“The old house painted in flashy colours, inviting to say the least, so let’s step inside and see, what the fuss is all about” Gun Roswell
The ol’yellow house
Step right in, it’s open house today, all of this gorgeous yellowness is on for display, take a good look all around too see what interesting things in the ol’ yellow house can be found. After all this an archaic house, filled with hidden traits, trinkets and such, just at the very reach for those whom carefully seek. So, don’t get so bleak, rather step through the door and see what the yellow house has in store for you this time around.
Take a chance while you can, as the ol’ yellow house, might just be but a dream, not really what it seems and do, gone before you realize, as you walk through that door and take a good long stroll around the whole thing, it may be round like a ring, or then square like the box in, well town’s square. But whatever you can imagine, it will be there waiting there for you and so, stay a while, to get that smile on your face, because the next thing which will happen is, that you will wake up and it’s all gone. No more yellow house as it was all a simple dream.
“Building something, brick by brick, well, isn’t that rather archaic? Or maybe not, who knows, just to what you feel is right, do it!” Gun Roswell
Brick by brick
Building something great and lasting, brick by brick, seeing the end result growing each time you lay another one on the top of the former, each time, the structure growing bigger, taller, wider and even stronger, is certainly something worthwhile. Something, which upon completion, is much more worth than a single smile. Well, at first, it might be that, then small celebration, of the arduous and long lasting job finished, and what was there accomplished. Maybe a wall of sorts, a fence around the house, to be safe? Maybe even the house itself? Some stairs to take you up and down wherever you were going? Or a small grill on the outside, in the garden to make something to eat. Whatever it is you will want to speak of it, to be proud of it as building something with your own hands, something which may or may not last, it is still quite the feat, even if a tiny cheat, while luring your neighbours and friends to aid in the process. But no matter how it got there, it will be for a while, and for all to admire, all them bricks on top of bricks.
“The seat in the cafe outside in the sunshine is begging just to be sat down on” Gun Roswell
The seat in the cafe outside
The sun shining, at least for a while, as the rain season, is now. The side street cafes are finally open again, after a while of slumber, now broken. The people coming out, from the darkened rooms, smiling again, as the rain, has past and even if the shining sun is not there to last, they will survive the coming darkness, with this small piece of light. Some of them heading for the cafes, making their picks randomly, without a rush or hesitation, walking slowly out of pleasure of just being outside, in the open wide.
The smallest cafe of them all, with only a few stalls, a table here and there, with a chair of two, and almost hidden from the main view. But those who dare to wonder, a tad longer, will find the most inviting seats of them all, in this small house of coffee, or tea or whatever else the pleasure might just be. The point not being the beverage or the name of the place, rather that in this small house, the patrons, can a few more moments than usual stay, without rush and hurry, but simply in the moment gently sway and then when it’s time to go, that too will happen quite slow.
“There is a lot of activity up them tall hills, be that from this planet here or maybe from somewhere else, who knows, but still quite interested in finding that out am I, so guess, it’s time to fly or hike, up that slippery slope of a hill” Gun Roswell
The hill up ahead, strong and bold, standing tall, right there in front of us, weary travellers, watching in awe as the stories told, coming alive right in front of us. The tales of myths recited of others coming to this place, some of them like us, some more exotic and from far away places. But whatever the case or rather the truth behind all the colourful tales told, most of us here now standing below, were already sold at well, at “this is an odd tale” kind of a pitch. So, taking a hike towards this gorgeous rock we, the adventurers never intend to stop, until reaching that very top and finding out for our very selves, whether these storied told are as true as those who did the sales. Soon enough, climbing up the very rocky face of the tall, tall hill, trying to reach the perfect spot to observe and take in, all the sights below and those, shown also from above, the skies, the space and all of it out there, which ever way eyes can see and ears can hear, all of it in front of us and then, maybe, if we are lucky, we will get to meet those other travellers, from the very beyond, and exchange stories of the Sighting Hill.
“Under the shade giving parasol, situated on a beach, is, where I totally like to sit” Gun Roswell
The Shade and the Beach
On a lazy day in the middle of the hazy season I cannot find any one simple and totally good reason For staying away from the tempting summer’s beach Even if, someone, just might call me, a royal leach
As I am headed towards that sandy haven I listen to the other people and their constant craving Of taking some desperately needed and deserved, time off But I filter it all out, because I’ve decided, to differ from the lot
Reaching the designated place, with my trusted parasol I stay Under it because the sunlight might be burning fate Seated comfortably with enough food and drinks And some good reading my teeth into I can sink
I am finally out and totally day off kind of proud To be resting on the soft sandy beach without noises loud My mobile phone turned off and I am officially out of reach Because today is that kind of a day at the beach
Under the shade, of course The shade on this great beach
It’s another day of the week, naturally!” Gun Roswell
Tuesdays keep on coming, well once a week anyway!
The days come along one by one (usually the way they do) It’s almost like singing a song (verse by verse moving along) Today it’s Tuesday, when only yesterday it was Sunday (that’s how I recall it) And now, it’s getting late, no matter how I hesitate, tomorrow will be here, I can feel it near (What do you know: It’s Wednesday and midweek, what a geek!)
Guess I need to stop worrying about Mondays anyway (Oh, did you worry before? Did not know that…) Since the days keep on changing without my aid (Yeah, need a time machine for that!) Why worry about some day, when there is always the next day (True, do like the Spanish do, manana!) So, on this day of …ahem, Tuesday, I swear, not to worry about another damned day!!! (Liar! You know this promise or what ever is as good as the up and down going fever! You will never keep it, trust me, I know shit!)
Bring it on Tuesday, Wednesday and even Friday (Don’t forget Monday and something else!) Every day, from this day on is my day (note to writer, how many times can you get away with the word “day”?) I will start appreciating the here and now (Yeah, really! Like to see that) And then, if not, nobody have a cow! (We already did! It’s there in the backyard!)
“A respite, on a sunny Sunday day, cannot lead anyone, astray” Gun Roswell
Small Seats for Sundays
Under a decorated window, a fire engine red coloured setup lies Completely surrounded by flower pots, with various sorts, all of them bright The comfortable and all so cozy extension of the house painted all white Inviting all, friend, neighbour and even stranger, to sit, just, for a bit As on this sunny day of a Sunday, after walking, you really needed, a respite
Two soft looking seats, awaited, in the bar, so modern and totally sleek It did not take too long, for us tired and thirsty tourists, to sink into them deep Not wanting to move a muscle, only trying to avoid all that hustle and bustle Even a wave of the hand seemed a chore, but not wanting to be a total bore A whistle to the server and soon enough, to sets of drinks were brought to this respite So totally cool and calm, but mostly, for us, the perfect and best fit
The beckoning, of the bluest of the Mediterranean seas, on this sunny day Lead the weary tourist, now looking for that perfect respite towards the bay Where the perfectly made table and two chairs awaited to be seated on The odours, the smells, of lunch time menus, so inviting and totally strong It would have been utterly disrespectful and yes, completely wrong To steer somewhere else and not to take advantage of this risen opportunity Where taking a load off your feet, combined, with something great, to eat
“There is a black cat in the street just sitting there, should I be scared?” Gun Roswell
Black cat sitting on the street corner
There once was a black cat Whom neatly on the street corner sat Never moving, never budging Even if there would be a large truck in Coming around the bend He would just sit there and this time spend On nothing and everything As the world would turn around him
Why you may ask?
Well you see, this is his one job The only one suited on this small blue globe As he is the very watcher of us all The one black cat, sitting quite tall And that is why there is no fear for us at all As he keeps an eye on us, that we will not fall