Poetry of Everything
“Ride the smallest bike imaginable! It even has a motor in it!” Gun Roswell
The mini bike
Two wheeled little bike
Parked on the side
Working days long and hard
Hardly getting a rest or charge
But still going strong
And it’ll be a while until you are done
“Take a tour around the city of Helsinki, riding a yellow bike for the day” Gun Roswell
The Yellow Bike(s)
City bikes of yellow
For every gal and fellow
Driving by and waving hello
Before we break for jell-o
Happy Valentine’s Day? Why not?
The love shared upon this day might be a little bit overwhelming
At least for a soul somewhat having prepared to be their precious time alone spending
Alas, when entering the glorious and often times anonymous World Wide Web
The eyes are certainly fixed on the plethora of greetings and wishes there sent
By he colourful tableau of cards in bits and bytes capturing cuteness without a strife
A true representation of the ongoing life?
Well, I guess it is all just… well… fine?
As this day is supposed to be for lovers and all kinds of friends
Sharing all their devotion, those pesky emotions and feelings with a note and a possible present
Yet, I cannot help but feel some kind of opposite way much to my dismay
Of all this affection on this day out there on display
So, guess my point of it all to make
Was not that it’s all just fake
Rather, yes have your day and eat your cake
Mr Valentine, whomever you were, given us the name
Is all good to me, but please
If you truly care, never your words of love spare
State them out each and every single day
To those closest to your heart, chilly or not
As that is truly the right way
“Trying to pedal up the hill in a snow storm??? Fun, right!” Gun Roswell
An Uphill Battle
Ride, ride, ride your bike
Gently up the hill
Merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily
Life spent in a chill
(At least in winter!)
“It’s just like riding a bike! Guess it is, only this time it’s done in snow!” Gun Roswell
Bikes in Winter Times
The several bikes under the tree taking cover from the winter’s deep and tormenting lash of snow, but that is just what it looks like from far away, as these bikes are here to stay, and even totally slay the snows of the winter, never ever fearing the weather, as they have been permanently tethered to this land of cold by their very riders so bold.
So for now, riding along, no matter spring, summer, fall or winter, these bikes and their riders are fierce and do not mind a challenge, not even something bad or ominous foretold. As they take their two wheelers out there, in the open air, peddling gingerly away, as they are not the ones long in one place to stay. And so, no matter the heavy snow fall, the bikes and their bikers stand tall, against the weather gods.
Of course, the shovel is a necessary tool, when packing for the wintery cold, as digging out from the cover light sometimes, cannot be done by hand and well, that might be the only negative, or then it is the ice roads. Then again, spikes to the wheels and thinking of the snow pushing as a sport, the nothing can go wrong for these winter riders.
“Riding a bike in the snow can be fun, that is if you can find the bike under the snow first of all!” Gun Roswell
Bikes in Winter Times
In snow, not cotton
Buried, but not forgotten
Wheels, maybe slightly rotten
Never mind,
I will think of something
For riding my bike
There is no stopping!
“Riding a bike, in winter? Well, guess it takes all kinds, huh?” Gun Roswell
Bikes in Winter Times
Winter be spite
I am riding my bike
Enjoying the ride
Even down a slippery
And extremely icy slide!
“Snow, snow, snow and then some” Gun Roswell
Something about… snow?
Trees,
Without leaves
Pines,
Without vines
Snow
An equalizer
“Roses of any colour are so gorgeous, even in black and white poses” Gun Roswell
Roses of red in monochrome pose
The neatly made arrangement, in the tall vase
Making sure, the flowers, in an orderly stance stay
The fresh cut stems, certainly trimmed to fit
As all the colourful, roses inside of it neatly sit
The pose, so completely natural, it’s almost second nature
The plush petals trimmed, to reminisce that of a statue
The strong yet delicate odour, filling, the surrounding air
As such is the nature, of this ever so romantic floras flair
Even, when stripped all the way down, to the bare basics
The lush colours, the volume, and all other imaginable clicks
These, as the most beautiful roses, still stand tall in their form
Grey in colour now, but, that could have easily been the norm
But, it does not really matter in the end, too much really
Whether the image can be seen sharp, or even so clearly
And certainly no kind of colour, even black or white
Can bring out the very essence or do just justice
“The world is filled with so much colour, so better add some black and white to it!” Gun Roswell
Cloud Building in the High Skies
Is it a mirage?
A clever camouflage?
What ever the cause
You can only applause
Rantings Of A Third Kind 