Poetry of Everything
“It’s that time of the week, the time for a throwback, waaaay back!” Gun Roswell
Throwback Thursday 1-2
Blemish and wrinkle free
Ah! I just love those photogenic filters!
What marvelous are them inventions!
The end result, always so slim and fit
Never, ever wrinkly, and certainly not, looking like shit!
Maybe even add a touch of monochrome
And, voila, you really got a great tone!
“Summer, should be I think, as the calendar says, “July”, but why is it snowing?” Gun Roswell
Summer, summer, where art thou summer?
When the month of July is upon
You start, to really hard, to wonder on
As to where the summer has gone
It did not appear at all this year
And then you already start to fear
As the winter season slowly but surely grows near
It’s not so warm as you might have expected
But if you look close enough, you can something detect
A ray of light, on to the waters edge reflected
Maybe there is still hope after all
Before the coming of a complete fall
Despite the weather so gloomy and dulll
At least it’s not as freezing cold
Even if the weather forecast hail showed
And it’s above the freezing point or so
Summer in the month of July
Sometimes it’s good sometimes, just fine
But there is really no denying:
It could be worse, as we could have snow
“So high, it’s piercing the skies” Gun Roswell
On the Top
It’s so high, it is reaching the tallest sky
The towering clock, which will never, ever stop
And, a cross on the top, to be on the safer side of things
Because, you’ll never know, what forces may be lurking
From their hide, maybe even flanking from all sides
Alas, the tower is secure, no matter what will lure
On the top, is the place to be
On the top, everywhere you see
On the top, no where left to go
On the top, never the time to take it slow
On the top, the only way is down
On the top, but maybe, you can reach for the clouds
“You’ll always need at least two tools” Gun Roswell
Two Tools
A shovel and an old school bike
Two tools, you may need for work
Or even, if you plan to go on a strike
Useful things with which you’ll never falter
Even if your life may drastically alter
It is fun peddling to any near of far location
And if you need a tool or a weapon
The shovel will be handy in any occasion
Old school useful things are the best
No need for electricity or other kind of stress
Use them both wisely, never have to think twice
And as you down the road with you bike and shovel rush
Everyone will wave and maybe get a few smiles
“A calm, cloudy, and sunny Sunday, what a contradiction indeed!” Gun Roswell
Summer Sunday at the Beach
When the Sunday time, loudly, its present chimed
We ran, like we were on fire, out there, from the dire
Into the open wild nature, with colours so lush
There really was no need for any kind of rush
To enjoy the art work devised by our beloved Mother Nature
Was there for everyone to see, without any kind of fee
But we ran, as fast as any one can, really
For you see, there was somewhere else we wanted to be, really
Beside the calm and cooling waters, fooling around like a bunch of sea otters
We made our way, discarding all clothing, falling where ever they may
Splashing into the soft waves, letting the healing waters save
Ourselves in the process, as this was the place for us, the total bliss
We played and frolicked, until the darkness descended we stayed
Then only, reaching for the softest of sands, lending each other a hand
To find the discarded garments, a little dirty, maybe even sandy, was a mild statement
But nobody cared, as it had all been time so well spent
Out here, on the beach, on this summer’s Sunday we had reached
And if we were to be lucky, maybe next weekend, we could come back again
“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!”
“Far, in the horizon, is the city, I yearn to visit, some day” Gun Roswell
Painted Cityscape
From the depths of my very mind
I am an image so hard, trying to find
But I also know, as it is one of a kind
It might be just an impossible task to re-find
A dream painted in the back of my head
When or where was this place ever fed
Scanned, permanently, into my visual cortex
I still don’t know, but I am searching the index
If I had the ability within me, I would paint
The image so totally vivid, and so utterly quaint
But alas, I have to rely on my poor memory
And just hoping, this picture, will never fade
“It’s that time of the week, the time for a throwback, waaaay back!” Gun Roswell
Throwback Thursday 1-2
These were the golden days?
How was it, way back then?
When all you had, was so much time to spend?
All those big plans ahead of you
Choices to be made, were more than a few
The image, in front of you now, might be a little faded
But did you manage to do, all those things back then stated?
“It looks so cool to be able to fly around all the time” Gun Roswell
It’s a Bees Life
It’s a fun way of life
Life, up in the skies
Skies, so blue it’s almost, untrue
Untrue, as I seem to be
Be, as I am a flying bee
From flower to flower I pop
Pop, and open up each lot
Lot, are there to choose from
From, each and every one
One, or more I drain from
Flying, buzzing, never stopping
Stopping, only for some shopping
Shopping, for the nectar I need
Need, as my queen I will feed
Feed, until she can no more eat
It’s a bees life
Life, without a strife
Strife as the humans see it
It, well, hey shit!
I might get stomped on!
“Just hanging, listening, observing, checking things out” Gun Roswell
Fly on the wall
I, am a small fly, sitting on the wall
Wall, which from I won’t totally fall
Fall, would be a terrible thing
Thing, as if I would be killed
Killed, to the very death!
I am but a fly on this wall
Wall, observing everything
Everything, and nothing
Nothing, as today’s such a bore
Bore, because I have no sugar!
Ah, sugar, the essence of life
Life, this tiny little fly’s treat
Treat, as in a sugary snack
Snack, as without it I would slack
Slack, well, yes, you know, lazy!
I basically don’t do much
Much, as humans consider such
Such, is the life of a fly
Fly, but now, I really have to fly
So, bye bye!
Rantings Of A Third Kind 