Something so wild about nature…

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“There is something to be said about nature, as us humans are the feast to some of the species roaming free out there. It’s a good thing, the circle of life if you will, right?!?” Gun Roswell

Camping - bears pairing humans with the proper wine

Urban nature
What a wild creature
Concrete, asphalt
Dog poop on the sidewalk
Grass may look green
But everyone has seen
It was spray painted
To keep it untainted
And just as a feature

Nothing quite like
The smell of petroleum
In the early morning
When riding that bike
Or taking a hike
Though fair warning
Try to avoid stepping
Onto the tossed wrapping
Made of aluminium

Reaching the heavy trafficked streets
Listening to the musical feats
Of the car horn section on the right
The jackhammers creating the beats
People shouting in chorus
Day feeling more bright
Like your name was Doris
Crossing the street at red light
Just for fun not out of spite

Come late evening
Walking through the darkened park
The streetlights broken
Someone a lurking
Deep in the bushes
Not at sea, so at least no sharks
Your pace fastening
Trying to be cunning
Then almost running

Finally arriving
To the safe haven
Entering the doorway
You realize you’re not in Norway
From the lack of pine trees
Rather the sweet smell of pee
Greeting you, making you sneeze
Not the perfume of choice
But it could be worse?

You could be camping
Out in the wilderness
In a sleeping bag, damping
Rain pouring on your sleepiness
Bears lurking outside
No where to hide
Clutching onto the covers
Hoping to survive
Until the sun rises

When it rains it really, pours

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“Sometimes, Mother Nature sure does add the salt to the open wound, like on this day, when the world is really going to Hell in a large size hand basket and fast, it rains but it pours!” Gun Roswell



The rain came down a pouring
The sound loud as roaring
Frozen drops, balls of hail
No time to stop and flail
Pounding hard onto the ground
A safe harbour needs to be found
The nature showing it’s full force
When it rains, then it pours

Basking in the rays of sun

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“It might be already autumn, fall, but these last rays of sun shine will be soaked“ Gun Roswell

They don’t look like much, and even the slightest touch, can make them crumble all the way down, but these hays, the lonely strays, far away, from the fields they were born, still hang on, until the last rays of summer, have been consumed.

And so, these strays loom, gently, softly in the winds of fall, as if trying some more time to stall, and still heaving, leaving, the onlookers in complete awe, as these, straws of summer almost passed, are quite strong and most likely will last, even past the strongest of winter’s storms.

The ye ole Window

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“The old frail construct, made of glass and a wooden frame, try not to breathe too hard near it or it might just fall a part“ Gun Roswell

Old, frail, inconvenient, hard to handle? 

Just the same, it has lasted a long while, even giving a few smiles, the delicate framework, the painted artwork, all of it from the past, refitted to a modern day cast. 

And so, serving a purpose once again, the window, lending a peek through time, as how else would any of us learn, of our past, the long history, present there, through this, very old looking glass.

That which remains

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“There is always something which survives the harshness of changing seasons” Gun Roswell

The nature, something wild and untamed
Even if nothing remains the same, when seasons change
Somethings, will never yield
To the yoke of weather, no matter how extreme

Keeping on, hanging there for dear life
Surviving, no matter what just might be the strife
The pests of nature as some might call them

But in the end, it does not really matter 
These survivors of the harsh, will become so much better

Each and every passing season
Some say, this might just be even treason
From Mother Nature trying to prove being better

But humans do not understand
What the real struggle really is all about
As they are the ones pushing forward
Destroying all that which does not seem smart

Then again, who are they to decide
Because in the end, nature will always triumph
Long after the last human has disappeared

The weeds as they were once called
Have made their stance at the waters edge
Still surviving, even thriving 
In the summers warmth and winters cold 

Last of the leaves for the year?

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“The last ones always do hang on for dear life until the very end, funny that is though“ Gun Roswell


The autumn soon passing as it like nothing else is forever lasting, the leaves of the season, turning to faded colours, soon to take the deep dive onto the ground, where a pile will only be found before the turning to dirt and dust, because it is a must, the circle never ending even if on this day, the leaves still spending their time on the branches in a surprise set of sunshine. But if tomorrow will bring some wind and rain, those leaves will be stained with prickles of water and then, they too will falter and take the plunge, into the ground as it was predetermined from the experience of the same thing happening over and over again, the circular fashion and the life span of anything in nature really, and so, these leaves too realising freely, that it is the only way. And maybe not to take it as a dismay, rather the sense of being reborn, come next time, the spring and warmth and then from the very dust and rain, blooming again, in a new way, in colours lush green, prettier than ever seen.

Shadow Play

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“Tall are the shadows, once on an October’s day” Gun Roswell

The sun in zenith
Standing beneath it
My shadow casting tall
Despite feeling small

The shadows at play
On this October day
Wish I could stay
A while longer

Happy Halloween?

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“Sleeping in the park, on a hard bench? Yeah, well, it happens to people a lot more often than you might think, and it’s not even Halloween!” Gun Roswell

Surrounded by dark and misty air
Missed the very last fare
Sitting on this, park bench
Wishing I had worn a warm trench
The eerie, dark and damp surroundings
Leaving my heart pounding
Not a single soul in sight
On this mystical, scary night
Wrapping my thin coat tighter
My mood getting suddenly lighter
I hear some noises
A car in the distance, approaches
Finally… do I have a ride!?!

Colours of October – Gone

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“They are fading fast, dropping too, like flies in summer, only it’s getting colder now.” Gun Roswell

The leaves of colour
Soon but shadows
Slowly fading away
In the October rain

Autumn leaves
Falling down
From the trees
On to the ground

The winds are soon
But a silent whisper
As the leaves bloom
Out of existence

October Moon in the Dark Skies

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“The moon is always there, but now, in the darkened night, it’s visible again” Gun Roswell

Shiny objects in the sky
Was it an unidentified fly by
Or just the crescent moon up high
Shining its light in this fool’s eye