Olden Days I two

”Everything was so much better in the good old days!” Gun Roswell

Olden Days

Rustic

It may not be too chick
Even if it’s turning its other cheek
A cottage one could call rustic
Someone else would say quite busted
The wooden walls, soon to fall
Windows leaking, sometimes shrieking
Noises never heard
It inhabitants may disturb
But it’s always been in the family
So, giving it up, is not so easy

Maybe a new coat of paint
Will cover at least some of the stains
New doors and windows
Will prevent the wind blowing
At least indoors
The kitchen sink, which always stinks
Washing it up, may stop it
For a while at least
It all seems to be at peace
Until the next time then,
When,
Something is breaking down!

Olden Days I one

”Everything was so much better in the good old days!” Gun Roswell

Olden Days

 Laundry Day

When airing, your clean or dirty laundry
Just make sure, to not show off anything tawdry
People, these days, are so easily offended
And then, you will only get arrested
Even if to all your mistakes and faults you confessed
And told them all, it wasn’t even your dress there

So now, trying to explain your way out of this big mess
As the old school clothes seemed to be so filled with holes, no less

“But they were just fine a minute ago, or maybe it was ten years, I really don’t know,
Tell me why I should perfectly good garment away throw,
Even with big, see through holes,
They really keep me nice and cool, when the wind blows”

The argument for and against may have taken too long
In the end, the end results for either side were none too strong

Today, once again, is laundry day
My raggedy old things, on the washing line sing
The same old broken song,
Even joining, is the odd thong

“We may be old and worn, but we will not be scorned
By anyone’s looks of long, as there is nothing with us wrong (not really)
And we will hold together, with a thinnest of tethers
Until we are discarded, and into carpets yarn
So, never mind us here, just look over there!”

The Guard Cat

“Cats, are everywhere, thank goodness!” Gun Roswell

The guard cat

The guard of a cat
The cat on a wall sat
Sat as pretty as a cat
Cat of a guard nature
Nature which causes some hatred
Hatred just because he hunts
Hunts to keep the pests away
Away as far as he can slay
Slay the rats and other types
Types which might harm cause
Cause of being too many
Many enough for the cat to hunt
Hunt as he only can
Can, because this yard is his land
Land he can only protect
Protect and then be rewarded
Rewarded by his hoomans
Hoomans to whom the cat works
Works to keep the safe
Safe, as he only can be
Be, the ultimate guard cat ever seen

Directions I two

“It’s all in the perspective of things” Gun Roswell

Directions 

Flying Up

Catching the winds of spring
Soaring high up, my song to sing
I am a pretty bird in flight
And I may not always choose right
But I am sure this direction
Is the one I need for completion
Of my getting up so high
Even so far as the crows fly
Despite being a miniature beaked thing
There is no rule saying I cannot sing
And thusly, I am up here
In the open wide stratosphere
Higher than any other bird ever
In your face, for being clever!

Directions I one

“It’s all in the perspective of things” Gun Roswell

Directions 

Going Down?

On a direction, one way, towards, the subway
Deep down, below, under the ground, we now go
Stepping on the steep steps, off the railing never go let
Never can be too sure, what creatures lure
Behind the shadow, inside the dim lit tunnels
Running quickly, feeling a tad sickly
Then, on to the platform, every single one of us storm
A train approaching, no time for second guessing
Hopping on, hope being truly strong
That it was going to the right direction
But still the feeling of anticipation
Maybe, just maybe, I got really confused
And went into the absolutely wrong direction!

Peekaboo

“Peekaboo, I see you!”

Peekaboo

From its current hiding
It comes out looking for something
But then suddenly backing
Never any answers giving or asking

Playing, toying, lurking
Peeking, checking, probing

You may try a tactic different today,
Then shout out:
“Hey, you there; why don’t you come out and play!?”

There is no way of knowing
Whether it’s coming or going
Whatever it has decided of doing
It is for sure, there will be a surprise

Laying low, until it’s time to blow
But for now, just taking it slow

And then: out of the blue:
“Peekaboo, I see you!”

Our Baab (RIP)

“Baab has left the building”

Barbro “Baab” Roswall 1936-2019

Our Baab

She liked to dig in the garden
Even though the terrain was hardened
Taking care of her flowers
Because in them, were all the answers

Sometimes life gave her lemons too
But smirking she said, I will eat a few
The good days and the bad days
She still lived life in her own way

Tough around the edges
But a big heart inside
She had covered all the bases
And we followed her, as a guide

Baab:
You might not be the head gardener
In them gardens divine
But take care of them flowers
And you’ll do just fine!

Hoist the Sails I three

“Time for summer winds and sails” Gun Roswell

Hoist the Sails

Close to the mountains

Close enough to the seashore
As I try to some mountains score
That is simply, because
I really want a picture perfect to adore

So now, here I am, browsing
The sea line slowly drowsing
Hoping for that best of scenes
In my view point to achieve

Maybe not today, maybe not to tomorrow
But I know that even if I have to borrow
An image from some other land
I will get my mountain view as here I stand (or sail)

Hoist the Sails I two

“Time for summer winds and sails” Gun Roswell

Hoist the Sails

Alone at the seas

In the middle of nowhere
Nothing to see and nothing to guide her
The tiny vessel with a lonesome sail
You and her, looking mighty frail

Prayers and wishes are of no use
But turning back you totally refuse
Still running low on supplies and fuse
Wondering “what the hell am I to do?”

Then it gets darker, now that wasn’t smarter
Surely we are doomed, and it’s all ending too soon
Alas, a few dots of light, in the high skies
Suddenly appear, an all that shaking fear, will completely disappear

When steering by the northern star
The land can never be too far
And finding a safe harbor, not a huge labor
Any longer, and as closer you get, feeling of living another day, getting so much stronger

Hoist the Sails I one

“Time for summer winds and sails” Gun Roswell

Hoist the Sails

Near the coast line

When a total newbie by the sea
And all you want to do is to just flee
Then turn your head towards the gleam
Of the sun shining prettier than ever seen
Close your eyes for a moment please
Now wish upon the glittering beams
Of the reflections on the surface
Fe the yearning, your insides burning
The open your eyes, don’t you feel just fine?
And completely ready to the demands of the ocean comply?
Then set sail, never being afraid
Towards the future as you let the seaside you nurture