“It’s like a blast from the past, all that volcanic land!” Gun Roswell






Scenic views
Ocean of blue
Fluffy clouds
Dancing allowed
Palm trees
In abundance
Sunshine
With substance
Photography
“Something about the island far far away, out there on the ocean… something mysterious?” Gun Roswell




A stroll around down town
A Lidl and a few shoeshops found
Time for a scenic break
Before to the road we take
Down to the busy harbour
Checking both port and starboard
Both filled with tourists a flocking
Guess it wasn’t shocking
After all, a pleasent place
A seashore the perfect interface
“Something about the island… something volcanic?” Gun Roswell





The skies the colour of blue
Clouds fluffy, but far and few
Sun shining ever so brightly
The pool beckoning and inviting
The dwellings painted in white
This definitely is our “campsite”
Home away from home for a week
What else could one want or seek
“A day at the beach, ride a bike or just simply be!” Gun Roswell





Palma Nova
The sweetest Rosa
Of the island Mallorca
Welcomes
The weary traveler
A world’s passenger
Come
And take a load off
Forget all that scoff
Enjoy the sunny beach
Watch the waves breach
Colourful and vibrant
Like a water hydrant
The little village by the sea
No better place to be
“She sits there, whispering all kinds of secrets, so you’d better listen very carefully what the Oracle has to say!” Gun Roswell






History written in stone
Time to get my mind blown
Hiking up the many stairs
Counting my steps in pairs
The many ancient ruins
On top of the mountain
The reward of the effort
Which made me sweat a lot
“So, we meet again! My dearest, not! Monday! Why can’t you be gone already?” Gun Roswell

Monochromatic
It’s really electric
Even with only a few colours
You can smell the odours
Of the world of greys
Where all the light
And even shadows stay
Monochromatic
Is the world often seen
But even the plain shades
From white to all the greys
The nuances are there
You just need to stare
And up they pop, in your face
Monochromatic
I am getting quite ecstatic
The dance of light
And the bass of shadow
Never me fail
Just letting it all go
The bright colours
Do not bother me anymore
“It’s like sitting on a piece of history.” Gun Roswell
I was looking for
A bench to sit on
What I hoped to score
Something close to a lawn
To lay my tired self
On a softer shelf
Then I saw it
The bench, made of stone
When I tried to sit
I felt it to my bones
Too hard for a fit!
Moving forward
I found one, made of wood
Maybe it wasn’t hard
Rather suitably good
Too soft for a fit!
So once again
I had to complain
But I knew, the right seat
Was just in reach
I just had to seek
A little while longer
As I moved along
The feeling now stronger
I knew it wouldn’t be long
I was close to finding
As I saw the metal shining
I finally found it
A bench made of metal
For me to sit
Soft as a petal
A purr-fect fit
“The looks of grumpiness, doesn’t always mean, that the mood reflects the face” Gun Roswell

Sitting there, on the floor, looking, oh so very bored, so much so, that some might say, it was grumpy, without any kind of funky thing to do. After all, this was the one day of the week, where celebrating the feline freak, was supposed to be that special beat, which the cats and kitties marched by. But today, there was no big smile, on the furry face, definitely not a wagging tail, only a feeling of epic fail. What could be a cause of such distain? Something which certainly needed to be fixed in a hurry right away.
The keeper of the sad cat, wondered of the exact topic, for a moment, before coming up with a kind of a plan, which she hoped, would get the mood of the furry feline turn from uninterested sleeping to a happier stand. So, the first thing, was to get some treats together, meaning the best kind of fish forever. Then, some cool toys to play with, a few moments the spirits to uplift. And the final treat, well, isn’t that obvious for a Caturday ball? A big bag of catnip served, from the finest of colourful bowls, and wouldn’t you know it, after the rattling of the tuna can top, the grumpy cat, came running around the corner, clearly gone was the sad and replaced by loud purring cheers, all around the keepers feet.
“Well, it’s another year and another birthday, but is still feel like that rather shabby nineteen year old person I once was!“ Gun Roswell



The writer of this ditty, found a photo of herself when she was an itty-bitty kiddy. Just a toddler seated in her moms lap, a proud parent I guess at that back then in the something somethings when life was so much simpler, at least if the smiles on the faces are any kind of inkling. So guess back then, I really had the world on a string. And adding to that the eagerness to dance and sing or at least perform in some fashion, from a few years on, all that looking back, seemed like a good deal to be inside of and some of the memories are just great, while others, well, those one can always fake, right!?
So, a few decades has now passed, since that selfie of sorts from the past and like the image it self, can last for a long, long time, despite being old and wrinkled, but not I! And yeah, guess I have to admit, that taking to account everything and all I am feeling fine, despite whatever thoughts of darkness might land on my own mind every now and again but hey, that is just time spent too much with myself. And certainly nothing to do with age as that is a simple number on the cake. But yeah, as sometimes in my slumber, bad thoughts occur, but hey, that is fine, as I am fine and most of those surround me are just fine so, putting on a smile for today at least and then a little later on, I will most certainly off of my b-day cake feast.
So whatever ranting this little ditty might be, I will keep on having my birthdays for, well, hopefully eternity. The next goal is set as a hundred and fifty. Yeah I know that sounds so, well science fiction-y. But as I have always planned on living forever, guess that is not such a impossible goal now or even ever.