“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
“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
“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
“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
“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
“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
Rantings Of A Third Kind 