It’s just Me and My Shadow?

“Just remember if we get caught, you’re deaf and I don’t speak English”


It was nineteen eighty-five
When I hitched a ride
Ever since that time
We have been tied
Like sugar and spice
Abbott and Costello
And what have you
I am still quite amazed
And feeling totally graced
That someone would stare at my face
For forty plus odd years straight

So thanks for all this time, sweetheart
Lets try to make it to the next part
And add another thirty to the cart
After all the most important thing
Which makes you want to sing
It’s good to have that one person
Who will support you without a reason

No matter how serious
Or delirious
Life gets
I will bet
You will still be the one
Who I can rely on
To go absolutely
And completely
Bonkers with
Ain’t that a hit!

Wishing a Happy Anniversary to Us both!!!

Happy Birthday to the Bard!!!

“I am not getting older, just bolder and wiser, (I hope)” Gun Roswell

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Can’t stand the flashes
Oh paparazzi be cursed
Because,
I am forced
To wear these dark glasses
Before,
My fifteen minutes of fame
Passes

Trying to act casual
Trying to act cool
After all,
There is nothing unusual
And nothing, like a fool
Than, in the middle of traffic
Stopping midway
For a quick snap it
After all
This is what all
Self conscious hip people
Do these days!
So snap, snap, snap away
A selfie in progress

Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Sailor, and guess, a Writer

Looking into
A writers mind
You may phew
On what you find

Look in,
Carefully

Surprisingly
Lurking
Emerging

A

Tinker, Tailor,
Soldier, Sailor,
Rich Man, Poor Man,
Beggar Man, Thief

Peeping Tom, Stalker
Pervert, Prude 
Sister, Brother
Loud Mouth, Mute

A

Antagonist
Protagonist
Killer, Saviour
Bad behaviour?

Winner, Looser
Coward, Hero
Or simply a Zero?

Storyteller, Liar
Truth teller, Denier

A questionable character?
Or just a clever Actor?
Psychopath,
Or, on a Path?

Writer, Politician, or a Crook?
Did I get you hooked?

Writing is sometimes hard

“Today too I do write” Gun Roswell

Ithought I was able

To tell any fable

But seems I was wrong

But I have to stay strong


It may not be a block 

Just that I have so much in stock

Writing every single day

Without any time for play


But if I stop even for a moment

I will continue myself to torment

Write now or never do so again

Is how I my days spend


I am not giving myself slack

Due to so many years running amok

Not writing when the time was there

So now I have none to spare


But I need some rest too

Recharge my batteries just like you

But I am so afraid to stop

What if I really run out of luck


Writing is the thing I love

My outlet when life stops being fun

It seems a double edged sward

And I am still waiting for my award


So enough of this babbling

I will rest and later try dabbling

In some other type of story

Just hoping for a moment of this not to worry

Gloves in Red

“It’s a vibrant colour for sure.” Gun Roswell


“This is when the gloves come off!” She stated with a huff and puff.

Throwing down the protective shielding onto the ground, she was about to defy all beliefs of what would happen when exposing yourself to the elements.

It was that time of the year, when the cold season had taken over. There was no hiding from the white powdery substance covering most of the northern world. The only thing to do to survive was to put as much woven garments on top of the skin as possible. The degrees sinking down below zero in the tens, sometimes even hundreds, this season lasted for a length of six moons.

But those damn mittens! How they irritated her, especially today. They were always in the way. Grabbing things was not easy, not to mention holding a shovel.

She looked at the discarded gloves laying on the ground. Red against the whitest of snow. Pretty were they, she thought and kept staring at them, while her fingers were getting numb. Finally, as beckoning her, she scooped the offending mittens from the pile of snow, pulled them on and admired the colour and the feel of them.

Once again, she was happy in her gorgeous red mittens.

A tale of Winter?

“Winter, is already here.” Gun Roswell

When stepping outside
Much to surprise
A freezing wind
Is greeting your skin
Rubbing your eyes
Hoping, only lies
But, waking to reality
Accepting the actuality
A cover of white
May be a delight
After the lush of green
You have seen
All summer long
Trying to stay strong
It’s here to stay
Pushing away
The slowly creeping
Sinking feeling
Don’t get bitter
It’s only winter

I write, therefore I am?

“Either write something worth reading or do something worth writing” Benjamin Franklin


I don’t remember a time when I wasn’t writing.

I did my first “screenplay” at the age of five with crayons and forced my whole family to watch the Christmas play I wrote, produced an ven acted in too! Later in my teens, I started writing fan fiction for my favourite shows on television, way before the internet, fan fiction as such and even personal computers were invented. I loved the weekly challenges for writing in school and of course, I was a book junkie too.

Writing for me has been sporadic at best and I mostly consider myself a closet writer. I am in the closet, out of the closet, back in and now finally out again, publishing on the internet as much and as often as humanly possible 😉

I am also a poet, and did not know it: True in many ways, as I write from anything and everything. My inspiration can be a phrase I heard on the lift ride or something from the morning radio. Mainly, these days, I get inspired from the pictures I take.

For me, personally, writing is an creative outlet for the mundane working day. If I do not write, I am be a very, very, very cranky person ;P

My motto is: A poem a day, keeps the mental doctor away!
The second motto is: Write more, complain less!

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Something, something, wild side?

“I have no idea?” Gun Roswell 

I have no new ideas 

My mind is completely blank

Writing this un-rhyming poem

Is the only thing of I could think

Something, something…

I guess is better than

Nothing?

But I do what I can

(Do I really?)

Scribbling on my smart phone

Trying to create the perfect poem

And simply realising I am just repeating

The one missing thing all over again

So I am stopping

Right here, right now

Before my brain is popping out

I will try to take a break

From being a writer fake?

10 years of Blog Posting already!?!

10 years of Blog Posting already!

Where did the time go?
Somewhere, as it really wasn’t taking things slow!
Alas, here we are, ten years later, mostly not a hater ;P
Blog, blog, blogging away, like this is the place in which to stay!

Well, here’s to ten more!
As guess, it’s not such a huge chore after all!!!

Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Sailor and a Writer

“I’m a writer and, therefore, automatically a suspicious character” Sir Alfred Hitchcock

Looking into
A writers mind
You may phew
On what you find

Look in,
Carefully

Surprisingly
Lurking
Emerging

A

Tinker, Tailor,
Soldier, Sailor,
Rich Man, Poor Man,
Beggar Man, Thief

Peeping Tom, Stalker
Pervert, Prude 
Sister, Brother
Loud Mouth, Mute

A

Antagonist
Protagonist
Killer, Saviour
Bad behaviour?

Winner, Looser
Coward, Hero
Or simply a Zero?

Storyteller, Liar
Truth teller, Denier

A questionable character?
Or just a clever Actor?
Psychopath,
Or, on a Path?

Writer, Politician, or a Crook?
Did I get you hooked?