Three times, standing tall

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“Good things, always come, in threes, at least, the three tall standing windmills” Gun Roswell

#greece #rhodes #mandrakiharbour #windmills #seaside #travel

Three times, standing tall

“There is nothing magical to the number of three”
Some one supposedly wise, once told me
But, here is the thing you see, where I so totally, disagree

For a fact, I myself, do know this one simple rule
That good things, or even nice once, come in three for sure
Whether it be, a special on chocolate bars at the store that rule

Or a good series of books and even, the holiday time in weeks
Three, is totally the number that you want to seek
And if for that advice, you want to call me a total geek

Then, so be it, because, well, I simply love, the perfect number three
Maybe, you will too, if you just, take a chance and let yourself it feel
The enlightenment, which this then follows, well, may or may not set you free

But what ever you believe, hear, see, or even do
You so have the power, to do the do and choose
The perfectly rounded and open hearted glue

Yeah, you guessed it, it is so, the number of them all
The belle of the proverbial and even true ball
Number of three, it has the world and even more!

Under cover, under the parasol, under the sun

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“Hiding, my face and my self, from the bright sun, under the sheltering parasol“ Gun Roswell

Under cover, under the parasol, under the sun

From the deepest recesses, of this, these days virtual travellers own mind
Thinking of, all of the warm summers passed, and always with a big smile
When lying, on the sandy beach, everything off, completely, out of reach
Only thinking of, what and then when would be the time for the next eat
Alas, not everything around and under this scorching sun is a total slack
As swimming, walking, writing and reading, is part of each days list of tasks
But the one thing, even enough sun block can win, is the one simple fact
That too much sun, can give a dweller out and about each day an attach
Of the said sun and that cannot be too much fun, so best bet to do to avoid
The trauma causing the traveller to get annoyed, is to stay, under the parasol
Greatly protecting any harmful rays of the on top hovering bright ball, the sol
Besides, there are lots of things to do there, without the need to squint the eyes
Board games, books, and maybe, even the odd iPad to track, some of the lives
Left behind in the homeland, as the traveller, is on a holiday, for the duration
And, if and when asked, they would simply answer without any kind of hesitation
“I have earned this leave, and will stay here, until I totally need to leave!”

Alien vistas, revisited (at least, in my mind)

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“When travelling, in your mind, why not travel as far as possible, to the unknown places of the alien vistas?” Gun Roswell

Alien vistas, revisited (at least, in my mind)

Once again, I am slowly, but surely, falling into, a deep, deep slumber
And it is really not because, I am tired and want to go to sleep either
Rather doing my thing, and once again travelling, within my minds frame
Only this time, rather than taking the trip down, the good ol’ memory lane
I will spread my tall wings, figuratively of course, and then something, new trying
While letting the imagination fly, towards the very blue skies, and then visiting
Unknown places, out there, in the stratosphere, on the well known space trail
In the great and wide unknown, where you can find, if you really hard try, without fail
Alien vistas, with completely colourful places, totally opposite of our own world
The oceans and skies, painted in fire engine red, the beaches laid with soft dark silk
Instead of the usual sand we get here, mostly nice, but getting everywhere, so quick

No crowds to be found anywhere, which truthfully today, is pretty similar here as well
The cafes serving beverages and food totally out of this world, luckily, the coffee smell
Is also there as a familiar tell, so maybe, these aren’t as different from us after all
But when you run into a few locals there, on the open streets, the small and the tall
Beings occupying this specific place, with four arms and legs and three eyes round
Are a dead giveaway, we’re definitely not visiting Kansas on Earth, this time around
Not wanting to give too much away, as each and everyone should visit themselves
A place so alien and indescribable, yet fantastic, that only your own imagination can tell
When you dwell, inside those imaginable worlds, where your mind will be hurled
Once you let it relax for a moment, and go beyond the known realm with a turn
Then maybe you too, will have some, out of this wold and odd tales to tell
Having your own “fake” memories in your mind, even if no one is buying what you sell

Under the palm tree, at the pond, resting

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“There is nothing to it, just sit, and then, try to relax in the calming breeze, of the eternal trees“ Gun Roswell

Under the palm tree, at the pond, resting

A busy day, week or even a year, behind
The brain, trying something for you, to remind
Maybe, taking a break, would be, totally fine
As the going on beside the hard grind
Has caused never to rest and relax time to find

I know it is totally strange and unusual
To shut down that busy brain, going on as usual
But if you try, really, really hard the eternal perusal
And listen to the nothingness of sounds to lull
Into a deep state of emptiness, even a tad dull

Never mind, if the drool and the snoring
Come first when the deep rest into the boring
Finally hits and then after the night in the morning
You can start yourself utterly enjoying
This, perfect place of completely nothing

After all, even the brightest and finest minds
Needs to sometimes, take the time to rewind
Otherwise some overflow and boiling points
Will enter the normally perfect vision and joints
And then what follows is not a pretty picture at all

So, take this time off, without a single scoff
Tell yourself, you have deserved this space off
From everyone and everything knocking the doors
Then shut your eyes, and try to simple adore
The pretty views, under the palm trees by the pond

Seats for Sundays

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“A respite, on a sunny Sunday day, cannot lead anyone, astray” Gun Roswell

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

A moped ride in the world wide

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“A red bike, on the street side… just hop on, and take a ride! “ Gun Roswell

A moped ride in the world wide

The red, and totally busted ride
Was waiting, by the very side
I knew from before, and I might
Just have out, a very loud sigh
Because no way, was this fine
Taking out, this archaic bike!

But, approaching the land
Where the old bike would usually stand
By an old, and very solid oak door
It was then, I noticed, something quite odd
As if just taken out of a store
It stood there, with so much flare
All over, it was spicked and spanned
Even, the silvery and shiny handles can
Be more gorgeous than
As before the metal, no longer rusted
But everything shiny and dusted
The gas tank filled with go juice
There really was nothing to loose
With this fine ride, of the day
Only one thing, still remained
Putting on, the helmet and boots
The leathery outfit, also to choose
Then hopping on this, very fine steed
And out into the busy streets, it to lead

As I am now riding down the roads
Remembering something, from before
“There really is no better way”, was I earlier told
By someone, certain and so bold
And I am finally agreeing to it now, with a huge, big smile
When I am taking this ride, to the world open wide

The memory of the beach

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“The beach, of the summer long ago, still fresh, in my memory“ Gun Roswell

The memory of the beach

It was so long ago, so I have to think about it, really, really slow
The memory though, still fresh in my mind, as if permanently there, intertwined
It was such a fulfilling place, the one, where the summers were laid
In perfect harmony with time itself, without running around, like a slave
The beaches sandy and soft, the water the calmest and blue
The sun always shining, but most importantly, no one was ever whining
Of this place, being anything, but perfect as on that beach they played
Sports, of all sorts, swimming until your arms would tire out
And when it was time for a break, some sustenance and drinks, someone would shout
“Come one to the table! The food is getting cold! Hurry up!”
All of us, sprinted out and ran, like the fire was there under our cans
Spending the days on end, on that sandy and sunny beach
Until it was that time of the day, when the sun could no longer reach
Only displaying a magnificent setting, as its rays in various colours kept on slaying
The moonrise only a match, with the stars hitting the skies above
Then at bedtime, dreaming of yet another day on that perfect seaside
Yes, those where the days, where we all so had our eyes so totally wide
Now, I can only reminisce, about the days gone by, but, with a soft smile

Doors, Entryways and Gates

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“Remember, to check behind each and every door, open and even closed, then only, will you find, that which, you seek“ Gun Roswell

Doors, Entryways and Gates

The darkened wooden door, most likely, had something special in store
Shut close, tightly, even, if the red car up front, was in the sunlight gleaming brightly
The short clotheslines, filled with every day garments, of lived lives
But, when trying the handle gently, there was no granted, entry
All the secrets, of those dwellers inside, continued to remain, in the hide
The bright cream coloured house, with an off white entryway 
Planted pots evenly placed alongside, the narrow and tall stairway
Almost scenic in view, alas the entrance to the house, was reserved only, for a few
Alas, there was no sign, no written words, nothing, even slightly suggesting
That the odd visitors, were welcomed, to this, fine local home
The blue painted gate, lead the weary traveller, to speculate
Was there something there, to be seen, here, at the gate and in between
The yard totally sparse, and the house of the gate was protecting
Lacking any kind of locks, soon enough, the traveller, inside did trot
Then, quickly crossing the yard, in just a few steps smart
Knocking, on the door, with anticipation, but eyes headed, towards the floor
Soon enough, the squeaky sounds indicating the opening
A small and timid crack only, but still, quite inviting
The traveller softly and slowly stepping, to the darkened inside
After all, at this point, turning back, was not an option
And from now on, the best bet, really is, to just keep going, on

The Cool Cat

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“The cool black cat, on the side of the street sat, and no, there was no hat involved” Gun Roswell

The Cool Cat

A blackest of cats, on the busy street corner, calmly sat
He had nothing better to do, but on his furry ass sit and chew
The yellow eyes, staring, glaring, all the passersby, spied
It looked so scary, that some of them even started to cry
Luring the cat into some kind of a food reduced trap
Wasn’t an option, because this animal was no ordinary concoction
Of fur and feline DNA, such you might find eating it’s pray
Like a mouse or other type of pest, making the meal a fest
But no, this was a spy, sent from another place so high
It would take a spaceship just to reach there, in the stratosphere
The alien cat, still in disguise, kept on spying
The unsuspecting hooman race, sitting there, on his place
Watching, taking notes, of those poor people dragging their totes
And also making sure, they would stay put without allure
To venture out there, into the great wild space without fear
At least, not without some fish and catnip as a gift
If ever they would the alien cats home planet reach!

On set, shooting the ultimate selfie

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“Everyone! Quiet on the set! Ready, lights, sound, camera and… action! “ Gun Roswell

On set, shooting the ultimate selfie

All was quiet, the crew and actors taking their places
The lights were set, the camera was ready for recording all them faces
As the director had ordered, before they closed the doors
The only sound, the metallic clang that of a clapperboard
It was that time, for the shoot, the shoot of some serious selfie photos
As, in this modern day and age, no resume is complete without those

The proverbial needled dropped, on to the quiet floor
As the camera clicked, making the shutter stall
But only for a moment, as the dramatic duck faces image was captured
The end result appearing, on to the monitor for screening

All eyes on the very spot, where the end result blocked
A collective breath holding for a moment, waiting seemingly torment
The pixels of the very image filling the once black screen with colours
Some softly commenting, its a good thing there are no odours

Finally, the end product is complete for all to see
There eyes, the nose, the hair, nothing out of place if feared
A perfect shot for the present and the prosperity
Once some minor adjustments made with some filter trickery
Nothing more to do, except save, upload, post and send
And the world wide web, most likely will remain the same