Blues for the blue

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“The eternal struggle to keep the blues away, why I ask you, why can’t it simply stay?” Gun Roswell 

Blues for the blue

The feeling, oh so very sad
You feel, like you are just through and through bad
But, there is really no getting mad
As there is no quick or final cure for that

Singing the blues as some poets call it
But does not mean one piece of shit
To those, deeply in the churning throes 
Of that ever and eternally enclosing ditch

But since, the all consuming feeling cannot be ignored
To the point of singing and writing poetry of bored
When all them around you, tone down and start to snore
The best bet is to embrace the blues

And when someone asks or protest of them hues
Just grab a pair and make them walking in your shoes!

Sunday Blues in blue

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“Sunday is always spent in the mood of blue, whether it be the colour of the clothing, the colour of the ocean or the colour of the sea, it’s all so clear, you see?“ Gun Roswell

Sunday Blues in blue

The Sunday noon sun shine, hit high in the above blue skies
Almost as high as did the cool blue waves of the otherwise calm ocean fly
But for the one, now dressed up in all blue, just for the sake of pun
The blue was more than just a dress code, or the blue bird over flown

Sunday was always the day of feeling bringing on the one specific colour
It even had that special and all so familiar odour
The one with hint of sadness, maybe even a touch of madness
But mostly, it was a reminder of an ending, even, whilst leisurely time spending

Despite all the moods, hitting mostly, towards the blues
Sunday was and always will be, the time of reflection of all the dues
And maybe, even some of the don’ts, but mostly hopes
That the new week will bring forth, something much more worth
Than a simple afternoon spent wallowing, in the total blues

Wordless Wednesday (with a few words)

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Sailing, into the blue, to cure, all, of my blues, failing, now continued, in the blue, it is eternal, for us, chosen few.

Blue is the Beach

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“To lie under the blue sky on the coolest of sands” Gun Roswell

Blue is the Beach

Why don’t you, come on over,
To this place quite special, where
The Heavens, meet the Earth
This really is, the end, of your search

A place where, all that is sometimes lost, is now found
A place where, the skies, are the same, as the grounds
A place where, time itself, stands completely still
A place where, there is only need, for one, special skill

Enjoy this life, that now exists, in the here, and now
Of the time for freedom and also, being proud
Of the time for total celebration and, yes, even singing
Of being what you are, as you come so far
Simply enjoy yourself, in the here, and now

Blue Moped Ride

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“Take a ride on the wild side, with a blue moped, then add on a huge smile” Gun Roswell

Blue Moped Ride

A slow ride on the minimalistic size blue motorbike
Turned out to be surprisingly the most interesting hike
Hardly fitting my big fat lazy derrière on its seat
But got on it with effort anyway, as I would never admit defeat

My knees, totally bent, almost to the very hilt
I am sitting here, on this, very very,,, well, world’s most smallest of seats
With the wind and all them flies (who knows what else) in my face
Yes, truly this is, a most memorable stage

Riding along the slow and narrow streets at noon
Certainly, to the onlookers, I am way too funny, much like a buffoon
Cannot say I am very much enjoying the scenery
As the most of my concentration is used to keep the tiny bike steady

But like all good (or bad) experiences, which do not last long, my ride has ended
And I am really so glad, that all this time to have wasted
At least, in learning a lesson of sizes and even gravity
And some people should just stay on the other side of sanity 

(Myself included ;P)

It’s cold outside

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“It’s freezing weather, ice the only tether for my poor bike” Gun Roswell

It’s cold outside

When the weather outside is cold and frightening
And you start to wish for thunder and lightning
That one perfect summer’s storm to make it’s way
In to this white and blue ice hole we now in stay

Even the poor bike is frozen solid to the ground
I was so lucky, to even have it found
Under all the pounds of heavy piles of snow
So now, all I need, is a big shovel to plow

But after some heavy lifting outside
I finally got out my one and only ride
And ventured to the streets paved with white
Which was an adventure, but not without a smile

The winter may be harsh, unforgiving and cold
But once you get inside, with something very warm
Looking out the window, the view filled with so much charm
This scenery is worth, more than a pile of gold

Monday blues

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“It usually happens, on Mondays, the blues, Monday blues” Gun Roswell

Monday blues

Looking out the window
Window, with a big frame
Frame, so large and pointing to the yard
Yard, between the big houses
Houses, which are built so tightly
Tightly, that you can hardly squeeze
Squeeze your tiny self, between the buildings
Buildings which are forever growing taller
Taller, while me, myself, am growing smaller
Smaller, but not that of my dreams
Dreams, of the wide open sea
Sea, with all the shades of blues and greens
Greens, like the forest hardly ever seen
Seen only, in my, eternal dreams
Dreams, so big, it makes me think
Think, if I will ever be able to see
See the true forest of green or even the wide sea
Sea, where the blues are so cool
Cool as the bluest of skies above
Above he wide open calm ocean
Ocean, which will be never ending
Ending only, if I stop, dreaming

The wide of it all

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“The great wide of it all, still the world looks a tad small, don’t ya think?” Gun Roswell

The wide of it all

When on a trip, out there, you know, abroad
Then looking at the great wide of it all
With a pair or set of completely new eyes
Wonders of nature, exotic people, all that I spy
Nothing is boring, as my mind keeps on soaring
Waiting for that next thrill, just around the corner
Maybe I am a little sad, that I wasn’t born here
But then again, I don’t think I would so much time spend
Experiencing the great wide of it all

Blue and the Parasol

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“Under the shining sun, beside the blue seas, my parasol and I, sleep” Gun Roswell

Blue and the Parasol

The sun”s shine beckoned with its shiny warmth
To come and lay down on the sand covered sea shore
Where the ever changing blues are the colours of all
And time itself has come to a complete and utter halt

When stepping into the bare and fine stand for the first time
I cannot help but to be amazed of the beauty and then crack a smile
Feeling so tiny in this place open and totally wide
As even the critters beside me are so completely kind

Side by side, me and natural inhabitants coexist
As the calming effect of the sea and the skies me enlist
The other side of the world no longer matters or exist
As me and my parasol have laid a claim this spot of pure bliss

From sunrise to sunset , myself I let
This gorgeous natural resort leave me with an effect
Of calm, unhurried, never too worried kind of specs
Who knows, I may stay here until the time of my final rest

Overcast

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“Something foggy this way comes” Gun Roswell

Overcast

The misty air descended
Around the mountain side well defended
Bringing in the eeriest of feel
For the local dwellers with to deal

The sunny side now completely gone
Where the blue shaded fog takes a hold
The cold air surrounding
All the sea and land compounding

A long moment to be shared
Everyone feeling properly scared
On a day of October thirty first
And on it’s eve, following second