
Caturday Haiku
Cat with various stripes smiles
Patrolling its territory large, no one denies
Afterward, nap time awaits winner
And then, a delicious dinner, with fish
Photography

Caturday Haiku
Cat with various stripes smiles
Patrolling its territory large, no one denies
Afterward, nap time awaits winner
And then, a delicious dinner, with fish
“Standing at the end of a very long pier, looking at the land where all them houses stand, yep, far too many of them there be and then, I flee to the sea!“ Gun Roswell

A view towards the seashore
When out there, to the great open sea, on a small vessel I flee, feeling totally free, nothing but the calming wind and the warming sun surrounding me. No constricting walls or even windows there to protect, but this does not have any kind of an affect as I am still well protected by these elements of nature out here. And, even if there is nothing visible or tangible there to see, I know I am quite safe, lulled to the very sensation by these gentle waves. And the longer I here stay, I don’t feel the need to get back to the shore, as looking at all them houses standing there, side by side, crowded, I already start feeling the bore. So, now that I have gotten my taste of this place, where the wide open blue has replaced, the need to stay in a small cocoon of a case, I don’t think I will go back again, rather my life on the road made of liquid spend. Checking out all the new vistas, to get rid of the restlessness inside, as I travel with my small ship on this large ocean quite wide.
There is just something so fun, laying, under the bright sun, but only, if I have my parasol, where I lay down without being too dull!” Gun Roswell

Under the sun, in cover, under the parasol
The sun is shining, so brightly, against the blue of the sky
Nothing or no other experience in life, makes me really, smile
As does this meteorological phenomena do, to little ol’ moi
When I have made the trek to the beach, for the day encore en foi
But this is not just about throwing some French around
But rather, to enjoy a day, resting, even if lying, on the ground
A day at the beach, in theory at least, is a plan totally sound
But if the heat gets a tad too much to resist, and groaning out loud
Becomes the permanently made, teeth grinding non-vowels
Then it is that time, when the parasol comes to play
Quickly setting up the plastic colourful monstrosity to full display
Never mind the outlook, it’s fine because I myself won’t look
At the contraption, now above my very large head, slightly shook
Because, I will be happy on this one day of summer no matter what
Even with all them flies and other types, I away have to swat
This one single day I have earned with much work and sweat
So I will be damned if the heat or what ever other problem might me let
Feel less of fun, or any other type of good feeling
As I lay here, watching the day, pass me by, leading
Towards the hopefully calm and setting sun for the evening
When I will leave this place, with a smile on my face
Until next year, when I get one day off and to the beach, once again trot
With my parasol naturally, so I can enjoy, the sun, fully!
“The ocean is a place where the soul gets something replaced, something wonderous” Gun Roswell

Life on the Beach
The sun in the blue sky
My mind almost as high
As I am finally relaxing
All those feelings of taxing
Letting it all go
Taking things really slow
Down on the sandy beach
Life is so very simple
To say, the least
“It’s Monday again, Mundane Monday, yeah that one!” Gun Roswell
Mundane Monday, Once Again
No matter if you are travelling or at home There is always something mundane going on During the first day of the week You might not always really find what you seek But look around what the world of mundane will bring You may be surprised of the same old things Look so much different depending of the mood or light Some of them coming finally to life There is art where you least expect it to be adored Just grab your camera and a new attitude and go to explore It may be Monday, that one specific day We all love so much to hate, well, at least of it debate Just call it the beginning of an interesting week to enjoy Because Friday will get here sooner than you have time to shout: “Ahoy!”
“Sundays, yes, those the fun days” Gun Roswell
Sundays filled with sun
Smell the roses, won’t you When you walk out side Pop into a garden, filled with the Colours of nature, trees, flowers
Everything you can imagine just For the visual pleasures of us all Stroll around, see the marvels
Sit on the bench, inhale All the fragrants, your nose could ever Have imagined, feeling peaceful, watching
The butterflies, birds and bees Busy at work, gathering their sustenance, but Your task, is to relax And there is really nothing wrong with that
“There be cats here!” Gun Roswell
Nonchalant
I don’t care If you sit there and stare I don’t so really care as my time has no spare I don’t Tory not care I know I got the special flare I don’t for a moment care For I am more important, than anyone else out there As I am a cat, a cat with a daring stare
“There is something about the open sea, when in a boat, out there in the open wide, even if it is a simple dingy of a vessel, it is fine, as it is so totally freeing simply letting the waves lull you, to some place far away…” Gun Roswell

Boats, and similar vessels can take you there, somewhere
The calm of the sea, the colour, the texture, the all, I wish I could just flee, in a boat, no matter the size or the contents, just as long as it moves, slow or fast, is fine as I can just get out there, to the open, wild waves, carrying me everywhere and anywhere, forgetting my past, even if that fact will only for a moment last, being one with the ocean of the world, to be gently hurled until it is time to come back and face the slack I may have caused while on the shore, as oh life, what a total bore, you can be, sometimes and the only good options seems to be, the wide open sea.

“The other one is taller than the smaller one, but they do support each other very well” Gun Roswell

Tall against the blue skies, with a touch of red on the side
The tall lighthouse was sticking out, from the bed rock from which it firmly sprouts. Ever so gorgeous and made from solid rock, seemingly, nothing it could stop, from reaching towards the blue open and wide skies, singing many a song of all that which is divine.
But, the truth was, that the tall one could not survive without, being tethered with its small side kick of a tiny wooden shack, painted in red, dangerously so, as even seemingly making it only in tow of the tall handsome structure, the smaller one was, the stronger one of the two, never swaying in the wind, even if it could never sing the beautiful notes to reach for the skies.
