“Trees and leaves, the change of weather, the change of time, fall, august, has arrived” Gun Roswell
Mother Nature’s work of art
Colourful, simple and smart
Winter, Spring, Summer or Fall
Following the ancient protocol
Trees of Plenty
Fall in Suburbia
“The colours are chaining now, it’s most certainly the time for autumn!” Gun Roswell
Roaming around the Hood
Because the weather was really good
Clouds floating in the blue sky
Wishing if only I could fly
The sun warm on my skin
Melting the coldest of Finns
Colours burning bright
Ideas taking flight
Snap, click, snap, click
Hoping to score some great pics
So here they are
I didn’t walk too far
But still got a great bunch
In a time it takes to have lunch
Autumn Nature
“The air is crisp, the nature going aslumber, it’s fall, autumn time for us all.” Gun Roswell
The last warm days
Before the cold rains
It is time to prepare
But do not despair
Summer may be ending
The nature surely changing
Soon it will be autumn
But the colours
Will be awesome
Fall Sunrise in the Early Morning Hours
“Something so special while waking up early, a sunrise spotted surely!” Gun Roswell
Sunrise, higher than high
In the early September sky
Over the morning clouds
The sun has spread its shroud
Blues and reds playing in a mix
Eyes staring completely transfixed
The cool crisp air caressing
Almost feels like singing
Rocky shores ahead!
“Life on the rocks, it certainly is!” Gun Roswell
Hard and cold they be, when autumn us sees
Onto the land falls, life slowing down to a halt
A frown on the faces forming, when it starts storming
Grey skies the constant companion with me now
It’s life on the slippery, watery rocks after all
Hence the name, or the expression, fall?
A Jack of all trades, but a master of pun
“I know many things?” Gun Roswell
I may know a little bit of everything
But sometimes, I am just pretending
When I get into a dark corner
And there is no kind of door there
I use humour, to dig my way out
Sometimes, I even have to shout!
The noise sprouting out of my mouth
So loud and silly, it’s just all, willy nilly
And then, I really do feel guilty
Then out pours the utter most filthy!
So guess you can say
I’m so stupid I just pretend
Play the part of the fool
Being a total tool
A Jack of no trades
And a master, of none?
Paranoid?
“I think I just may be, a tad paranoid?”
Voices, noises
Never good with so many choices
Watching, looking, staring
Who’s in my kitchen cooking
Daemons, angels, the devil perhaps?
God, Jesus and all those things fictional
Aliens and conspiracies more so
Paradoxes, global warming
At least that one is true!
The FBI, police forces, neighbours even
And with their cats and dogs too!
They are all watching, me!
I am, becoming, quite paranoid
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?
I spy, a fortress
“History, in motion on full display” Gun Roswell
Tall, big and dandy
Like a castle, made of sand
Home of many a kings and queens
While visiting, maybe some of them to be seen?
I spy, with my eye, a fortress
Defying history, by being ageless
Statuesque, with stony walls
Standing in place, never to fall
Plenty of people will stand there and ogle
Some of them looking through their goggles
A sight for the tourists and centuries
But maybe not there, for all to please
I am alive?
“Funny, how that thing did and happened?” Gun Roswell
Alive?
I am only alive when
Writing?
A story, a tale or a poem perhaps?
Until that time, I am gone
Existing, elsewhere?
Out there, in the stratosphere?
Is this, a simulation?
Real life or some memory?
But I am still, alive…
…Right?
Rantings Of A Third Kind 