“There is always room, for one more cat in the litter, even if it gets a tad hairy sometimes” Gun Roswell
Step up Cat
Up the stairs, the tabby cat stepped Gingerly, without hesitation, it self let Inside the house, with smells of good Yes, it was, definitely, after the food
But the soft purring and determination Brought this tiny cat to the elevation Of a needed being inside the dwelling And so, without screaming and yelling
The tabby cat, who had landed a pad With much snacks and all them pats It could possibly ever needed in nine Times of life it still had, and that was a fact
“Everything scares me, always, even the number 13 and Fridays too, then again, all days scare me: I am a regular scary cat!” Gun Roswell
It is, once again, Friday, the 13th
It was, once again, really dark But then again, it was always dark At least, as far As I have that known Deep, deep down, within my heart
The totally scary thoughts I had always known, without a doubt And with a full facial pout I grabbed a hold of the shout But the inevitable was lurking around
It really, did not help That it was Friday, the thirteenth Who was knocking now, at my door Slowly, but surely, turning me, to the bore Of one… Mrs Hide
And then, the worst happened The warnings signs, unwrapping A great big red flash of light It was useless to more fight The change was upon me… a smile?
“Chip, chip, cheerios, everyone! What a lovely day, in the sun! Hey, you want to go out To sing and dance and shout? It’s such a lovely day On this thirteenth of a Friday! So let’s all get together And smile and laugh and what ever I just love to be so darn happy Cannot bother to be snappy Because life is really too good On this day of 13th mood! “
“As the moon lit up the dark night skies, and I could finally walk without stumbling on the narrow path“ Gun Roswell
Reaching for the moon from the tallest tree top
The full moon, hovered, high above all, in the dark night sky It was so brightly lit, that it totally looked, like a shiny ball of a light Alluring and completely inviting, as it was, with all of its luminescence I was so tempted, to catch it, and the only option for me presented Was, to climb up, really high, and up the tallest of the trees in sight And then, if luck would have it, I could ever so easily reach out And simply, capture, the brightly lit ball, in to, my very own pouch But also knowing very well, this trip, would not be without an ouch
Finally, daring, with some hesitation, to venture up the sturdy tree trunk I knew then and there, that the option, of this very mission, to totally flunk Was not an option at all, rather a the commissioned order, ever so tall And that was, to capture the mighty and bright moon, once and for all Alas, the forces that be, were definitely, not on the side of little ol’ me As the higher I climbed the tall tree, the more out of reach the moon seemed to be In the end, I reached the very top, and as I dared to gaze up The moon, was higher than even before and no matter what
I was not able, to even reach it So, that, in essence, was simply it! Remaining only, a tall tale of an endeavour With the completion time set, to never
“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!
“I am so damned tired, but I am trying, to stay awake despite of it“ Gun Roswell
Sleep, is so overrated
I wish, oh how I so truly wish, I could sleep, like some of the more exotic fish In perpetual motion, never, ever giving up, on the good kind of commotion Or then at least, like the famous Nikola Tesla, with only two hours, of daily sleep And then I could be, totally inventive and oh so creative, the rest of the time Because, or despite of being tired or even sick or simply surviving, off the grind But, then again, it still seems, that even, if I could less time on rest spend I would have difficulties, for all the great things I would want to do, to lend Even if all the precious time in the world, onto my waiting lap would be hurled
So, why, oh why, I am complaining again, you may me ask? Can’t I just simply, strip down some or more, off the planned tasks? The simple answer to that question, or then again, it is really not Could just be, that, I am, in all honesty, afraid, that if, I would ever stop I would never be able, to start over, again And then, on what, would I my time then spend?
“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!”
“A calm, cloudy, and sunny Sunday, what a contradiction indeed!” Gun Roswell
Sunday at the Beach
When the Sunday time, loudly, its present chimed We ran, like we were on fire, out there, from the dire Into the open wild nature, with colours so lush There really was no need for any kind of rush To enjoy the art work devised by our beloved Mother Nature Was there for everyone to see, without any kind of fee
But we ran, as fast as any one can, really For you see, there was somewhere else we wanted to be, really Beside the calm and cooling waters, fooling around like a bunch of sea otters We made our way, discarding all clothing, falling where ever they may Splashing into the soft waves, letting the healing waters save Ourselves in the process, as this was the place for us, the total bliss
We played and frolicked, until the darkness descended we stayed Then only, reaching for the softest of sands, lending each other a hand To find the discarded garments, a little dirty, maybe even sandy, was a mild statement But nobody cared, as it had all been time so well spent Out here, on the beach, on this summer’s Sunday we had reached And if we were to be lucky, maybe next weekend, we could come back again
“Celebrate the day of the cat, on a Saturday at that, but then again, every day, is Caturday for me” Gun Roswell
Grey Cat
The suave and sophisticated, completely, grey coated cat Was on her way towards the marketplace, with a slow scat She was the queen of her street, this busy, oneway leap But no matter how short or tall, this was her domain, after all
Greeting each and every passer by, with a loud and proud meow Getting patted along the way, even some treats, on the play When the afternoon clock finally beckoned, she was there reckoning To catch some fresh fish, from the sellers giving her the dish
Why, you may ask, was this grey coated cat, so completely sure Well, her main goal, may not have been as pristine and pure But, keeping all the mice and other crawly critters at bay Was her job now, so knowing that, she fully accepted her pay
She trotted down, keeping an eye on the eternal crowds And when spotting a shop with those smelly types of crops She was noticed and royally rewarded, for all the hard work As no rodent was insight, and that brought forth big smiles
The shop owners of the small village, were for ever grateful Of this small and furry feline, always on the hunt and prowl Keeping their habitat completely pleasant and germ free And she only demanding, such a small and easy to pay fee
Rantings Of A Third Kind 