Caturday Haiku
Cat with various stripes smiles
Patrolling its territory large, no one denies
Afterward, nap time awaits winner
And then, a delicious dinner, with fish
Caturday Haiku
Category Archives: Travel
travel, traveling, travel blog
A view towards the seashore
“Standing at the end of a very long pier, looking at the land where all them houses stand, yep, far too many of them there be and then, I flee to the sea!“ Gun Roswell
A view towards the seashore
When out there, to the great open sea, on a small vessel I flee, feeling totally free, nothing but the calming wind and the warming sun surrounding me. No constricting walls or even windows there to protect, but this does not have any kind of an affect as I am still well protected by these elements of nature out here. And, even if there is nothing visible or tangible there to see, I know I am quite safe, lulled to the very sensation by these gentle waves. And the longer I here stay, I don’t feel the need to get back to the shore, as looking at all them houses standing there, side by side, crowded, I already start feeling the bore. So, now that I have gotten my taste of this place, where the wide open blue has replaced, the need to stay in a small cocoon of a case, I don’t think I will go back again, rather my life on the road made of liquid spend. Checking out all the new vistas, to get rid of the restlessness inside, as I travel with my small ship on this large ocean quite wide.
Under the sun, in cover, under the parasol
There is just something so fun, laying, under the bright sun, but only, if I have my parasol, where I lay down without being too dull!” Gun Roswell
Under the sun, in cover, under the parasol
The sun is shining, so brightly, against the blue of the sky
Nothing or no other experience in life, makes me really, smile
As does this meteorological phenomena do, to little ol’ moi
When I have made the trek to the beach, for the day encore en foi
But this is not just about throwing some French around
But rather, to enjoy a day, resting, even if lying, on the ground
A day at the beach, in theory at least, is a plan totally sound
But if the heat gets a tad too much to resist, and groaning out loud
Becomes the permanently made, teeth grinding non-vowels
Then it is that time, when the parasol comes to play
Quickly setting up the plastic colourful monstrosity to full display
Never mind the outlook, it’s fine because I myself won’t look
At the contraption, now above my very large head, slightly shook
Because, I will be happy on this one day of summer no matter what
Even with all them flies and other types, I away have to swat
This one single day I have earned with much work and sweat
So I will be damned if the heat or what ever other problem might me let
Feel less of fun, or any other type of good feeling
As I lay here, watching the day, pass me by, leading
Towards the hopefully calm and setting sun for the evening
When I will leave this place, with a smile on my face
Until next year, when I get one day off and to the beach, once again trot
With my parasol naturally, so I can enjoy, the sun, fully!
A cat with a stare
“There be cats here!” Gun Roswell
Nonchalant
I don’t care If you sit there and stare I don’t so really care as my time has no spare I don’t Tory not care I know I got the special flare I don’t for a moment care For I am more important, than anyone else out there As I am a cat, a cat with a daring stare
Boats, and similar vessels can take you there, somewhere
“There is something about the open sea, when in a boat, out there in the open wide, even if it is a simple dingy of a vessel, it is fine, as it is so totally freeing simply letting the waves lull you, to some place far away…” Gun Roswell
Boats, and similar vessels can take you there, somewhere
The calm of the sea, the colour, the texture, the all, I wish I could just flee, in a boat, no matter the size or the contents, just as long as it moves, slow or fast, is fine as I can just get out there, to the open, wild waves, carrying me everywhere and anywhere, forgetting my past, even if that fact will only for a moment last, being one with the ocean of the world, to be gently hurled until it is time to come back and face the slack I may have caused while on the shore, as oh life, what a total bore, you can be, sometimes and the only good options seems to be, the wide open sea.
Tall against the blue skies, with a touch of red on the side
“The other one is taller than the smaller one, but they do support each other very well” Gun Roswell
Tall against the blue skies, with a touch of red on the side
The tall lighthouse was sticking out, from the bed rock from which it firmly sprouts. Ever so gorgeous and made from solid rock, seemingly, nothing it could stop, from reaching towards the blue open and wide skies, singing many a song of all that which is divine.
But, the truth was, that the tall one could not survive without, being tethered with its small side kick of a tiny wooden shack, painted in red, dangerously so, as even seemingly making it only in tow of the tall handsome structure, the smaller one was, the stronger one of the two, never swaying in the wind, even if it could never sing the beautiful notes to reach for the skies.
Window views, with imaginary scenery
“I don’t think I can ever get tired of the scenery outside my window” Gun Roswell
Window views, with imaginary scenery
The many lands, the foreign vistas, the great unknown and all the open possibilities
For the exploration, to what ever lies outside, these empty and dull suburban streets
Behind the frames of this view, ever changing, but still, mostly, the same remaining
Window with the most perfect view, at least in my mind, leaving me feeling, never, ever blue
As I sit at the sidelines, in my usual comfortable seat and think of the open wide
World, just at reach, at least, in my mind, out there, outside, I cannot help but smile
As I gently lull myself into a dream state lazy, and then travelling to all the places
Wherever my own imagination dares me to carry, smoothly, never in any kind of hurry
Having always the perfect amount of time, to explore, to see, to feel, to live in it all
Even if it is never, well really, quite real, it is still, a trip or sorts, out there
Never leaving the comfort of these walls of my sombre home, still, never really alone
Not at least, when visiting these, far away lands in my mind, for the perfect scenery to find
Splash off the wall in total colour
“One needs a hint of colour in the midst of all the grey, am I right?” Gun Roswell
Splash off the wall in total colour
The paint brushes swirling left and right, up and down, around and around
As the painter concentrated, with gusto, in the job with a wide upside frown
This case was a happy occasion, refurbishing old houses without hesitation
As the full and plush colours, quickly appeared, onto the dull canvas cleared
Painting, the minds image to a well loved and cared for housing project to reflect
After such a long time having been left in total and utter neglect now being resurrect
Completing the task in minimal time, and the end result turning up more than fine
The bright and bolds, done with what some might say, something of eye sores
As the could now easily be spotted from miles away and then some but never more bores
But hey, who ever said life or in addition, the outer walls, oh an old but new home
Should be, anything, but dull, and so, the artist doing their thing, went on completing
The paint job they had been commissioned to do with a touch of spring
Lunch time in the archipelago
“Island life, even in just the memories, it beats this dull city dwelling of a strife” Gun Roswell
Lunch time in the archipelago
Never hurried, simply slow, is the life spent on the island
Having a break when ever it suites, simply widely smiling
Even the time of lunch on the beach without any kind of timing
Is the way to go out here, in the middle of nowhere, in the archipelago
Where people abandoned their watches oh so long ago
As this is a place, time still stays, where no one has to hurry
And all the worldly troubles, were in the deep ditch buried
Life, as we know it, for at least the summer period is to be sent
On this very small island, so far away from it all, making no dents
In anything else, except maybe, in the cookie jar, but then again
You can always bake new ones, if you feel like it, or then just sit
All day long, as the sea shore, on this place, from heavens sent
The Rock, it is called, just for short
“The island life is the dream kind, bringing me a smile, each time, I see the pictures” Gun Roswell
The Rock, it is called, just for short
The harsh rock solid unforgiving ground, every which where can be found
On the small thatch of a land, which solemnly out there stands
In the middle of the sometimes blue and other times ruthless ocean
Where the rough weather and barren nature is part of the potion
Of that which is the dream life for a few adventurous dare devils
Living their lives out there where no one, but only a few seagulls
Land on the dreamy and soft sands of the beaches non existing
As hidden away is this exotic and praised paradise from prying eyes
Protecting those lonely dwellers dedicated to the strange but appealing life
On the island of some kind of fantasy with the good kind of strife
Rantings Of A Third Kind 