Poetry of Everything
“The yacht or big big ship, whatever the name for it, it’ll fare you across the huge waters!” Gun Roswell
Boats and ships
Fully equipped
For a trip
Filled with fun
Under the sun
Or just a weekend layover
In some other land
Somewhere close
Back by Monday
If you can
This weeks Mundane Monday, really, started early
But then again, I could not have been less surely
As it seemed, that all the lights had been switched off
Both inside and out, no matter what the clock
Then, I recalled, that it was indeed, that time of the year
When the sun has run away, most likely in fear
Of the upon coming, of the never waited winter season
Well, it seems to be, at least, the best guessed reason
As the darkening of all the above skies, there, hover
For the next few months, and there really is no bother
To consider what the time states on the clock
As it will be twilight, even if you had sunshine managed to stock
So, just hold on to what ever light you can get your hands on
As the utter fight for that ultimate and shining light
Has begun, amongst the Northern tribes, and it’s certainly not fun
As the struggle is real and the people are moving like stunned
Alas the electrical devices, mimicking the daylight shining
Are grabbed and bought, in a state of total whining
Never mind, when you get back home and find
That the lamp you thought, would bring you to shine
Turns out to be either less efficient or worse of all, broken
So, your only hope is to either go back and hope there is one more
Or then, just go back to bed and stay indoors
Until such time of the year, when you look out and leer
Because it’s spring and the sun is switched on again!
Coffee on a Tuesday
Coffee on a Wednesday
Coffee on a Thursday
Even some on a Friday…
A completely different story
On a Saturday
Coffee double shots
From full brewed pots
It may be a lot
But not for a Sunday
That is another day
When drinking coffee
Is allowed
Now on Monday…
Well, that is a whole new story!
…The carriage of comfort
Has lifted you upwards
Your destination dead ahead
Nothing more left to be said
“Mirror mirror on the wall
Am I still the evilest of them all?
And more precisely, are my shoes
The shiniest in the world?
The Red Shoe Queen demanded the mirror.
An image appeared into the mirror’s glass and with an evil grin responded:
“Undoubtedly, you are quite evil, my dearest Queen. But, there is another….”
The Queen stared at the mirror, wanting it to crack, from a mere look.
Standing in the sun’s light
Between the tall shadows
Selfies of a different kind
Listening to the echoes
Before the end of twilight
And the rising of the moon
Night time falling soon
“Friday’s are inheritable freaky, aren’t they? Hence the term, Freaky Friday, because you’ll never know, what kinks the weekend may bring…” Gun Roswell’
The early hours of the morning
Came, with a dire warning
The powers that be, were none too happy
And sending down, weather oh so crappy
Which was their way of utter kind of revenge
On to the lowly populous down on the ground now clenched
There was no sunshine to be seen
Alas also, no stormy clouds, on the skies kind of pristine
Only an eerie, soggy, all compassing shroud
Could be felt, across the people, the land, and all around
The visibility next to none
The kids, gloomy, loosing their fun
What kind of living could this be
Since there was nothing or no one to be seen
Yielding to their horrific fate
The dwellers down below resorted to prays
Trying their all to sooth down the tall
For several long hours of wait
The gods above, started to hesitate
Maybe then had been way to harsh
For the people living on the soggy marsh
Waving their hands of power
The fog, the mist, the eerie, was soon devoured
By a low glowing ball like thing
The light, which softly stated to sing
The surroundings soon starting to change
Into something more pleasant with less pain
The people below now thanking the gods above
A lesson with great price learnt
As the message “Never again, take you weather gods for granted”, was sent
The evening falls
The sun is setting
Soon it is time to crawl
Into the bedding
But before that
Taking a few snaps
Of the setting sun
The eve was about to set
I was once again treated
With a another gorgeous sunset
Today, on this Monday
One of the last days of October
Type, type, type
Work, work, work
Finally, a break
Looking out the window
The sun beckoning
Stepping outside
Half way through the door
Something hits me
Like a lightning
It’s cold outside now
It’s after all, October
Time to put a coat on
Stepping out, first step…
But wait!
Don’t forget the camera!
