The rose painted

“The rose might the thorny, but it’s still quite pretty, and when painted in the colours of many, what is there to complain about?“ Gun Roswell

The rose painted

The rose, with its stem filled with spiky thorns, easily the sensitive skin got torn, with one simple touch, followed by a loud ‘ouch!’ Followed by too much blood, it was too painful to even watch.

Luckily, and aid was found, in the form of an bandaid, which really was nothing to fuss about, even the one whom so loudly did shout, was left embarrassed at best, for doing such a stupid thing in the first place.

A rose, is a gorgeous creature, one created by Mother Nature, not to be touched and fondled, but only from a far admired, and so, thorns or not, the simple message here is; do not touch!

Try another approach, while seated on the porch, perhaps a canvas bring forth, with colours of plenty it is time to start painting, making the memory, of the rose, in a perfect pose, before it will be gone.

The skyline surreal 

“Taking a trip to a place, way, way off the grid, a pretty city in the surreal timeline, well, of sorts” Gun Roswell 

The skyline surreal 

The distorted vision greeting me, as I step through the gate to great unknown, the city in the distant horizon once looming, now revealed to me in its full bloom, a place out of time and space, which never quite the same stays, is now right in front of me, for me to a tour of it to do.

It was not an accident that made me wander to this place, but more of an act deliberate I popped in to all these views, as you see, I once dreamed of this magnificent skyline of sorts, and knowingly the entrance then for quite the while sought, and finding it me to this city now brought.

It might be just a simple dream I am still in, a vision quest of sorts, having me visiting a vista a totally adore, and being truthful I may just be cozily in my own bed with a snore, but nevertheless, this image I am now in was totally worth whatever the cost and so, I keep on going deeper and further inside of it all, taking it all in, no matter if I am a wake or simply in a state of dreaming.

Grey Cat

“Celebrate the day of the cat, on a Saturday at that, but then again, every day, is Caturday for me” Gun Roswell

Grey Cat

The suave and sophisticated, completely, grey coated cat
Was on her way towards the marketplace, with a slow scat
She was the queen of her street, this busy, oneway leap
But no matter how short or tall, this was her domain, after all

Greeting each and every passer by, with a loud and proud meow
Getting patted along the way, even some treats, on the play
When the afternoon clock finally beckoned, she was there reckoning
To catch some fresh fish, from the sellers giving her the dish

Why, you may ask, was this grey coated cat, so completely sure
Well, her main goal, may not have been as pristine and pure
But, keeping all the mice and other crawly critters at bay
Was her job now, so knowing that, she fully accepted her pay

She trotted down, keeping an eye on the eternal crowds
And when spotting a shop with those smelly types of crops
She was noticed and royally rewarded, for all the hard work
As no rodent was insight, and that brought forth big smiles

The shop owners of the small village, were for ever grateful
Of this small and furry feline, always on the hunt and prowl
Keeping their habitat completely pleasant and germ free
And she only demanding, such a small and easy to pay fee

A moped ride in the world wide

“A red bike, on the street side… just hop on, and take a ride! “ Gun Roswell

A moped ride in the world wide

The red, and totally busted ride
Was waiting, by the very side
I knew from before, and I might
Just have out, a very loud sigh
Because no way, was this fine
Taking out, this archaic bike!

But, approaching the land
Where the old bike would usually stand
By an old, and very solid oak door
It was then, I noticed, something quite odd
As if just taken out of a store
It stood there, with so much flare
All over, it was spicked and spanned
Even, the silvery and shiny handles can
Be more gorgeous than
As before the metal, no longer rusted
But everything shiny and dusted
The gas tank filled with go juice
There really was nothing to loose
With this fine ride, of the day
Only one thing, still remained
Putting on, the helmet and boots
The leathery outfit, also to choose
Then hopping on this, very fine steed
And out into the busy streets, it to lead

As I am now riding down the roads
Remembering something, from before
“There really is no better way”, was I earlier told
By someone, certain and so bold
And I am finally agreeing to it now, with a huge, big smile
When I am taking this ride, to the world open wide

The memory of the beach

“The beach, of the summer long ago, still fresh, in my memory“ Gun Roswell

The memory of the beach

It was so long ago, so I have to think about it, really, really slow
The memory though, still fresh in my mind, as if permanently there, intertwined
It was such a fulfilling place, the one, where the summers were laid
In perfect harmony with time itself, without running around, like a slave
The beaches sandy and soft, the water the calmest and blue
The sun always shining, but most importantly, no one was ever whining
Of this place, being anything, but perfect as on that beach they played
Sports, of all sorts, swimming until your arms would tire out
And when it was time for a break, some sustenance and drinks, someone would shout
“Come one to the table! The food is getting cold! Hurry up!”
All of us, sprinted out and ran, like the fire was there under our cans
Spending the days on end, on that sandy and sunny beach
Until it was that time of the day, when the sun could no longer reach
Only displaying a magnificent setting, as its rays in various colours kept on slaying
The moonrise only a match, with the stars hitting the skies above
Then at bedtime, dreaming of yet another day on that perfect seaside
Yes, those where the days, where we all so had our eyes so totally wide
Now, I can only reminisce, about the days gone by, but, with a soft smile

Winter Flashback (3)

“It’s snowing, in May!” Gun Roswell

Winter Flashback

Winter Blues

I am again singing
The words just wining
As I go along
Hoping, wishing
That a very strong
Summer will appear
As I feel it was so near
Only to be taken away
Pushing me into dismay
Snow all over the place
Just hoping it long does not stay
For I was ready
For going steady
With a feeling of warmth
Long into the summer
But not it is all gone
In a wave of the wand
By the weather gods
What the fuck is wrong?
It is already May!
For god’s sake!

Winter Flashback (2)

“It’s snowing, in May!” Gun Roswell

Winter Flashback

Behind the trees

Behind the trees
I can clearly see
A tiny cottage peaking
From behind the snow seeking
Someone to rent it
For the summertime legit
Even though it may appear
That May is here
But the snowy scenery
Tells a completely different story
But not to worry
The forecast is strong
All though it might be wrong
But the promise of spring
And summer to follow
Do you really think
It’s just a wish so hollow
You dare not frolic
Like it’s warm and sunny
Ain’t nothing funny
Running in shorts and flip flops
As even the hare hops
Over the spring of spring!

Winter Flashback (1)

“It’s snowing, in May!” Gun Roswell

Winter Flashback

On the snowy tracks

The sun on my warming back
As I walk in someone else’s tracks
Through the icy winds of winter
Even though it’s springtime
As the snow returned with a vengeance
Making its final stance
Before melting away before summer
Leaving us all feeling the bummer
In our flip flops and shorts
But I also take my stand and snort
Hell has frozen over
But I can still see the clovers
Sunshine and blue skies
Even the tiniest of birds fly
As it is the month of May
And soon, the warm weather is here to stay
(Until July, when we most likely get another bout of snow!)

Blue moon

Posted in Haiku

“Today I am feeling so blue” Gun Roswell

Blue moon

The skies are blue as
Is the mind of a traveler, sitting
Wing side of a plane

Destination unknown, the dreamer looks
Outside the small window, the stars are
Dotting the pale night sky

What ever waits on the
Other side is just a guess, an
Adventure, but for now, content

To look at the soothing
Skies, before the sun rise, it all
Seems calm, before the storm

A seat in black and white I three

Posted in Seat Sunday

“So many seats to choose from” Gun Roswell

A seat in black and white

A hard wooden seat
Can be a real treat
When lost in a land
You really don’t understand
It may be uncomfortable
But still very affordable
Sitting free
In the bushes under a tree
Or by the ocean
Under the cooling breeze