“She sits there, whispering all kinds of secrets, so you’d better listen very carefully what the Oracle has to say!” Gun Roswell
History written in stone
Time to get my mind blown
Hiking up the many stairs
Counting my steps in pairs
The many ancient ruins
On top of the mountain
The reward of the effort
Which made me sweat a lot
“It’s like sitting on a piece of history.” Gun Roswell
I was looking for
A bench to sit on
What I hoped to score
Something close to a lawn
To lay my tired self
On a softer shelf
Then I saw it
The bench, made of stone
When I tried to sit
I felt it to my bones
Too hard for a fit!
Moving forward
I found one, made of wood
Maybe it wasn’t hard
Rather suitably good
Too soft for a fit!
So once again
I had to complain
But I knew, the right seat
Was just in reach
I just had to seek
A little while longer
As I moved along
The feeling now stronger
I knew it wouldn’t be long
I was close to finding
As I saw the metal shining
I finally found it
A bench made of metal
For me to sit
Soft as a petal
A purr-fect fit
“Island life, can be a strife, but during summer time, all is simply fine” Gun Roswell
The place so remote, you will have to take a boat and then row it, a long, long stretch, before even let, close enough to the very space , the perfect spot, right there, on the dot, an island, which when boarded will keep you smiling, all summer long, but only if you can stay strong, never ever complain, about the lack of, all them creature comforts, left behind, on the mainland, as learning to stand, on your own feet, then and there, on the island bare, so far removed from civilisation, the only ones are the flying birds, which can you disturb, in the morning hours, but it’s all simply fine, as learning the mundane life, on the remote isle.
“They are built to last, out of stone, from the past, carved with pride, for the durance of time“ Gun Roswell
They stand there, partly broken, but somewhat in tact, the materials used for building, had ensured they would last, so that now those of us historically inclined, can stand here and them admire, at least until such time, that they might expire, but the doubt it will happen in our lifetime, or even the next is very high, as most likely, these dwellings, made for living, commerce and even worship, will be there for the foreseeable future, even it them we would no longer nurture. But for now, there is no debate of that, rather the simple fact remains, that we, need them to preserve and make sure of so many more generations to come, this, our history, our legacy, will survive and then we can pat ourselves on the backs of a job well done, and stand there in awe to admire the end result. The beauty of the past, whether a painting, a statue or even a brick, is worth our attention, and so, we do go on admiring and making sure, there will be so much more under our watchful preservation.
“The sun is hiding, behind the clouds, like a soft shroud, shading those below” Gun Roswell
Sunshine, with a few fluffy clouds passing by
Sitting under a tree, letting out a sigh
Down the valley, up the mountains
The shadows are bouncing
The guardians of the palace
Keeping an eye on the chalice
A lazy gaze cast over the passer by
Stern look warning “don’t you even try”
Time is almost standing still
Nothing to do but chill
Another lazy day soon ending
To the evening light blending
Vacation time
The best of times
“It might be written in stone, but as long as you can read it, then totally do!“ Gun Roswell
The silent stones which can tell it all
There is hidden wisdom, right there in plain sight, written on the hardest of stones
By those who lived their very lives and have eves since gone beyond the rim forth
Wherever you look, the piles of discarded stones from that past, the words were carved
Perhaps by poor artists starved after having their say, right there, out there, on display
But if you choose to read said writing, and take it to your heart, well, it is really up to you
The choice to follow the perhaps wise words, from those gone before, maybe you should
Because history always keeps on repeating itself, and learning from the past mistakes
Well, you might be better off with the knowledge what did go wrong so long ago
And then apply to your current day life and if you are lucky enough, maybe, you won’t
Be the one to stumble up front, rather the one surviving the bad times and beyond
Just saying there are wise words out there written in stone, so read them, you cannot go wrong!
“Take a look through the glass, see what is on the other side, of history, to be more precise” Gun Roswell
Through another looking glass
The ancient vibes, through this very window thrive
The lush and green nature, the unexpected adventure
Waiting, for the present day traveller, just on the other side
If you feel daring enough, taking a deep dive
Into the very past of us all, the history, where time has stalled
Open the window, and take a good look around
Because there are so many wonders to be found
Just out there, outside the window of your home
Simply step though, the other looking glass
And don’t worry, you will be able to pass
Into the history behind the transparent barrier
As this, designated entryway is the very carrier
For anyone wanting to visit, their own past
“Those who served in the past, with little or none in compensation and with too much to do, never a moment to their own, only a resting place in the end” Gun Roswell
The waiting maid by the door
The young woman stood there, by the door, not sure whether she could step inside, onto the floor, after all, she was there only for one purpose, to serve, the family, those who would have her, a labourer for the day, working for minimal wage.
She wasn’t educated by any means, but what she lacked in knowledge, she always managed to compensate with courage and hard labour, never the one to shy away from any given task, no matter how hard and long it would last.
When the working day was done, staring in the early morning hours and ending by nightfall, when the rest of the family had fallen, sleep catching, as only then was she allowed to take a rest, for a few hours until the next arriving day break.
This circle of her life went on for years to come, until she was finally done, getting a proposal from the farmer’s son and off and married she was, not her goal in life, but way back when, this was how a woman’s life was spent… or then again, perhaps, it wasn’t in the so distant past after all?
“The old frail construct, made of glass and a wooden frame, try not to breathe too hard near it or it might just fall a part“ Gun Roswell
The delicate window
Old, frail, inconvenient, hard to handle?
Just the same, it has lasted a long while, even giving a few smiles, the delicate framework, the painted artwork, all of it from the past, refitted to a modern day cast.
And so, serving a purpose once again, the window, lending a peek through time, as how else would any of us learn, of our past, the long history, present there, through this, very old looking glass.
“The land, certainly not in good hands, with the permanent darkness descending upon, after all, this is the starting event, of the Polar Nights “ Gun Roswell
The darkness descends
The totality of it all, the darkening skies, the feel almost of night, and the sun up, none too bright, almost gone, swallowed by the grey clouds.
The Polar Nights, as the dwellers up North called this, state, of sorts, the darkness descending, for months on end, all the way up until the year’s end.
There was nothing to do, except to accept the inevitable, stay indoors, have the lights on, and try to pretend, it was still day, even if looking out the window, would tell, quite the different story.
Rantings Of A Third Kind 