Poetry of Everything
“There is something about the early morning mist on the waters edge, eerie, but pretty” Gun Roswell
Muggy Waters
Greeted by a view in monochrome
A foggy visual in complete monotone
Water’s surface windblown
Someone give me a phone!
This image needs to be known
Or my fame will be with the winds gone
“Winter’s art painted across the lands, stays on display, never bland, until it’s time to fade away” Gun Roswell
Winter cold and white but harmonious
Cold, white and monochrome
Nature silent under the snowy dome
But, when the sun paints a triple rainbow
The beauty will bring you to an awe
“The silence has descended upon nature this winter” Gun Roswell
The Forest covered in Snow
Forest filled with snow
Branches hanging low
Life still or very slow
It’s winter; Hello!?
“The time for sleep for nature is upon” Gun Roswell
Frozen in time for the Season
Frozen,
In space and time
Leaves,
In dozen a dime
“During winter, it usually snows, a lot!” Gun Roswell
Slippery Winter Road
Winter, winter
Gave me a splinter
Looking, at my finger
Let out, a whimper
Oh, what a stinker
Is this, snowy winter!
“The night or the day, no matter which way you decide to cypher it, the moon is out there, hanging above even if somewhat dimly lit“ Gun Roswell
The moon in noir
The moon was out, hanging above in the clear blue sky, nothing there to spy, not really, but it could have as easily have been in the middle of the night, as the light, was so dim.
Either because of the timing, being that of summer, the day never ending, and so day or night, all the same, as the sun and moon together keeps on spinning.
Or then, it was the day of a ver dark and dreary autumn month, the shades blurring in together, to each other, the shadow, the light, all the grey shades of neither and then both, the monochrome, the noir, all of it one simple colour.
Whatever it is you see up there with your own bare eyes, is the truth, whether the sky is blue, or pitch black dark, the moon is always there, looking mighty smart.
“Oh the snow! It just keeps on pouring, doesn’t it!” Gun Roswell
Winter in Black and White
No sense in wasting colour
It won’t get any better or duller
The nature all in monochrome
Like after a white paint bomb
“Life in black and white like in the olden days, so simple and neat, am I right!?” Gun Roswell
Life at sea in Monochrome
I am neither black or white
I am just a grey delight
Maybe not so much fun
Being only a colour of one
That of a monotone
But not a clone
Or then I am, whatever
But,
You may call me,
Monochrome
“My philosophy is quite simple: it’s not just black and white, but sprinkled with so many shades of grey” Gun Roswell
The Flower
Going, going, almost gone
Now from summer, it’s so long
But something else, will come along
When fall and then winter
Will sing their songs
“Black and white? The two colours shine so very bright, am I right?!” Gun Roswell
The Lighthouse
A tall tower and its smaller twin
Living, side by side,
On an island, made from winds
With the blue ocean wide
And the land around them thin
No hiding, from the high tide
But together they survive
For they are kind
And nothing them, can divide
Rantings Of A Third Kind 