“It’s all in the perspective of things, right?” Gun Roswell
Catching the winds of spring
Soaring high up, my song to sing
I am a pretty bird in flight
And I may not always choose right
But I am sure this direction
Is the one I need for completion
Of my getting up so high
Even so far as the crows fly
Despite being a miniature beaked thing
There is no rule saying I cannot sing
And thusly, I am up here
In the open wide stratosphere
Higher than any other bird ever
In your face, for being clever!
“Spring is going to spring, at least we can hope it will!” Gun Roswell
Spring in the city of Barcelona
It’s that time of the year
When life is kicking to full gear
The signs are clearly out there
Just venture outside without fear
The flowers, birds and bees
Come out from their hiding to seek
The freshness of new life in leap
Open your own eyes to see
Time for travels to a country foreign
Hoping some sights to be scoring
Nothing in this place is boring
Even the buildings tell a story
Look up and down, and all around
Plenty of things and people to be found
Nature at is best, even the ground
Green grasses, leaves and flowers make a sound
Spring at home or over seas
Nothing better on the wish list indeed
Glad to shed the clothes of winter
And tell all, spring is finally in here
“Sometimes, one simply needs a break from it all.” Gun Roswell
Island life under the shade
A small Island, perhaps Greece?
A small piece
Of our very own history
Beyond the centuries
The oldest of towns
Considered the jewel of the crown
Alas the soft sunny beach
At your very reach
Ixia, Kamiros or Lindos
A small drive with the bus
Everything you’ll ever need
On the small island of eternal peace
“Roses of any colour are so gorgeous, even in black and white poses” Gun Roswell
Roses of red in monochrome pose
The neatly made arrangement, in the tall vase
Making sure, the flowers, in an orderly stance stay
The fresh cut stems, certainly trimmed to fit
As all the colourful, roses inside of it neatly sit
The pose, so completely natural, it’s almost second nature
The plush petals trimmed, to reminisce that of a statue
The strong yet delicate odour, filling, the surrounding air
As such is the nature, of this ever so romantic floras flair
Even, when stripped all the way down, to the bare basics
The lush colours, the volume, and all other imaginable clicks
These, as the most beautiful roses, still stand tall in their form
Grey in colour now, but, that could have easily been the norm
But, it does not really matter in the end, too much really
Whether the image can be seen sharp, or even so clearly
And certainly no kind of colour, even black or white
Can bring out the very essence or do just justice
“The world is filled with so much colour, so better add some black and white to it!” Gun Roswell
Cloud Building in the High Skies
Is it a mirage?
A clever camouflage?
What ever the cause
You can only applause
“There is something about the early morning mist on the waters edge, eerie, but pretty” Gun Roswell
Muggy Waters
Greeted by a view in monochrome
A foggy visual in complete monotone
Water’s surface windblown
Someone give me a phone!
This image needs to be known
Or my fame will be with the winds gone
“The night or the day, no matter which way you decide to cypher it, the moon is out there, hanging above even if somewhat dimly lit“ Gun Roswell
The moon in noir
The moon was out, hanging above in the clear blue sky, nothing there to spy, not really, but it could have as easily have been in the middle of the night, as the light, was so dim.
Either because of the timing, being that of summer, the day never ending, and so day or night, all the same, as the sun and moon together keeps on spinning.
Or then, it was the day of a ver dark and dreary autumn month, the shades blurring in together, to each other, the shadow, the light, all the grey shades of neither and then both, the monochrome, the noir, all of it one simple colour.
Whatever it is you see up there with your own bare eyes, is the truth, whether the sky is blue, or pitch black dark, the moon is always there, looking mighty smart.
“Oh the snow! It just keeps on pouring, doesn’t it!” Gun Roswell
Winter in Black and White
No sense in wasting colour
It won’t get any better or duller
The nature all in monochrome
Like after a white paint bomb
“Life in black and white like in the olden days, so simple and neat, am I right!?” Gun Roswell
Life at sea in Monochrome
I am neither black or white
I am just a grey delight
Maybe not so much fun
Being only a colour of one
That of a monotone
But not a clone
Or then I am, whatever
But,
You may call me,
Monochrome
“My philosophy is quite simple: it’s not just black and white, but sprinkled with so many shades of grey” Gun Roswell
The Flower
Going, going, almost gone
Now from summer, it’s so long
But something else, will come along
When fall and then winter
Will sing their songs
Rantings Of A Third Kind 