“It’s covered with snow.” Gun Roswell
Made out of snow
In one windy blow
The air cool and misty
Shiny white and crispy
Nature pearled
And transformed
Into winter world
White Winter World
Blue is the water in the pool
“After lunch time, it was time to enjoy the warmth of the sun and cool off in the pool.” Gun Roswell
Swimming
All thoughts dimming
Relaxing
Nothing perplexing
Mind
Finally at rest
Unwind
Is the best
Turquoise
Filling the view
Disguise
All feelings of blue
Statuesque
“It’s all in the perspective of things, right?” Gun Roswell
Catching the winds of spring
Soaring high up, my song to sing
I am a pretty bird in flight
And I may not always choose right
But I am sure this direction
Is the one I need for completion
Of my getting up so high
Even so far as the crows fly
Despite being a miniature beaked thing
There is no rule saying I cannot sing
And thusly, I am up here
In the open wide stratosphere
Higher than any other bird ever
In your face, for being clever!
Sometimes, it rains
“Not all days are filled with sunshine, most are not” Gun Roswell
When it rains, it possibly pours
How to find a shelter outdoors?
Behold, a wonderful escape
In a shape of a cafe
By the beautiful Esplanade
Soon, sitting, coffee enjoying
Carefully watching
Life and passersby flowing
And the sunshine washing
The rainy clouds away
Sun in the skies?
“It’s supposed to be very short.” Gun Roswell
High contrast
Today’s forecast
Blue skies
And sunshine
Sunshine on a rainy day?
“Sometimes, the sun shines, no matter the time of year it just might be.” Gun Roswell
If you expected sunshine,
Sitting on a terrace
With a cool glass of wine
And feeling, just fine
Then,
I hate to disappoint
Dearie,
But it seems,
The odds
Are heavily
Against you
The weather gods
Decided their jobs
Was to make you sob
Like the true sociopaths
Bringing on their wrath
Even if you did not need a bath
But soaking wet
Soon you’ll be
If you think
The game is set
Maybe
It is time to flee
Or then
Just forget,
The bummer
After all
It is not even summer
And just
Another day
In Paradise?
Monochrome
“It’s the good ole times, all in black and white or more like, monochrome greys?” Gun Roswell
Looking at the world through monochromatic eyes
Eyes wide without any shade or disguise
Disguise, which is so easy to cover
Cover up all the faults
Faults only visible in true colours
Colours so easily distorted Distorted like the inevitable truth
Truth which cannot be hidden Hidden in the shades and shadows
Shadows only seen in the darkness
Darkness hiding in the black Black and white turning to grey
Grey, which is the true colour Colour without any kind of colour
Colour only described as monochrome
Bright light in the skies
“Sometimes the sun shines into the womp rats nest” Star Wars
Walk towards the light
The brightest white light
This is your rite
And you holiday given right
Finally enjoy some sunshine!
The Blues?
“Sometimes, even the shadow of oneself is blue.” Gun Roswell
Maybe I am blue
Because of winter
Quite the opposite
Of pure white
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.
Rantings Of A Third Kind 