Mundane on a Monday 1

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“Mondays without colour, what a drag!” Gun Roswell

Mundane on a Monday

Bus stop Cafe

In the middle of drizzling rain
A coffee cup, left a small stain
On the table of a minimalistic cafe
In the middle of a heavy street traffic
An unusual place for a respite
Almost on the tracks of a tram to sit
But the colourfully painted frame
And the comfortable seats, can take the blame
Of wanting to take a break
A few moments the city’s dust to shake
Before continuing exploration
In this small town Scandinavian

Flowery three

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“The gifts of summer, flowers all over hover” Gun Roswell

Flowery

Bells

Bells of garden keep on ringing
The prophesy of summer fulfilling
The lilac coloured creatures
Will be the best of the features
Of the small patch of colour complete
In the midst of a city concrete
Onlookers passing by
Soon they too will smile
Singing along to the sound
Of the bells ringing near the ground
What a pretty place to see
In a other wise grey sea

Flowery two

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“The gifts of summer, flowers all over hover” Gun Roswell

Flowery

Purple

Spread wide open to the sun’s rays
The purple belle sure has it ways
To lure in all the power it needs
And when night falls, it feeds

Pretties of all the flowers in the garden
It’s petals soft but inside quite hardened
You may look at it but do not touch
The belle does not care for others much

Each years she comes out at summer
Several weeks it lasts in full flower
But then the belle also must hide
For another winters smite to survive

Flowery one

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“The gifts of summer, flowers all over hover” Gun Roswell

Flowery

Pink

A pink peony in the rose garden
Tried to impose, sneak in, hide it’s true nature
But the others were much smarter
Imposing the impostor, right from the get go

They shunned, pricked, ridiculed, turn their backs
For trying everything and anything there really was no lack
The roses were adamant to chase the peony away
Never in a million years, would it be able to stay!

But a million years and more passed
And still the pink peony has lasted
Growing tall and strong and pink
In the garden, full of roses, in sync!

Tulips

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Posted in Simply Poetry/Daily Photo

“Poetry is the art of creating imaginary gardens with real toads”
Marianne Moore

Tulips

Tulips, gently swaying, in the warm spring sun
Their colour of the brightest red, indicating fun
Counting down from a multitude to one
Spring time is here: everyone has won!

Train Tracks

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Posted in Simply Poetry/Daily Photo

“Poetry is the art of creating imaginary gardens with real toads”
Marianne Moore

Train Tracks

Clickety-clack
On the train tracks

The finger taps
Someone, playing the sax
The birds along side, their wings flap
A gentleman, trying to nap
This is no place to relax
Just join this rhythmic parallax
Enjoy the beat to the max
For on this trip, no one pays the tax

Clickety-clack
On the train tracks

Piled Up

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Posted in Simply Poetry/Daily Photo

“Poetry is the art of creating imaginary gardens with real toads”
Marianne Moore

Piled Up

Piled up, for future consumption
Possibly, in a fiery combustion
Or at least, it was the assumption
The other option
To this odd concoction:
If you follow my suggestion
Maybe build a house instead?

Berries

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Posted in Simply Poetry/Daily Photo

“Poetry is the art of creating imaginary gardens with real toads”
Marianne Moore

Berries

Juicy and sweet
Its taste a treat
Mix it in a tea or soup
Maybe into your mouth just scoop
The seasonal red berries in the bush
Plenty of them, no need to push
Just make your pick
And soon enough, your fingers you’ll lick

Tree Tops

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Posted in Simply Poetry/Daily Photo

“Poetry is the art of creating imaginary gardens with real toads”
Marianne Moore

Tree Tops

Where blue and green meet
In a rhythmic windy beat
Where spring’s growth is incomplete
And the weather still in a loss of heat

Just take a seat
Admire the treat
The dance of the trees
In this seasonal breeze

Slow Boat

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Posted in Simply Poetry/Daily Photo

“Poetry is the art of creating imaginary gardens with real toads”
Marianne Moore

Slow Boat

Over the nightly waters
A few daring trotters
Have set sail to the land of promise
Looking for that ultimate bonus

A peaceful resting place
Where life still stays
Where nothing ever changes
Only surrounded, with familiar faces

The land of utopia
A proverbial cornucopia
The final destination
With one united nation