Poetry of Everything
“Be careful out there, it’s a slippery slope, the edge that is, so don’t fall off!” Gun Roswell
When standing on the edge
I made this solemn pledge
To dive in
Even if,
There would be ice thin
Luckily,
This September weather
Is a reminiscent of a soft feather
More so,
Than a rainy autumn
Boy,
Must the Forecast Gods feel dumb!
“Be prepared, the cold weather is here! Soon, it will be summer no more, as winter, always wins, as it is, strong.” Gun Roswell
Nature in pending status
Almost like being on hiatus
Leaves of multicolour
Covered with sugary frost
The misty air softly hovers
Over last night’s rain drops
Now frozen in their spots
A glimmer of sunlight
The only a reflection in sight
Soon enough the colour fades
The frost of rain only remains
And the Autumn turns
To Winter
“Trees and leaves, the change of weather, the change of time, fall, august, has arrived” Gun Roswell
Mother Nature’s work of art
Colourful, simple and smart
Winter, Spring, Summer or Fall
Following the ancient protocol
“The colours are chaining now, it’s most certainly the time for autumn!” Gun Roswell
Roaming around the Hood
Because the weather was really good
Clouds floating in the blue sky
Wishing if only I could fly
The sun warm on my skin
Melting the coldest of Finns
Colours burning bright
Ideas taking flight
Snap, click, snap, click
Hoping to score some great pics
So here they are
I didn’t walk too far
But still got a great bunch
In a time it takes to have lunch
“The air is crisp, the nature going aslumber, it’s fall, autumn time for us all.” Gun Roswell
The last warm days
Before the cold rains
It is time to prepare
But do not despair
Summer may be ending
The nature surely changing
Soon it will be autumn
But the colours
Will be awesome
“Something so special while waking up early, a sunrise spotted surely!” Gun Roswell
Sunrise, higher than high
In the early September sky
Over the morning clouds
The sun has spread its shroud
Blues and reds playing in a mix
Eyes staring completely transfixed
The cool crisp air caressing
Almost feels like singing
“Life on the rocks, it certainly is!” Gun Roswell
Hard and cold they be, when autumn us sees
Onto the land falls, life slowing down to a halt
A frown on the faces forming, when it starts storming
Grey skies the constant companion with me now
It’s life on the slippery, watery rocks after all
Hence the name, or the expression, fall?
“I know many things?” Gun Roswell
I may know a little bit of everything
But sometimes, I am just pretending
When I get into a dark corner
And there is no kind of door there
I use humour, to dig my way out
Sometimes, I even have to shout!
The noise sprouting out of my mouth
So loud and silly, it’s just all, willy nilly
And then, I really do feel guilty
Then out pours the utter most filthy!
So guess you can say
I’m so stupid I just pretend
Play the part of the fool
Being a total tool
A Jack of no trades
And a master, of none?
“I think I just may be, a tad paranoid?”
Voices, noises
Never good with so many choices
Watching, looking, staring
Who’s in my kitchen cooking
Daemons, angels, the devil perhaps?
God, Jesus and all those things fictional
Aliens and conspiracies more so
Paradoxes, global warming
At least that one is true!
The FBI, police forces, neighbours even
And with their cats and dogs too!
They are all watching, me!
I am, becoming, quite paranoid
“I have no idea?” Gun Roswell
I have no new ideas
My mind is completely blank
Writing this un-rhyming poem
Is the only thing of I could think
Something, something…
I guess is better than
Nothing?
But I do what I can
(Do I really?)
Scribbling on my smart phone
Trying to create the perfect poem
And simply realising I am just repeating
The one missing thing all over again
So I am stopping
Right here, right now
Before my brain is popping out
I will try to take a break
From being a writer fake?
Rantings Of A Third Kind 