
“A bike of wood?”But, can you peddle it?” Gun Roswell
Woody (Haiku)
City bike street side stands
Made for rental and out of wood
Ride it fast and slow
Photography

“A poem doesn’t have to rhyme right? I mean it’s just fine, with words after another?” Gun Roswell
Written on the run
I wrote this thing on the run
So it may not be that much fun
It may not even rhyme
You see I lost my glasses and cannot see too fine
But as the good doctor prescribed
A poem a day would keep me just fine
So I need to scribble what ever pops into my mind
Even if it is without any kind of rhyme
For who am I
To argue against a professional
Otherwise it would take some kind of confessional
To put all out there
Which inside my head fares
So no this little ditty is totally done
Forgive me for any and all intended puns
I simply could not resist
Otherwise this poem would not exist
And so, I am quite finished (and Finnish)
Just had to put that out there
To excuse all them typos you might at glare!

The yellow bikes are beckoning for a ride” Gun Roswell
Yellow Bikes
The city’s yellow painted two wheeled drives
Came out with the spring and with a great smile
The brightness competing with only the sun
As the bright yellow bikes stand there waiting for some fun
The passers by soon will get some ideas
Hoping on them and riding away with smiles
And as the day progresses on in time
The bike park will soon be empty on the dime
All the yellow bikes now filling both parks and the streets
As all them riders are following that ride worthy beat
Loud ruckus like laughter filling the waves of air
As nothing and no one can deny this bike ride filled cheer

“It might be written in stone, but as long as you can read it, then totally do!“ Gun Roswell
The silent stones which can tell it all
There is hidden wisdom, right there in plain sight, written on the hardest of stones
By those who lived their very lives and have eves since gone beyond the rim forth
Wherever you look, the piles of discarded stones from that past, the words were carved
Perhaps by poor artists starved after having their say, right there, out there, on display
But if you choose to read said writing, and take it to your heart, well, it is really up to you
The choice to follow the perhaps wise words, from those gone before, maybe you should
Because history always keeps on repeating itself, and learning from the past mistakes
Well, you might be better off with the knowledge what did go wrong so long ago
And then apply to your current day life and if you are lucky enough, maybe, you won’t
Be the one to stumble up front, rather the one surviving the bad times and beyond
Just saying there are wise words out there written in stone, so read them, you cannot go wrong!

“There is always time for coffee, and then some more coffee after that” Gun Roswell
Coffee, please and always double
The cup of in single, is never enough, especially when it is time to mingle, among the other coffee lovers, then definitely the cup size needs to be double, if not even triple!
As there really is no such thing as too much coffee, and it won’t last long, when moving along the crowd yapping on about, well, what else could it be about, than coffee!
What else is there? Life as we know it would certainly suck without his fine organic suspension every devised. As it does give you a smile or at least a big fat grin, as coffee might just be a sin!

“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!

“The weather is quite blue, the skies, the ocean all in the same hue, so why not a seat too!” Gun Roswell
The seating with the blues
The day started under signs of calming and wonder, as the skies indicated nothing but blue hues all the way, reflecting the mood, if not so down, then at least no up or downward frowns, only thoughts of could be’s and what if’s in the mind, as good days or positive thoughts seemed to have been hard to find, at least lately, despite the calm of the surrounding blue to be found most times, as the blues was the constant for most days.
So, on this day, taking a chance, without too much of a stance, as resistance usually was on the futile end, as said, most days, behaving more like a Borg drone than anything else was the mode of operandi. Still, today it all seemed somewhat different and up beat even on many levels, because today’s promise of sunny day, under the shade and in a remote seat, in the colour of blue, was the premise made to lure out there, outside of the house.
So, headed out, without, further doubt, heading set to the destination coordinates and with that in mind, setting aside all fear, content on getting to the blue hued seating area soon enough and then enjoying the day without further though of being out there, fear gone, disappeared to the soothing, of blue.

“The cats too can feel the blues and then sing it out loud” Gun Roswell
The cat with the blues
The furry and fluffy and alway happy friends of ours, the felis catus, the domestic cat, homey or stray, does not matter anyway, as they may easily give their feelings away, even more so than their hooman counter parts, and when they do, they too, will sing the blues, and they will do it any time it will them suit.
So, when you hear the tones of the song, with a hint of an off key drawl, filled with lots of sadness echoing across the long and narrow allies, rest assured, those are the cats of the hood, yours, theirs, no one’s, all of them meowing the same tune, that of the sorrow filled blues.
And before you threaten to sue, just look into your very own self for that specific blue, because all of us have it, most likely buried deep inside, forgotten, denied, even to the others lied, but it’s there and if you like, you too may let it all out, join the crowd, of felines yodelling out loud, and soon enough, the feelings have passed and the songs of sadness have released the laughs, all simply fine, no sin or crime.

“I don’t think I can ever get tired of the scenery outside my window” Gun Roswell
Window view – the imaginary scenery
The many lands, the foreign vistas, the great unknown and all the open possibilities
For the exploration, to what ever lies outside, these empty and dull suburban streets
Behind the frames of this view, ever changing, but still, mostly, the same remaining
Window with the most perfect view, at least in my mind, leaving me feeling, never, ever blue
As I sit at the sidelines, in my usual comfortable seat and think of the open wide
World, just at reach, at least, in my mind, out there, outside, I cannot help but smile
As I gently lull myself into a dream state lazy, and then travelling to all the places
Wherever my own imagination dares me to carry, smoothly, never in any kind of hurry
Having always the perfect amount of time, to explore, to see, to feel, to live in it all
Even if it is never, well really, quite real, it is still, a trip or sorts, out there
Never leaving the comfort of these walls of my sombre home, still, never really alone
Not at least, when visiting these, far away lands in my mind, for the perfect scenery to find

“The shade of it all, no matter where you stroll, there is always someone throwing it upon, some of us anyway, giving it freely away, just for the heck of it, even if you did not ask for it” Gun Roswell
Throw some shade this way!
The ever constant thing, even under the scorching sun is this; there will always be a place to find, where throwing some shade will be fine, and that is not just the simple and comforting cover from the burning rays of the daylight we all so like to embrace, not the safety under the parasol kind of a space, but rather, the those ones who will want to harm, anyone really without the charm, with words too harsh to even comprehend, the why’s behind them, unknown will remain