The moon in noir

Posted on by


“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.

Winter in Black and White

Posted on by
1


“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 at sea in Monochrome

Posted on by


“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

In Monochrome (seven)

Posted on by

“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

In Monochrome (six) 

Posted on by

“Black and white? The two colours shine so very bright, am I right?!”  Gun Roswell


The Lighthouse

A tall tower and its smaller twin
Living, side by side,
On an island, made from winds

With the blue ocean wide
And the land around them thin
No hiding, from the high tide

But together they survive
For they are kind
And nothing them, can divide

In Monochrome (five) 

Posted on by

“Capturing someone’s soul in a black and white photograph? Ominous? Or perhaps preservation for the future?” Gun Roswell


The Ruins

High up
On the mountain top
The basic instincts
Are kicking in:

Clouds filled, with life giving water
Arrived into the valley, with a fog like holler
Do not worry about survival anymore
Looks like the weather gods,
Rewarded us with a big score

In Monochrome (four) 

Posted on by

“Colour just might be the thing, alas black and white is so much more” Gun Roswell


The Bird

Hovering above the world
Wings spread like a big bird
Voice screeching to be heard
Like a flying seagull high in the sky
Soaring, into the grey horizon
There is no one defined reason
Only the thrill of being
In the here and now

Winter in Monochrome (three) 

Posted on by

“Black and white is abstract, agreed for sure, but still something quite tangible?” Gun Roswell


The Fortress

Frost bitten branches and leaves
Above a small dwelling still heave
The wind cold and freezing
Breathing in the throat keeps on wheezing
“This weather, certainly takes your breath away”
Just be careful not too long to stay
Warm mittens and a thick coat
And certainly a woolen scarf for that throat

Winter in Monochrome (two) 

Posted on by

“In the past, life was black and white or at least some kind of greyish colouring scheme?” Gun Roswell


The Forest

Winter continues with all its muster
Snow pouring down, faster and faster
The forest with its trees covered in light
Powdery crystals in the colour of white
A passageway in front quite clear
Do not hesitate or fear
Take a step into the wonder and delight
And soon you have something about to write

Winter in Monochrome (one)

Posted on by

“In the past, life was black and white, right? Just check out the movies!” Gun Roswell


The Tree

Snow covering, all of the land
Just like designed and planned
The Winter’s hand
Lays heavily on each strand
Not one inch de-clutched
Not one place untouched
Nature has made its mark
With a white noiseless bark