travel, traveling, travel blog
“From the highest mountain top, shouting out loud, until I drop” Gun Roswell
On the top
Climbing as high as I possible can
But of climbing, I am not really a fan
As I start to ascend, I know I am making a new trend
making it to the utmost top, no way I may this flop
Climbing, climbing, climbing until I drop
Nothing, no nothing, can make me stop
I am going to make it, up there, where the clouds lay
And when I reach the tallest top, I am there to stay
“Follow the light!?” Gun Roswell
Lit Up
Follow me out of the darkness
Through, this, narrow passage
I cannot guarantee you the future
This, solution, is only a suture
But, if you dare to take this leap
It won’t cost much but it’s actually very cheap
A small step, the first on of many
And, after a while, you’ll notice the changes
The darkness fading, as will all the blaming
Self doubt, sadness and hating
Before you know it, you’ll be surrounded
By all the light and colours you could imagine
As a reward, for discarding all that doubting
“Oh I’ll twist it right, in there!” Gun Roswell
Metallic Twist
In a twist of metal, she was born
In the early hours, before sunrise, at dawn
She stretched extremities with a yawn
And then realized, in full length, she was not small
Now, in the middle of the room on her pedestal
She stands there, people gawking, like she was an angel
But she does not mind, she gets off on the stares
Even with an expressionless face, internally, she glares
For she, is no angel, nor is a mere mortal
Her goal to stir trouble, ever since arriving through that portal
The poor artist in creation, was never the wiser poor soul
Of what evil things he let loose, twisting that metallic roll
She is no hurry, watching, waiting, for that special moment
When everyone is under her spell, and then only starts the torment
The eternal yearning, the struggle within, of wanting, never having
That is her agenda, to raise hope, but never giving
“It’s so crowded, don’t you think?” Gun Roswell
The City
The city never sleeps, or so, it seems
But, if you look a little closer, you may spot a “dozer”
Deeply napping, in the middle of all the happening
But, nobody seems to notice, is it because of choice?
So many sounds and voices surrounding
Looking around, there is no place for grounding
Bright colours or grey, it’s all the same
Everyone gets by, unnoticed, without fame
So many people, so many buildings
The city, covered by an invisible gilding
“All is well” they say, even if someone, is in dismay
And the napper keeps on napping, alive or dead
No one has the time or effort to care
“Spring is going to spring” Gun Roswell
Spring in Barcelona
It’s that time of the year
When life is kicking to full gear
The signs are clearly out there
Just venture outside without fear
The flowers, birds and bees
Come out from their hiding to seek
The freshness of new life in leap
Open your own eyes to see
Time for travels to a country foreign
Hoping some sights to be scoring
Nothing in this place is boring
Even the buildings tell a story
Look up and down, and all around
Plenty of things and people to be found
Nature at is best, even the ground
Green grasses, leaves and flowers make a sound
Spring at home or over seas
Nothing better on the wish list indeed
Glad to shed the clothes of winter
And tell all, spring is finally in here
“Sunset, sea and horses” Gun Roswell
Sunset Ride
A slow ride, on the soft sand
When the sun, is about to descend
Nothing but silence, surrounding
The nature clear and grounding
My stead, moving along
It’s stride, quite strong
Just me, by myself, alone
On this nightly journey, so long
To sun has finally set
And into the nightly sky, the moon let
It’s thin light still so bright
On this journey it just might
Stay all of the night
“Illuminating the path in the darkness, lights of vary” Gun Roswell
Streetlights
When the darkness descends
Do not worry, you don’t have to spend
Your time in total blackness
Just wait a short moment
And try to hold strong
Now, look up!
There, in the far distance!
Now, you see!
The many lights are turning on
The nightly streets, filled with life and laughter
The place is none the mad place
You were afraid to enter
But aren’t you glad, you went there
“A private dance? Surely not!” Gun Roswell
The Dancer
Dressed in bright red, with shining shoes to match
The music loud, the rhythm up beat, onto the dance floor, she’ll latch
The the sound waves catching her body, tapping her toes
She is in the zone now, nothing, down her ever slows
Dancing, prancing, even singing, sometimes, the audiences romancing
She is the star of her own show, fully emerged in her own flow
Living in her own little world, where only her voice can be heard
And then, the music stops, the dancer, in her steps flop
Looking around, the empty floor only her surrounds
Settling back, into reality, but only until, she hears the music, and then, she is back in her fantasy
“The pretty face in the crowd, is bound, to draw some attention” Gun Roswell
The Onlooker
“Are you looking at me? Are you? Really looking?”
“Why else would I be here, gawking, like you were something, like really good to eat?”
“Then take a damned picture, it might last longer!”
“No, I am just happy to stand here, in the moment, sorry, if you feel it’s like tornment.”
“Oh, do you really like me or are you a little nutter?”
“Maybe both, maybe neither, but I am getting a smile here.”
As the duo continued their chatter, getting more familiar with each other by the minute, there is no telling, where to spin this tale, going strong, even without a pilot
The conversation, between the watcher and the object
When one of them, has the other one, really in check
Staring, gawking, looking taunting, maybe even a hint, of admiration
Maybe, just maybe, at some point, leading to temptation
“Nothing calms you down, like the sound of water, unless, it’s a tsunami!” Gun Roswell
Waterfalls
The sunlight reflected from the tiny pebbles falling downward
Spiralling gently, forming a giant puddle, soon the land conquered
The tiny droplets drumming against any surface found
Making a smooth, yet very loud and jazzy like sound
Bursting vapour into the warm midday air
The passersby getting their fair share
The spread of the refreshing transparent liquid
Which is good for washing up and even to drink it
And when the inspiration strikes
To rip all the clothes of and naked into the water run wild
Never mind, no one will be unkind
As the hot weather strikes, you will have plenty of others joining the ride
Rantings Of A Third Kind 