The end of summer

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“Sadly, it has come to this, as it is the end of summer, even if it might have been somewhat of a bummer this year” Gun Roswell

The end of summer

The heatwave, which was cursed in so many ways, has now finally ended, after a long time having spent on this land of those who either it loved or hated. And thus leaving room, for the cold and rain, which in some ways, will wash away the left over pain. 

After a long time of praying, for some kind of relief from the heat, it looks like we have jumped right from that state to a monsoon like plane. The pouring of the rain keeps on going day after day, but if it is good for the hay, then maybe it’s good for the rest of us.

Being totally sad but also glad in a way, as even if the summer has come and gone, and not much of it was really enjoyed as there was really no way in getting around, still, mourning is not on the agenda, not today at least, as that fears beast of thunder, keeps on rumbling.

There will be another one, most likely next year, summer that is. And so, for now, whatever weather comes along next, the snow even, guess I won’t be doing too much of complaining? Not making any promises though as it might be a fall slow and complaining, well that is me, really!

Sailing along the shore

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“Spot the boat on the side of the road” Gun Roswell

Sailing along the shore

Just to be on the safest of sides, on this, blue ocean oh so wide
And as is the pride in addition to the set of skills still lacking quite
The best bet for today’s magnificent ride, was not to totally hide
Rather to stay securely and solemnly on the long, long coastline

So, taking this adventure with just a slight hint of enthusiasm in the air
At least before getting the hang of all this sailing stuff without despair
As it really is a tough job, controlling all of this fine burnt small size boat
So not to make too much of a hassle of it al and then left on the strand to croak

But today, is the first trial of running a ship of my own, being the captain bold
And following the given rules and regulations, and doing the things as told
Because since day one after seeing this fine vessel ready and able, I was sold
And so becoming the proud owner and the skipper, well, guess it was foretold

So, setting sail, across the seashores, will be today’s finest chore
And that despite the short distance will still not be any kind of bore

Ghost ships in the blue waters

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“They can only be seen, when the fog gets too thick on the highest of seas, the ghost ships of blue that is” Gun Roswell

Ghost ships in the blue waters

They can only be visible, when the seas are filled with the coolest of those solemn hues, the blue fog surrounding the waters and when the visibility is just a few metres. It is then when the ships appear, to their special spots all over the waters edge. In the colour of blue they are shrouded, and appearing there without any passengers allowed on board them. They are the ghost of the past and the future. Not of us, but only themselves, those many ships which had sunken without any kind of trace off of the face of the world and into the deep abyss hurled. This is not to scare anyone with their presence, only acting as a reminder of the dangers, of putting too much trust in clear blue skies and calm waters, and not taking enough precautions. For the sea is not a safe place for the unprepared, by two always remember to make safety first. But if you happen to spot those blue coloured ghostly vessels, well, better err on the side of caution and stay out of the water, at least, for that day.

Perspective

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“The perspective of things? Well, it kind of all depends on how you perceive them does it not?” Gun Roswell

Perspective 

The hustle and bustle of the busy street, over crowded with vehicles and people on their rapidly moving feet. Why do I even bother to come here at all, when I simply wish I could time stall and spend my days in quiet and peace, alone some please else like sailing on the seven seas. Alas, I am stuck in this city of eternity, biding my time to get out of here. So why oh why oh might deities, can’t you hear and answer my desperate prayers.

Still, I know things are fine for me here, in the midst of the sea of people, none the worse but not better either. It’s not that I am totally suffering from anything really. It’s just the mind of me, playing those tricks you see, I am a person who does not really want company. And all the crowds out in the streets over there, scare me half to death if out venture dare. Why you may ask? Well, I cannot explain, but if I too long out here remain, I get all panicky and afraid so guess it just is what it is.

So, leave me to my dreams for now, the perfect vision of the solemn waves and beyond, sailing on my small boat alone, towards a future unset and without too many souls tagging along. Yep, guess that is me and my perspective of life, a quiet place without sound or strife and simple days with lots of smiles.

Surviving Mondays

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“Oh Monday, you are so totally cruel and always come uninvited into my life, what can i do to keep you at bay?“ Gun Roswell

Surviving Mondays

The Monday morning had once again arrived
I know it because I can totally smell its pride
Raising the ugly head I now know far to well
And then, there is that, totally fowl smell

You to tempt me to kick your non too rounded arse
As this day, always turns into some odd kind of farce
But if I did not already have this headache
From merely thinking about you to arrive and me break

You always make me numb, avoid of all the fun
Lashing out to me, with something or another
As if this beginning of the week would not already be a struggle
The weekend gone and Friday nowhere in sight, bummer!

But, there is one thing, that could help me pull through
That one single and totally lovely and tasting full brew
The darkest of liquids and the greatest of sustenance 
Ever devised by mankind, which has no pretence

It’s simply, well, just great
So go ahead, take a break
For this cup of stuff is no fake
Go, enjoy, your coffee, now!

Seated in a cafe on a Sunday

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“A small cafe in Paris just around the corner hidden away from prying eyes“
Gun Roswell

Seated in a cafe on a Sunday

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

Cat of cats

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“Cat is a cat is a cat, and there can be no doubt about that” Gun Roswell

Cat of cats

The cat on the pavement proudly sat, like the king of the hill, or the guard of the heap, but never the place to sleep, only a place of worship.

It was the very spot that this specific cat always came to watch them all, right on the dot at the turning of the clock it was there present, like a heavens sent

The place totally sacred for the cat kind, there was no denying, it was either by the them all to be worshipped or then even possessed

Most likely the latter, as this cat of cats was treated as such, the other neighbourhood cats bringing treats and other stuff for it to feast upon

Whatever the case might have been, I doubt it is for the lowly hoomans to be seen as the cats life their own lives separate from anyones

But observing this cat of cats keeping its court for the few hours before taking its cue and leaving the same designated spot it had stayed on

Not to be seen or heard of until such time again the very next day, right on the dot when the cat of cats once again emerged from the shadows to regain its spot again

A Dreamers Dream Sunday

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“When dreaming, always dream big, unless, you have small dreams” Gun Roswell

A Dreamers Dream Sunday

The coolest of blues hit me, with the blues As I sat in the seat, carefully chosen, by the coolest seas Watching the skies, expanding in my very eyes And then, what the hell do I spy? An aeroplane, in mid air, in flight Yeah, right!

It was supposed to be my special dream From this dreaded place, for once at least to flee But now, here I sit and watch, as others, obviously, have taken my spot On that flying machine, up there, for all to see And, where am I? Well, down here, on this pretended life of a scene

But as I sit here, in my own fear And the air vehicle, slowly into the skies disappear I start to deep into my own thoughts sink, maybe even think That this place, where I seem to always so long stay Maybe, it’s not so bad, even if I am feeling sad It’s an OK one, sometimes even fun So, maybe, this is the dream after all I just have to adjust and then, dream small!

The blackest cat

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“The black cat did not cross the road, just because it did not want to be a cliche” Gun Roswell

The blackest cat

Intimidating they tried to be, for you see, that was the reputation to upkeep
Sullen and hardcore, a fighter sworn to be to the bitter end you see
As this was the often painted totally cliched image of the black cats heritage
But what if they did not want to live up to said sad and bad reputation at all
What if the only thing in the whole wide world for them was to play with a red ball
Then after the whole day spent, in fun never to relent, they would get
A bowl of milk and some tuna, then meow at the dark night in the light of the Luna
And after a while of having spent some time doing the things they loved
Curling up in a black ball of fur, and all cliches out the open window hurl
Sleeping soundly with a loud purr, next to their best Hooman boy or girl
As this black cat never wanted to be someone bad or the unspoken omen
Only a loved and treasured member of their adoptive family not the offender
And certainly never crossing a road, just because the tale so long ago told

Floating Flowers

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“Flowers floating by, always makes me smile, even when in the water myself” Gun Roswell

Floating Flowers

The pond filled with water to the very hilt of it. It was that season, the season of the monsoons, at least, what you could consider such a force of nature in the place, where water usually only in the pipes and oceans remained. Alas, with a full blast, the skies opened up and started pouring, the noises loud and roaring and then filled all the buckets and puddles and containers imaginary, with all that water.

But that was yesterday. Today, the sun is shining and most of the weather is now behind me and when I looked at the large size pond in front of me, which only the day before was a cracked and broken wasteland, is now filled to the very hilt with life giving water. And then, those pretty things appeared, out of nowhere much, but as such, they are now floating gently on the surface, lulling on the surface like they had done so always. 

As the small animals and other critters join in the pond, drinking, playing even swimming about with the sun, they all make a pretty picture of nature so lush and green, where only frequently, lifeless and barren seemed.