Darkness and Light
‘Twas the darkest of seasons
No way to put a smile on
But a small light was lit
And that was only the beginning of it
Many a more
Turned their lights on
And then the world
Was not so dark anymore
Category Archives: sunday
A slow summer’s day
a slow summer’s day
a slow day,
in summer
sunshine,
no reason to whine?
just sit chill and unwind
soon it will be winter,
anyway
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a whole week?
“Yeah, time really does fly, or simply days?” Gun Roswell
so, sunday
which means tomorrow monday
then tuesday
after that, wednesday
then another thursday
after that, thank gooddness friday
weekend begins with saturday
then we’ll back in sunday
oh, how time flies…
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Sunday weather
“Sundays’ truly are full of surprises” Gun Roswell
A surprise
Waiting in the skies
Grey clouds forming
Soon, to be storming
Tiny triplets of water
Splashing down
Onto the driest of grounds
What a lovely sound
Finally, life
After such a long strife
Now dancing
Outside glancing
What could be more wonderful
Than water
Of it buckets full
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Spring Sunday
“Shiny, slow, Sunday” Gun Roswell
Woke up late
Did not hesitate
To jump outside
Feeling the open wide
Alas the hot air
Felt bad on my fair
And delicate skin
Because I’m a Finn
And not used to degrees
Over thirty odd seems
So now, sitting
Inside thinking
What could be cool
And no require tools
But there is nothing
To choose from
Sunday fun
It’s just a pun
Invented by
Someone who denied
The whole day
And went somewhere
Else to play
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Sunday, will remain on my mind
“Sunday is so much better than Monday” Gun Roswell
Why, is Sunday
Always on my mind?
When the working week starts
And Monday feelings smart
I have Sunday on my mind
If Tuesday brings some fun
Until Wednesday things get done
But enter Thursday
A total loose day
And again, I have Sunday on my mind
Finally Friday arrives
My face all in smiles
Feelings of Sunday on the arise
Quickly passes Saturday
My proverbial Caturday
One more night to sleep
In a slumber so deep
Dreaming, of Sunday
The one day
Always, on my mind
Oh universe, please be so kind
And let it always be, Sunday!
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Sunday on the streets of Paris
“A small cafe in Paris just around the corner hidden away from prying eyes“ Gun Roswell
Sunday and a cup of coffee, a perfect combination for the brief time allotted
Sneaking away, stealing time from it all just for a few precious moments
As this was supposed to be the one day, which is the day of some time off
Alas, something came up, as it usually does and the chances growing slim
But luckily there is a perfect kind of spot, hidden around the corner just off
The busy streets where the cats sleep, at least on a sunny day on Sunday
Alas not today, as everyone seems to be gone completely somewhere else
As soon as the small cafe coming to view I can see that not even a few or one
Patrons are present so I guess it is only for me myself and I so seating down
My frown turning upside down, yes it is a smile which away has been a while
But not today as now I can here alone with my thoughts for a moment stay
In this pleasurable place on this fine Sunday afternoon on a seat in a cafe
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A Snowy Bench to Sit on
“Try it, it might feel okay, not too cold nor too hot, a respite of sorts” Gun Roswell
A Snowy Bench to Sit on
I finally found it
A bench made of metal
For me to sit
Soft as a petal
A purr-fect fit
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The Archway by the Sea
“Built to last, from the past to the future, and in the present we admire, the structure guiding us to the high seas” Gun Roswell
The Archway by the Sea
A long, long time ago
A land, that had started to grow
Developing, building
Slowly growing
Into a great big giant
Of art and science
Architecture and ambience
There was peace among the inhabitants
No was nor unpleasantries
Everyone equal
But alas
There was no sequel
The forces of nature
Showed their envy and hatred
Wiping out all but one
Standing now, under the scorching sun
To remind the future generations
As nothing really
Lasts for ever
But a solitary reminder
Of days so much finer
The very archway
At the solemn sea
What is now left standing
Of the proud people so demanding
Is an archway,
By the sea
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Under the umbrella
“Under my umbrella, there is shadow” Gun Roswell
Under the umbrella
When the sun is high
In the afternoon sky
Skin starts to burn
And then it will hurt
Make a b-line
Where you can feel fine
Under the umbrella
Also called a parasol
Away from the light
Into the shadows
Where the cool window blows
Sip on a drink
Do not anything think
Just into the moment
Let yourself sink
Life can be great
Even under
The bright umbrella
Rantings Of A Third Kind 