Summer Memories

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“Ah, summer was so warm and light!” Gun Roswell

Summer Memories

Looking back, to the time, when the clouds were soft, the sky was blue and the weather warm
Looking back, with yearning, stomach churning, simply because
It was a time of elation, happiness of sorts, when only running around, in very short shorts
Never one worry of freezing or even several times sneezing

Summer, the season I worship
Summer, the time I can in peace sit
Summer, the state of light and colour
Summer, winter really has left me a bummer!

Reminiscing the good times, as always, that is what memories are about
It might have rained sometimes, been even too damned hot, but still I shout
“Summer, please come back again and as soon as possible,
Help me get out of this wintry white hole!”

Summer reflected

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“Oh summer, come back please!” Gun Roswell

Summer reflected

Through the mirrors of my glasses
I can clearly see as time passes
Visions of all the yesterdays
Within these reflected memories stay

Watching it all like a television show, so fun
My favourite ones, are those spent under the summer’s sun
When everything is warm and light
Even the state of mind without a fight

But lingering too long in the past
Can throw in the present a nasty cast
Looking back with only rose shaded lenses
Not giving a thought to all those paid expenses

Living in the here and now
May sometimes cause a frown
But the before today is gone
Some looking ahead should be done

The best bet would be not to dwell
And with the best hopes of a great future to sell
Live today the best you can
Because in those precious memories it too will land

Streets travelled I five

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Posted in Haiku

“All those streets travelled while on the roadside…” Gun Roswell

Streets travelled 

Seats out of the blue
Painted in the same hue, a cool
Respite, to take a seat

Sitting down, feeling the cooling
Sensations, like diving, in to an ocean
But in a seat at

The bus stop, where all
Other people sit, as I start to
Fantasies of the waters waves

I realize people start to
Stare, some giving me an evil glare
And I realize I am

Moving my arms in a
Fashion of swimming, or who am I
Kidding, it’s a dream, it

Seems, but I don’t care
I feel fine and I continue until
I reach the sandy shore

Streets travelled I four

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Posted in Haiku

“All those streets travelled while on the roadside…” Gun Roswell

Streets travelled 

The street filled with restaurants
So many choices, I can eat what
I want, the smells so

Good, all this food, what
To do, what to do? If only
There were just the few

But alas, now I have
To pick one up, take the plunge
And finally, have a meal

Streets travelled I three

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Posted in Haiku

“All those streets travelled while on the roadside…” Gun Roswell

Streets travelled 

Red respite at the bus
Stop, a welcome hop for the weary
Traveller, from a foreign land

Sitting and waiting for the transport
Obviously delayed, then what is the choice
To make? Another form of

Vehicles take? Maye a bike
Or skates? But then, the arrival would
Be late and that, is

Not an option, after a moment
Of hesitation, at the almost empty bus
Station, I hailed a cab

Streets travelled I two

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Posted in Haiku

“All those streets travelled while on the roadside…” Gun Roswell

Streets travelled 

Hells bangers on their bikes
Riding down the road side, ignoring all
The rules, as they say

“They were made for fools”
Driving very fast, moving every other car
Past, until they reach first

Place, in front of the
Row, all the others in tow, but
Since they are going so

Very slow, the bikers soon
Will be long gone, riding to where
Ever, never to be seen

Streets travelled I one

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Posted in Haiku

“All those streets travelled while on the roadside…” Gun Roswell

Streets travelled 

Walking down the lane of
Memories, even though none of my own
Since I never been here

Before, but it is a
Great feeling, even if it may stealing
Dwelling in the old times

Making new memories all mine
And after a while, this picture being
My memory lane saved in

Time, to dig up when
I feel nostalgic, reminiscing places travelled to
The lands of very far

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?