“There are leaves across the skies, seemingly alive” Gun Roswell


The leaves, which never fall, no matter spring, summer, winter or even fall

They keep on hanging there, being for ever green, the pretties anywhere seen

And then when the sun turns up to shine, against the coolest of blue skies

There are vibrations of various kind, the other colours, seen just again the dust

Even the very soft fluffiness of them reflected, against the blue up in the sky

And as the eyes do spy, all those sudden elements hidden there, on the inside 

What a surprise, for the weary observer of nature, never fully understanding the nature

Of those mundane leaves, which sometimes in the soft winds start to heave

But still are able, a most permanent mark on a person leave, just by seeing them be

Green leaves in monochrome 

“The green is a colour of monochrome, so why not make it in grey” Gun Roswell 

Green leaves in monochrome 

The lush of all the gorgeous greens, in various shades of the colours can be seen, but when the season hits, when the green colour is the very hit, the world will look and feel, pretty monochromatic at best, the colours albeit restful, can be seen as one single syllable dull, monochromatic in nature, literally, and they will take over the world, just like the snow fell upon and everywhere during winter season, summer will be the lush green grey without too much of a reason. And so, turning the one single colour of green, to something more closely seen, as the symbol of the monochrome theme, albeit equally as vivid and lush, even if only mentioned in hushed tones, as the one and full grey, never really could slay, the palette of the liking of everyday, and therefore not a popular choice as the voice of those in the grey’s corner, are usually more quieter than the rest. So, even if you love the lushness of all the greens, perhaps having a more open minded approach, a variation to the theme and try to let the grey shades in?

Last of the leaves to fall

“The last ones always do hang on for dear life until the very end, funny that is though“ Gun Roswell

Last of the leaves to fall

The autumn soon passing as it like nothing else is forever lasting, the leaves of the season, turning to faded colours, soon to take the deep dive onto the ground, where a pile will only be found before the turning to dirt and dust, because it is a must, the circle never ending even if on this day, the leaves still spending their time on the branches in a surprise set of sunshine. But if tomorrow will bring some wind and rain, those leaves will be stained with prickles of water and then, they too will falter and take the plunge, into the ground as it was predetermined from the experience of the same thing happening over and over again, the circular fashion and the life span of anything in nature really, and so, these leaves too realising freely, that it is the only way. And maybe not to take it as a dismay, rather the sense of being reborn, come next time, the spring and warmth and then from the very dust and rain, blooming again, in a new way, in colours lush green, prettier than ever seen.


“There are so many colours out there during the gorgeous autumn time, and it’s all very pretty isn’t it just!” Gun Roswell 


The trees are all changing colour, as the greens of the now moved away summer, just a memory now, but instead of moping around, thinking of what was first found and then lost, look instead at the plethora of a new and improved scheme, as painted all over the trees, all of them leaves in a different shade, of yellows, oranges and the brightest of reds, before it is time for them to go to their winters bed, to the ground, not to be found before the spring of next, nevertheless, it’s still not that time, so smile and glance around see what else can be found, in these colours proud and loud, so to please the crowd.

And, before this fleeting moment has passed, because it was never meant to last, just like the longer version before, that of summer, now totally gone, enjoy the tableau of this  painted  multicoloured mess of sorts, as it certainly is not a bore, as each time you get outside into the nature around, you will find something you can adore and then realizing hopefully, that this brief but colourful time is a score, more than the rest of the year’s changing seasons, even becoming a sort of a cliched folklore, for all to know.

Burning brightly with all kinds of reds

“The Autumn is the most colorful season a pix snapper could wish for, as nature is positively glowing with brightly hued shades of all reds” Gun Roswell 

Burning brightly with all kinds of reds 

The fall of summer, did not turn out to be a bummer after all, as all the great colours, came out for the ball of a festival, arranged special, to celebrate the turning of season, surely a very good reason to do just that. After all, wouldn’t anyone get a tad bored, of all the green in control, over the whole of the summer, and it seems, they still are trying to hold on, despite the colder weather having a grasp of the nights long at last. But, that does not really matter as the fact of it is, that one without the other won’t exist, but, they cannot do so, all at once. So, in the natural order of things, each of them will have to take turns when they will their arias sing, as the cold blues and whites will own the winter time, the greenish tints starting from spring until summer and when the autumn finally falls, all the fiery best are released as the harvest feasts, turn all of nature to a mild wild fire of reds. And that is the joy of the season of fall.

Flora and the Leaves

“The flowers in the garden sure are blooming right now” Gun Roswell

Flora and the Leaves

Leaves of purest greens, so totally slender and and sleek. Some of them looking nourished and clean. While others are eaten and filled with holes, most likely done by the feasting bugs and worms. But, no matter their status, they all have a past. Even if not from a very long time ago and their existence will not that long last. Still, for this very moment, they are standing tall and strong in the summer’s warmth, bathing in the rays deserved by all.

Swaying gently with the soft winds lulling them during the days longer. Only waiting for a flyby bug or a small bird deciding to stop on the branch for a brief sing while flapping their wings. Looming gently over the small buds of a flowers to be, which hide beneath these protective sleeves until such time when they sprout out in the air and looking for their fair share, of admiration. And all this simply because the green coloured armours have shielded their growth until the day they are strong enough to come out and make their way towards the skies just like those leaves did before them and now, it is time for the backstage.

Under, the palm tree leaves, I sleep

“It is, a different kind of fun, hanging there, under, the bright sun, but then again, I don’t like to run”
Gun Roswell

Under, the palm tree leaves, I sleep

The warm winds, gently, heaved, above me, in the tall palm tree leaves
As I laid under there, in the dark shadows, looking up, only to see
The sunshine, now curiously peeking, as if for something, it had to seek
Or then it was just me, being, once again, that one special kind of a geek
As I was conjuring up, all kinds of scenarios, where the very sun, was a being
From another world, with an agenda, and some sort of a ransom, and then chasing
All us, lowly humans, here, on the planet Earth and because of just that, making
Us, to go to permanent hiding, from those ever vigilant and ever searching
Rays so brightly lit, it was becoming more and more difficult, in the shadows to fit
But, for me, the gentle, caring and soft cover, of the tall and ever green
Palm of a tree, provided all the cool shelter, I could possibly ever need

A few, then two, then, only one (mundane monday)

“I think you can find all the elements that you can find in great literature in mundane experiences” Harvey Pekar


A few, then two, then, only one

It started with a still quite a few
But then, there were only two
Until, finally remaining
A single, solemn one
Nothing was there, to be done
For the harsh time of Winter
Had finally, to this place, come


Two Drops

“Nature painted with colours, odours and rain” Gun Roswell

Two Drops

In the early morning hours
Before the eternal showers
The soft rain fell
From the skies it came
Landing on a tiny ball
Which alone on the branch stalled
After all
It was that time of the year
When all living things should fear
The utter and total destruction
When nature goes under reconstruction
But the tiny little ball of a berry
Kept hanging on like a cherry
The pebbles of rain
Hanging on to it heavily
Dragging the tiny thing down
All the way, to the closest ground
Leaving it undone
Before the tiny ball of a berry
Too, was ultimately