Olden Days I two

Posted on by

”Everything was so much better in the good old days!” Gun Roswell

Olden Days

Rustic

It may not be too chick
Even if it’s turning its other cheek
A cottage one could call rustic
Someone else would say quite busted
The wooden walls, soon to fall
Windows leaking, sometimes shrieking
Noises never heard
It inhabitants may disturb
But it’s always been in the family
So, giving it up, is not so easy

Maybe a new coat of paint
Will cover at least some of the stains
New doors and windows
Will prevent the wind blowing
At least indoors
The kitchen sink, which always stinks
Washing it up, may stop it
For a while at least
It all seems to be at peace
Until the next time then,
When,
Something is breaking down!

Olden Days I one

Posted on by

”Everything was so much better in the good old days!” Gun Roswell

Olden Days

 Laundry Day

When airing, your clean or dirty laundry
Just make sure, to not show off anything tawdry
People, these days, are so easily offended
And then, you will only get arrested
Even if to all your mistakes and faults you confessed
And told them all, it wasn’t even your dress there

So now, trying to explain your way out of this big mess
As the old school clothes seemed to be so filled with holes, no less

“But they were just fine a minute ago, or maybe it was ten years, I really don’t know,
Tell me why I should perfectly good garment away throw,
Even with big, see through holes,
They really keep me nice and cool, when the wind blows”

The argument for and against may have taken too long
In the end, the end results for either side were none too strong

Today, once again, is laundry day
My raggedy old things, on the washing line sing
The same old broken song,
Even joining, is the odd thong

“We may be old and worn, but we will not be scorned
By anyone’s looks of long, as there is nothing with us wrong (not really)
And we will hold together, with a thinnest of tethers
Until we are discarded, and into carpets yarn
So, never mind us here, just look over there!”

Directions I two

Posted on by

“It’s all in the perspective of things” Gun Roswell

Directions 

Flying Up

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!

Directions I one

Posted on by

“It’s all in the perspective of things” Gun Roswell

Directions 

Going Down?

On a direction, one way, towards, the subway
Deep down, below, under the ground, we now go
Stepping on the steep steps, off the railing never go let
Never can be too sure, what creatures lure
Behind the shadow, inside the dim lit tunnels
Running quickly, feeling a tad sickly
Then, on to the platform, every single one of us storm
A train approaching, no time for second guessing
Hopping on, hope being truly strong
That it was going to the right direction
But still the feeling of anticipation
Maybe, just maybe, I got really confused
And went into the absolutely wrong direction!

Shade

Posted on by

“Ain’t nothing wrong with some shade” Gun Roswell

Shade

Ain’t nothing wrong in being shady
Ain’t nothing wrong in staying in the shade
Ain’t nothing wrong in letting the shade in
Ain’t’ nothing wrong admitting to shade

Being inside the grayish shade
Might make you feel all cool and great
But remember to follow the rules of the shade
As they might let you avoid of becoming a fool of a big grade

So.
If you are determined of being shady
If you are prepared for always laying in the shade
If you are living your life in the gray side
If you are always right with your shade
Just do it!

Boat Ahoy! two

Posted on by

“Row row row a boat, gently down the moat” Gun Roswell

Boat Ahoy!

A boat from the times simple
May some good old memories kindle
On a day filled with sunlight
When nothing and none is uptight

Take a ride on the lake
With this ye old boat, no fake
Row a while, then maybe smile
On this day of summers so fine

It may be old a rickety
But try to use it skillfully
And to the wide side of the water’s deep
Then back again, it will have brought thee

Boat Ahoy! one

Posted on by

“Row row row a boat, gently down the moat” Gun Roswell

Boat Ahoy!

A boat from the past
Maybe it wasn’t meant to last
But refurbished and recycled
Now serving under a different title

A pot, maybe, of sorts
For anything that grows
A new life for itself and those living in
A cycle on put in a new spin

Fill it with seeds of flowers
Then after the cold rain showers
They will finally fully bloom
And wash away all that grey gloom

Elements

Posted on by

“Let’s get back to the basics” Gun Roswell

Elements

Cool turquoise waters under the scorching sun
The air as clear as blue, with a touch of fluff of white fun
The rocks and sand, together combine a mass of land
A touch of green, the grass purest you’ve ever seen

The smallest of atoms, forming some atolls
The colours blooming vivid, in the flowery livid
Sooner or later, masses start to form, into a uniform
Of sorts, for more solid beings, animals and humans, living

Until the palette is complete, then only, take a seat
And enjoy the tableau of it all, elements, creatures great and small
For without these elements, this place would be none
And soon enough, we would also loose, all the fun

Calm Seas for TBT

Posted on by

“The sea, once it casts its spell, holds one in its net of wonder forever”
Jacques Yves Cousteau

Calm Seas

A long walk behind me, legs giving up, trying, to get somewhere, where I can finally relax. Not one soul have I encountered for a long while, I did not even realize the time, just kept on walking, the only talking, was done to myself, by myself. Clueless, helpless, dragging myself forward, as more time passes by.

But then, something, a new odour, alerted my nose. Sniffing, thinking, this, is familiar. Something fresh like a breeze, maybe, with a touch of salt? I fasten my pace, walking towards the smell, my nose the only guide.

As I am walking, ney, half running towards the intoxicating smell, I can feel a cool breeze against my face. Sounds of what seems made by birds, fill my ears and get louder by the minute. Dare I hope this is what I think it is? Yes, it must be, and now, now I am running. Feeling the moistness in the wind, the sounds of waves crashing in.

Soon, I reach the end of my journey, standing, on the top of a cliff. Looking down, nothing but miles and miles of seashore. Sand and rock, blue ocean waves, birds a flocking in the distance. Fluffy white clouds, a little sunshine between them. The horizon blurred, with the sea and sky, blue on blue, in different hues. No one else has entered this paradise. It is almost undisturbed, as if no one else of this place has ever heard.

This, is the place, a place for me to finally sit down, and relax, enjoy myself, find myself. Heck, maybe I just settle down here, forever!

On the top

Posted on by

“From the highest mountain top, shouting out loud, until I drop” Gun Roswell

On the top

Climbing as high as I possible can
But of climbing, I am not really a fan
As I start to ascend, I know I am making a new trend
making it to the utmost top, no way I may this flop

Climbing, climbing, climbing until I drop
Nothing, no nothing, can make me stop
I am going to make it, up there, where the clouds lay
And when I reach the tallest top, I am there to stay