Pretty Flower I see
Pretty flower, bending in the wind
Never breaking, just a little shaking
When the blow is really hard
She acts really smart
Bundling up her petals
In a position very protective
Surviving the forces of nature
Without any kind of hatred
“The summer brings forth all kinds of colours, and some of them are yellows” Gun Roswell
Some Kind of Yellow?
The yellow flower alone stood, solemn, alone and proud, even in its own quietness still quite loud.
After all, it was a pretty little thing, it’s thorns adding a sting, to anyone daring to touch at least too much.
But as long as it was flowering, its petals glowing, with the yellow of the sun, looking like a lot of fun, nobody cared it was prickly.
As the beauty admired from a far, was as good as nothing at all, the summer brining out the best in all created ones.
“The pretty flowers are alive, it’s spring time so why not!” Gun Roswell
Little white things
Sprung out with spring
Before the bell could ring
Never knowing
The joy they could bring
“The flowers are popping up, must be spring?” Gun Roswell
Little white things
Sprung out with spring
Before the bell could ring
Never knowing
The joy they could bring
“Green and yellow, in the meadow, those signs of summer for all to see.” Gun Roswell
The floral scene
Filled with green
Like summer beans
Filling this screen
“One needs a hint of colour in ones life.” Gun Roswell
There it lurks
In the deep dark shadows
Soon bursting out, in fireworks
In one big colourful pose
“The summer brings forth all kinds of colours, and some of them are yellows” Gun Roswell
The yellow flower alone stood, solemn, alone and proud, even in its own quietness still quite loud.
After all, it was a pretty little thing, it’s thorns adding a sting, to anyone daring to touch at least too much.
But as long as it was flowering, its petals glowing, with the yellow of the sun, looking like a lot of fun, nobody cared it was prickly.
As the beauty admired from a far, was as good as nothing at all, the summer brining out the best in all created ones.
“They’re like small bells, swinging gently in the low winds” Gun Roswell
As the summer wind softly blows
The delicate white bells glow
From the sunlight’s reflection
You can almost see, the perfection
“Even the smallest flower, has the power!” Gun Roswell
Sitting, quietly, even prettily
In the green grass, so waste
Looking more, like a pool so long
Continued, to infinity and beyond
The total power, of summer
Grew up, with the answer
Of what is, the meaning of it all
Nothing, but flowers of course
Soft, bright, gorgeous, smelly little things
Which will make your heart openly sing
Colours, odours, can be all yours
For a moment at least, consider a lease
All the summer long!
“They’re busy at work” Gun Roswell
When the day begins
The garden alive, almost like spring
The birds in the trees sing
Their song, most likely, of the pending fall
As they sit and sing, in the trees tall
Sitting, in my solemn seat
Watching, the life on display, such a treat
With the smells and monotonous sounds
Everywhere, to be found
And then, comes, the annoying buzzing
As if someone started, really loud humming
Breaking, the calming routine of it all
Just as I, was thinking, the time had stalled
They are so loud, even if their bodies are quite small
They fly by, really, really fast
Like some kamikaze planes, from the past
And finally landing, onto the flowers pretty
Suckling in, all the nectar, really quickly
Clearly, the harvest time, for our winged friends
As their hive, on this precious food source, depend
Gathering it all ,with professional precision
Then bringing it back, for the queen’s decision
As to whom shall be rewarded, with the nectar of gods
That scene would indeed, be, an interesting thing, to blog
Rantings Of A Third Kind 