“Keep watching the above skies, you’ll never know what you there might find” Gun Roswell
High up the blues in the skies
Glancing up, towards the clouds made of fluff, I see all the blue hues covering the ceiling of this wide world and then I am feeling, like the one and only lucky little geek, as I can sit here and just be, for a while at least, simply free of all the worldly troubles down here on this very ground. But up there only stars and the moon can be found and it all sounds like a nice space to escape to, at least sometimes. And after a while as I have fantasised, of being a being able to fly, high up there and after the moment has passed and I’m back on this so called earth again, as I stand and gaze up towards the skies I just left before coming back down and guess what! I am feeling, fine even without spending one dime and then, I can once again smile.
“Cool, calming, ever so charming, is the water, in the colour of blue or basically, any other hue will do” Gun Roswell
Blue, Bluer, Bluest
Water reflecting the surrounding blue skies and the ocean hues, on to the surface, of the small pool, situated on the patio, painted in blue. The pools so totally small it only fits one person at the time, which is all, just fine, as I really do want to be, left alone. At least, for the very moment, when I am feeling blue, brooding, within my few thoughts, which is really not a lot, but still, something, telling when surrounded, by all the blue. I really do enjoy, the blueness of it all, the water, the sky, the painted WHY on the wall. The colour of my t-shirt, jeans and even my eyes, all blue as am I. What ever it is, it’s gotta be blue, the coolest, and most calming hue. Like that of water. Water so fine, it is almost divine and that, makes me smile, even if I am so totally blue, it is almost transforming my very being to a translucent cool blue hue. But, more the blues, is really not that bad, as it does not have to be sad. Just blue, bluer and then I am turning to the bluest of them all.
“It looks like the picture-perfect version of a paradise, except it’s all in the colour of blue, but hey, that is simply my chosen hue” Gun Roswell
Paradise in the colour of Blue
What is the most sought-after place, either here on Earth or then somewhere else, even around in the galaxy, where all of us so hard try to find, that one perfect spot, where it all supposedly did start for our kind? The life, us, the animals, all the other beings including the aliens out there, which I know to exit, all the surroundings, even if the scientists might state, it was a some kind of a big bang of a thing, which created it all, like throwing in a ball, that split to a million pieces, leaving, all that you now see, behind?
Well, you may know it called simply, as Eden or some other cute name, now stalled, in some temporary time dilation field like this was a scene, straight out of some fantasy flick. But, it’s still there, in whatever shape or form, and, if you keep on looking hard enough and long enough, that one special spot, can be yours, no matter where or even when nor what colour it might exist in, you will know what it is, when you finally with your own eyes it witness, Paradise.
Sailing, into the blue wide open, to cure, all, of my ailing blues, failing, no matter how far I am sailing, now only to be continued, in the total blue, as it is eternal, for us, chosen few.
“All is still, in the forest, before the fall of the night, at least, on the surface, it seems to be so“ Gun Roswell
Blue on white, before the night
Crispy and crunchy, the frozen flakes on the cold ground sounded, under the small steps On the path of the searchers, which deep into the snowy white forest before night fall led It was that time of the eve, where the silence too fell, just a little before the sun would leave Making way for the moon to rise in the skies, but before that, a stand still on the low and high A moment of true blue colours surrounding all those, who dared to follow the calls of the wild Perfectly still, nature turning from white to the coolest of hues, from light blues to darkening night Staying there until the moment had passed, only then venturing back home in the pale moon light
“When the traveller is weary, she takes a seat wherever she can manage” Gun Roswell
Blue seating, in a far away land
The long time and now weary, traveller, had finally made it through To this, far away and strange land filled with all things cool…
Well, at least, imagined the place, from the recesses of the mind What ever was there, a faint memory even, at this point, was just fine Because, as it mostly is done these days, all around the world In reality, the only place you could totally off to get hurled Would be that odd space, between your own sofa and the fridge Never mind, going outside and crossing over, say, a tall bridge!
But, as usual, I tend to digress, so without further stress Back to the topic of travelling, especially one done, in an armchair In the comfort, of your own small or it might even big, lair The images of beaches running on end, with blue skies and sun shines Where each and every single day, life running, to its own accord Never mind, that while, in a foreign land, for you, no chores!
Well, that is, since usually time away spent, is supposed to be some kind of holiday When one actually, and physically, goes away and, in another and most likely rented home stays
But, enough of the commentary, as this poem is not going so greatly As it was supposed to be about seating and travelling and going somewhere else, maybe eating In a restaurant of choosing, yourself completely in the exotic foods emerging And for that, picking up a respite, like a bench or a chair or similar seating Then letting someone else do the serving and finally, after a moment, relaxing Because hey, you just got out here, in this great place, where time stands still
So, for now, the virtual traveller has stopped, in her tracks, taking a breath deep And finally letting out some of the slack on the chosen, blue and cool looking respite
“It’s so hot and bright, it’s way too sunny, and I am not waring my shades!” Gun Roswell
Under the burning sun
The burning sensations on the pale skin Some say, that being here, like this, is a sin Stripped down to the very basics A layer of thin cloth strapped around the slick Oiled up body now splayed for all to see On this sandy and none too secluded sea
Yes, it is again that time of the year When finally able to shed all that fear Of wearing nothing but a skimpy outfit Even if on a far away private beach But the shame of it all has been stalled As the sun beckons under its power to fall
No matter, if someone wants to run an tatter A tale of the odd ones out there, under the sphere Of the golden and oh so bright light Laying there, all days on end, their times spent In dull motionless moments, without moving The angry mockers their constant torment
But they do not care, of the long stares Because this is the time for nothing The nothing of the very moment spent Under the lazy sun, without talking Without thinking, simply laying, eating Drinking, the troubles away, because hey! It’s that time of the year!
“Sunday was supposed to be the fun day, but it turned out to be a slump day, meaning I was slouching in my chair all day” Gun Roswell
Sunday Blue
The day started just like any other day, with the alarm going off, much to my own dismay As even the sun was still asleep, and only stars to be seen, so, in bed still, had I intended certainly to be It was definitely way too early, for anything else but feeling surly, even if my stomach of hunger was churning So what was I to do, except maybe, the weather gods to sue, for not giving me the needed light, for my day to guide The only glimpse in this otherwise dull day, after checking the calendar, was that it was Sunday So there really was no hurry, not even one slight worry, I needed somewhere to scurry, real quick, in a state of blurry
But, as I was awake, then getting up the only option, and venturing into the kitchen to make some concoction To start this seemingly already doomed end of the week, certainly, there was nothing for this day to seek, than maybe some time to sleep Alas, this had not been the case, as I was now, somewhat fully awake, so from no on, I would just have to fake To have a good time and enjoying my so called day off leisurely fun, but then there was the pun As I was far too tired and annoyed to think of anything nice to do, so what happened next? You guessed it! I was totally and fully engulfed, in the all consuming Sunday Blue!
“The island in the middle of nowhere, turned out to have so much more to give, than just a deserted beach side view“ Gun Roswell
Monumental on an Island so Blue
The small airplane, slowly landed, onto a narrow strip As of this day, it is the start, of this one, and special trip It was not expected, nor was it, really ever planned But soon enough, the expedition will start, of this unknown land
A tiny island of a thing, was that a wish or a plea? What on earth, could there really be, to see? Jungle with buzzing insects, a small hut and no running water? That were the best guesses, for this, well eternal explorer
Still, the hopes were up in the air When entering on the promised fare As this was some much deserved time off From the daily huff and puff
But what then turned out to be Anything and everything dull and bleak Was an expedition, of profound proportions Something not soon to be forgetting
The island, was anything but lacking The options multiple with all amounts of trekking Views and vistas filling the eyes and mind There really was no other place like this kind
Monuments, art and history, and not forgetting the rest of it Architecture, animals and people, never anything simple Colour and nature, lush would be the most apt description All of it so plentiful, the cameras memory filling as did mine
What was supposedly a dull few days of relaxation Turned out to be so much more, on this little island Where the time on strong and fast wings flew On this, totally monumental even in the colour, of true blue
“Nothing paints the feeling of longing and sadness better, than the colour of blue, right?” Gun Roswell
Blue, by the seashores of more
Autumn descended, over the land of green The colours still vibrant, more gorgeous than ever seen But, the one constant shade, in this, all Whether winter, spring, summer of even fall Is the one, of the coolest and deepest, of blues Still, hovering, over the stormy seas, as the one true hue The solemn colour of decor, clothing or even the mind When the world around you, has not been, that kind
Alas, being blue, singing the blues, is not as bad as you may think Especially, when reflecting the calm hue, over that kitchen sink It is a reminder, of those warm and sunny lazy summer days Where the time by the seashores of the more, were spent in a daze Now, reminiscing, those nostalgic times, some bad some just fine Some of them even spent, by the waters edge, sipping, cheap wine So, if you now, decide to spend your time, in all the blues Then hey, there are always silver linings, to each and every colour’s hue!
