Sailing, into the blue wide open, to cure, all, of my ailing blues, failing, no matter how far I am sailing, now only to be continued, in the total blue, as it is eternal, for us, chosen few.
The blue wide open
Tag Archives: seaside
Today, is Tuesday
“It’s another day of the week, naturally!” Gun Roswell
Today, is Tuesday
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!)
A view towards the seashore
“Standing at the end of a very long pier, looking at the land where all them houses stand, yep, far too many of them there be and then, I flee to the sea!“ Gun Roswell
A view towards the seashore
When out there, to the great open sea, on a small vessel I flee, feeling totally free, nothing but the calming wind and the warming sun surrounding me. No constricting walls or even windows there to protect, but this does not have any kind of an affect as I am still well protected by these elements of nature out here. And, even if there is nothing visible or tangible there to see, I know I am quite safe, lulled to the very sensation by these gentle waves. And the longer I here stay, I don’t feel the need to get back to the shore, as looking at all them houses standing there, side by side, crowded, I already start feeling the bore. So, now that I have gotten my taste of this place, where the wide open blue has replaced, the need to stay in a small cocoon of a case, I don’t think I will go back again, rather my life on the road made of liquid spend. Checking out all the new vistas, to get rid of the restlessness inside, as I travel with my small ship on this large ocean quite wide.
Lunch time in the archipelago
“Island life, even in just the memories, it beats this dull city dwelling of a strife” Gun Roswell
Lunch time in the archipelago
Never hurried, simply slow, is the life spent on the island
Having a break when ever it suites, simply widely smiling
Even the time of lunch on the beach without any kind of timing
Is the way to go out here, in the middle of nowhere, in the archipelago
Where people abandoned their watches oh so long ago
As this is a place, time still stays, where no one has to hurry
And all the worldly troubles, were in the deep ditch buried
Life, as we know it, for at least the summer period is to be sent
On this very small island, so far away from it all, making no dents
In anything else, except maybe, in the cookie jar, but then again
You can always bake new ones, if you feel like it, or then just sit
All day long, as the sea shore, on this place, from heavens sent
The Rock, it is called, just for short
“The island life is the dream kind, bringing me a smile, each time, I see the pictures” Gun Roswell
The Rock, it is called, just for short
The harsh rock solid unforgiving ground, every which where can be found
On the small thatch of a land, which solemnly out there stands
In the middle of the sometimes blue and other times ruthless ocean
Where the rough weather and barren nature is part of the potion
Of that which is the dream life for a few adventurous dare devils
Living their lives out there where no one, but only a few seagulls
Land on the dreamy and soft sands of the beaches non existing
As hidden away is this exotic and praised paradise from prying eyes
Protecting those lonely dwellers dedicated to the strange but appealing life
On the island of some kind of fantasy with the good kind of strife
The seat and the snow
“Take a seat, in the middle of the snowy scenery” Gun Roswell
The seat and the snow
The white and crispy clean snow, beckoned to venture outside, to the seashore, even with the hard wind blowing. But the sun was shining so brightly and the glittering slopes, or rather huge piles of the same stuff, were perfect for any kind of wintry activities. So, picking up a pair of old school skis and a kind of a rusted and somewhat busted sleigh, and then, out the door was this eager snow loving persons way, and in the open wide wild nature to stay, as this was a perfect of days for such fun activities.
Then after so many hours, which in all honesty were just like thirty minutes or so, the sings of exhaustion started pulling towards some kind of respite for a moment to stay. As the overall physical condition were not really equipped for such a sudden outburst, where sweat and pumping heart was part of the equation. Spotting the best place in the park, and like an x marked red bench, was waiting for this tired old ass, to take a load off. And the scenery, wasn’t too bad either, as it was the best spot to spy on all the others, having their wintery fun too, on this Sunday, somewhat overdue.
Grey clouds over the lake
“Even if it was hailing and storming or even of a worse fate, I would still make my way to the lake“ Gun Roswell
Grey clouds over the lake
The almighty weather gods, were definitely not, on my very side
On this gloomy day, I had planned to venture, to the open wide
Of the great lake, to possibly, set sail, as it always made me smile
Not because of the sailing itself, even if it was all calming as heck
But the mere feel of the wind on my back and the sun on my face
The freedom of going anywhere else, or then just staying in place
What ever it was to be said, about the waters cool, calming effect
Today, it did not seem to be meant, for me at least, as a big dent
In a form of a weather front, with the biggest of hugs and puffs
As the winds were picking up, howling, and bringing up a gust
Never seen on the side of this lake, or even on the dry of the land
Clearly, it was no made up effect fake, but as I had already planned
To spend the time, here outside, I would not let any kind of weather
Keep me off of my pleasure of a leisure time, down by the lake side
Rain or shine, or even pouring, cats and dogs hailing, I would not care
As this was my time, and what ever happened, I would enjoy myself
Snow on the water!
“Not smoke or fire, but pure snow, on the water!“ Gun Roswell
Snow on the water!
It looked like a field of sorts, with an island in the middle of it all. It could have been used for crops or even potatoes, which were already harvested, before the snow fall. But, it wasn’t that, no, this, used to be an open sea, with boats coming and going, and someone even did, some waterskiing here. But now, that snow, had covered it all, even if the fall time, had seemed so warm. Then, one night, it all froze over, in an instant almost, and as the flakes well, day after day after day, soon enough, nothing but the white stuff, could be seen for miles on end. But not all was lost, after all, you could still go out there on the ice and walk. Or, if you were daring enough, maybe put some skates on and do a little pirouette. After all, this was the season, of winter, and usually, snow would fall and the water would freeze during below zero temperatures. And this was, the lure, of a scenic wintry moment by the seaside with snow on the water.
Seated by the seashore in the sunshine with some corn
“Take a load off on the sunny side of the winter’s storm” Gun Roswell
Seated by the seashore in the sunshine with some corn
The afternoon sun, reflected off of the freshly fallen snow, now covering the frozen waterscape. A solemn bench still remained by the seashore sat, as if waiting for someone to take a load off a spend a moment to escape, especially, on such a fine day. Alas the streets were quite empty, not really sure as to what that had prompted, as not one single passer-by was anywhere to find, even if the sunshine, should have tempted everyone out and about for a stroll or a simple fresh breath to allow. Hours passed again, the sun ready to set in, for the night ahead, but still, a few rays dared to peel through and then, one creature courageous enough, had come out and was now, seated, on the very bench, in the sunshine still at reach, snacking on his big acorn, delighted to do it in some peace and quiet as usually, finding such spot, would instantly cause a riot. But today, he got some alone time, surely rare, in the big city, open wide.
Waters Edge, on a Sunny Day
“As the elements of nature you see, water, might just be, the most fun of them, in my opinion” Gun Roswell
Waters Edge, on a Sunny Day
The calming and totally inviting cool blue hues reflected, across the palette of each and every single surface
Beckoned, this, very weary, disbelieved traveller, whom itself had neglected, to take a break without disturbance
The empty banks, which the beginning of the seaside flanked, were a canvas for the imagination now blank
There was no hurry or worry, to do anything else, but to sit down on to the swells, where the rocky terrain dwelled
Then letting the thoughts fly, towards the eternal skies, carrying them off to others spheres up there, high
After all, this time alone, was removed from the continuum, the moment frozen, from any of the other dozen
This, it was the perfect place, to let go any and all hesitate, and simply be, and the surroundings to see
As nothing else really mattered now, only the scenic picture in front and how, special the feeling of simply here being
Amongst the elements, the water, the land, the sky and never asking the why, because this, was the perfect life
Rantings Of A Third Kind 