“The winter is filled with nothing but blacks and white colours, never mind the odours, as the flowers went with the fall rains!” Gun Roswell
Black and White
Yes, those are colours bright!
In the snow filled light
It’s simply Nature,
Shining, ever so bright
“Those mythical figures adorning our homes and perhaps lives, saviours and even spies? Alas, looking rather nice, at least, when staying on them shelves or wherever else they just might dwell.” Gun Roswell
Angels and elves,
Where do they dwell?
Filling the shelves perhaps
Putting on spells on us
Ringing the holiday bells maybe
Letting us know not to be lated
Of the seasonal celebrations
And so,
All is now well again
“Sometimes it’s just a slow week is all, but then, it’s suddenly Sunday?” Gun Roswell
The days come along one by one (usually the way they do)
It’s almost like singing a song (verse by verse moving along)
Today it’s Tuesday, when only yesterday it was Sunday (that’s how I recall it)
And now, it’s getting late, no matter how I hesitate, tomorrow will be here, I can feel it near (What do you know: It’s Wednesday and midweek, what a geek!)
Guess I need to stop worrying about Mondays anyway (Oh, did you worry before? Did not know that…)
Since the days keep on changing without my aid (Yeah, need a time machine for that!)
Why worry about some day, when there is always the next day (True, do like the Spanish do, manana!)
So, on this day of …ahem, Tuesday, I swear, not to worry about another damned day!!! (Liar! You know this promise or what ever is as good as the up and down going fever! You will never keep it, trust me, I know shit!)
Bring it on Tuesday, Wednesday and even Friday (Don’t forget Monday and something else!)
Every day, from this day on is my day (note to writer, how many times can you get away with the word “day”?)
I will start appreciating the here and now (Yeah, really! Like to see that)
And then, if not, nobody have a cow! (We already did! It’s there in the backyard!)
“Something about stepping over the lines, alas, how can you avoid it?” Gun Roswell
Lazy, hazy afternoon
Sitting, quietly, by the pool
Watching, the sun,
Painting shadows, all around
Every nook and cranny coming alive
Almost like sunlight, doing a cool jive
Nature and art, at its best
Me, with my camera, am just a guest
Recording all this beauty
As the lines and shadows, do their duty
Soon, the moments have passed
And the shadows else where are cast
But at least for now
I am glad I got the witness this, line of a show
“Sometimes, a cat simply needs a walk, but why waste them delicate paws as handbags have been invented!” Gun Roswell
“I keep my cat
In my handbag”
Said the old hag
And, with a snag
Lighting a fag
“It’s not a gag,
so just cut me some slack”
She quickly snapped
As she zigzagged
A price tag
Like a yellow flag
Flashing on her ragtag
And out of fashion coat
Stepping into a boat
Flinging in her large tote
The cat sprung out
And onto the float
In a few quick strokes
She rowed across the moat
“There is colour in the colourless, just, take a good look and you’ll figure it out!” Gun Roswell
The faded colour
A reminder of the past
Many nuances to discover
Monochrome to last
Once a colourful picture
A photographer’s signature
Now, maybe a work of art
Or close to someones heart
“It is the end for this year, summer, fall, winter knocking at the door…. alas next year, same time same bat channel?” Gun Roswell
The end of August
Time to adjust
To the coming of Fall
No use trying to stall
The cold and rain
Will soon gain
The sun rays are few
Feelings of blue
Until the foliage
In multiple colours
Will brighten the days
Get you out of the haze
And life is bright
Once more
“Bring me rain, to be able to breathe” Gun Roswell
Bring me no shine no more
But lots of rain down on me pour
I need to breathe in the liquid
This sunshine is killing me quickly
I tried so hard to adjust
Because I was told I must
But in the scorching light
I feel my will lost the fight
I was happier in the darker dreary
Feeling everything near me
The shiny bright open wide
I cannot find a place to hide
Shadow almost gone now
Even the winds hotly blow
Only one place left to go
But I cannot reach the under growth
Please hear my plead o’ mighty Thor
Send down some rain and roar
Heal this bleeding sores
Before all that remains is deadly scorned
“The sea is calm just after the storm, and now, the ships are moving back and forth again, so what are you waiting for? Let’s go on a boat ride!“ Gun Roswell
The fog, finally clearing from the waters edge, soon something else, there will be wedged. The level of the horizon, I think is the best, and so, gazing into the void intently I can see, there are two boats out there, meeting at sea, something not foreseen, but rather a random happenstance, at least on first glance.
And so, it indeed was a random encounter for sure, as neither of them knew in there they were lured. The change of weather had caught them by surprise, and so, the equipment haywire almost caused the demise. Alas, snap thinking of the captain made them safe and so now, out there in the high seas, the two craft suddenly meet.
But whether it was a change encounter of any kind, the ships meeting, well, it was all just fine. As the greetings exchanged while passing the other, was more than a hello and less than a hugger. And then, each of them back on their own route, to make their way to the other side.
“So, we meet again! My dearest, not! Monday! Why can’t you be gone already?” Gun Roswell
Monochromatic
It’s really electric
Even with only a few colours
You can smell the odours
Of the world of greys
Where all the light
And even shadows stay
Monochromatic
Is the world often seen
But even the plain shades
From white to all the greys
The nuances are there
You just need to stare
And up they pop, in your face
Monochromatic
I am getting quite ecstatic
The dance of light
And the bass of shadow
Never me fail
Just letting it all go
The bright colours
Do not bother me anymore
Rantings Of A Third Kind 