be, act and live
By only its one rule
At least, Monday through Friday
During the weekend
It’s not a concern, how your time is spent

Friday comes, but once in a week!

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“Thank goodness, it’s finally Friday, ’bout bloody time!” Gun Roswell

Friday comes, but once in a week!

Friday, at last, this week, could not have gone any faster
Faster, as I very well know, will this day end too
Too, and then “boohoo” I cry, but hey, that is just fine
Fine, as I know, there will be another Friday
Friday, which unfortunately only comes, one a week

Week, is such a dreary measure
Measure, like a year or even a hundred
Hundred, is the number of the percent
Percent, which I always give this day
Day, unlike so many others consists of hope
Hope, so hard to find these days
Days, gone by, but hopefully plenty ahead
Ahead, like the word hope, wish, what ever
Ever, I wish Friday here to stay
Stay, please stay, I totally pray
Pray, like you are a deity or something so great
Great, better than anything else
Else, is where I usually am
Am, exist, being, living, solely for Friday
Friday, oh how I love you
You, this, feeling which you can only bring
Bring little ol’ me, each and every week
Week, oh, were are back to this again
Again, and in circles I run until
Until I come to the end of this poem
Poem, so yeah, guess I have a thing for Fridays then!

Hey, it’s Friday, and there is a party, at my house, if you can find it, that is 😉

Transports for Mundane Monday (1)

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“Choose and pick, which ever you may fancy!” Gun Roswell

Transports for Mundane Monday 

Tram

With a tram, you can calmly sit down and even have a ham
No need for steering, for peddling for even discussion of any kind, if you so decide
Just sit and enjoy, the ever changing scenery, and when you are ready to jump of, shout ahoy
Or then, just push the red stop button, instead!

Transports for Mundane Monday (3)

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“Choose and pick, which ever you may fancy!” Gun Roswell

Transports for Mundane Monday 

Scooter

The black big thing, on the street corner there
You cannot help, but stand and stare
It is massive compared to any kind of bi wheeled moped
Are you even sure, this, thing, can be called a scooter?

Transports for Mundane Monday (2)

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“Choose and pick, which ever you may fancy!” Gun Roswell

Transports for Mundane Monday 

Blue Car

Owned by “Katri” as it clearly states on the back of the tiny blue car
She has really taken care of this piece of technology so far
Driven it all across the country and then some
And freely admitting, she and her friends really had a lot of fun

Summer chasers

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“Chasing summer to the end of the world” Gun Roswell

Summer chasers

In the middle, of the coldest of winter
When the snow storm outside, makes you shiver
Your only wish, for someone to deliver
A promise, a hope, of summers glimmer

And then, finally, after so many months of sorrow
Spring runs by, so fast, you’re wishing it had longer lasted
But the seasons are for us only to borrow
And soon enough, the long awaited summer is here, with skies so clear

The lush nature and warm breeze
Nothing but sunshine as far as you can see
But nothing is as you it imagined
The dreams quickly turning against

Record heat hitting the fans
Something no one really predicting can
Days and nights, groaning of too hot weather
Not even the waters alleviate the aching fever

Now, sitting under a tall tree
In the shadows wishing only to see
The coal and calming white powdered snow
And the cold breeze as the winter winds blow

For you see, no matter how hard you try
It’s never as good as the fake memory in your mind
Whether the weather is to blame
Or simply the set of mind games we play
Who can really say