Photography
“When in Paris, the good times cherish”
Gun Roswell
A Trip to Paris
Take a ride around the town
Many a choices for a vehicle can be found
A bike ride safe and most simple
But with a hot car, your face may get more dimples
Down under, there are many a wonder
When riding the public transit, in a metro most fancy
Or maybe you prefer a blast from the past
In a pink car oh so very fast
“When in Paris, the good times cherish”
Gun Roswell
A Trip to Paris
Odds and ends in this city you will find
People, objects, art and places to unwind
Although, my trip very short and well timed
I will try to see it all and keep it in my mind
With my camera ready and aligned
Now it’s just a matter to step into the grind
“When in Paris, the good times cherish”
Gun Roswell
A Trip to Paris
Oh Paris, Paris
I want to look at thee
With everything, I see
I don’t ever want this place to flee
For, to all the places I have the key
And now, I am feeling happy and fancy free
Oh Paris, Paris
The everlasting city
“Almost every Monday I have a charity thing. I like that. I do” Yogi Berra
Red Roses
Roses are oh so very red
Violets can be the darkest of blues
But then again, so am I, so very divide
So try not so hard to mind
As this poem, is completely, out of any kind of rhyme
“Because it is a seat”
Old Town Respite
Sit down, slowly
Have a rest, boldly
In the old town, it’s the best
No need, for any kind of stress
After all, it’s Sunday, the time for less
“Cats rule the world.” Jim Davis
Caturday on Kos Island
“Are you looking at me?
You, looking, me?”
“Nah, I’m just resting here for a while
It’s cool, hope you don’t mind!”
“Well, as long as you remember,
You are in my turf now
So just move along before the clock hits September!”
Up or down, it’s still a frown” Gun Roswell
Up, then down
Looking up at a burger joint sign in the ever darkening skies
Then suddenly, sliding down the golden escalator, at the exact time
Is this a time warp, a wormhole or an other dimension
Or plain old mind trick, playing a game with my imagination?
It may be a dream on a Friday afternoon nap
Or simply a total concoction inside a writer head gone mad
We may never find out the real truth behind this tale
But does it really matter as the story for each reader will never mean the same?
“Free art on the streets smart” Gun Roswell
Smart street art
Painted in the streets
Most likely for free
Smart art at its best
For the enjoyment of us rest
The artist may be unknown
Appearing quickly, then gone
But leaving behind
Something wonderful and divine
With colours totally vivid
The onlookers going livid
Wanting to desperately buy
But this art work is not mine
Or yours or anyone else’s
Just painted for everyone’s senses
Enjoy, while it’s there
Who knows when it might disappear
A fleeting moment may be the existence
Of graffiti made on the instance
But dear art lover
Do not worry as you’ll soon discover
A new objet d’art
On these streets so smart
“Sky watching yet again, another sunrise on the horizon” Gun Roswell
Sky watching
As the early morning darkness fades
I am set and ready on my way
Hoping, not to be too late
To catch, at least, a glimpse, of the rising light
With my own, two dark eyes
And to admire that, of the magnificent sun’s rise
Watching the sky
I never feel like a spy
Only to simply admire
Of the marvels of what expires
When Mother Nature
Plays around like a true painter
Making art work of the simplest of things
Which will make each our hearts sing
“These are the signs of the times” Gun Roswell
Signs of our times
The sign said “Today is, a great day, for shopping”
Now, did not hat make you pause for a stopping?
Enter a store, for something special to score
Maybe something to adore, something even more?
But did you not already have everything you needed or wanted?
Is there a need for more of the fortunes to squander?
It really makes this one person wonder
Why you would need the more and not just the one thing
“No entry this way!”
Much to my anger and dismay
The sign of today
Did not leave much of a choice to play
“No, never, not”
These words twisting you into a tight knot
The negativity filling the clear air
Feeling the rise of all my skin hair
All of a sudden, the taste too musky, the air too misty
Throat and stomach a twisting
No clear air for breathing
I am getting that all consuming sinking feeling
The signs of our times
Sometimes, make you smile
But more than often
The missing of soften
Leaves you hard and hollow
And in utter and complete sorrow
Rantings Of A Third Kind 
