Cottage in three

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“Summer fun in so many cottages, it’s getting to a point of annoying really! ” Gun Roswell

Cottage in three

Red, yellow, any other colour, or maybe even painted black
The choices for living, really do not lack
Going around and around, never once looking back
As one, after the other, is so much better, than the last
But, for only one week at the time
Spending, my vacation, nearly, on a dime
Even the weather, is ever so fine


And I surely have no complaints, of all these cottages, oh so divine
Juggling amongst these places, some near, some far
Luckily my rucksack is not weighing, so need for a car
Summer still well spent, even if it wasn’t exactly like I had dreamt
But the experience given me so much more
I can go back to the daily grind without immediately being bored
After all, adventure is part of human nature, with or without fear
And this year, I certainly got plenty for the rest of the year

Summer’s seat

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“In the tiny garden I sit, until there is snow on the ground” Gun Roswell

Summer’s seat

When the first rays of the summer’s sun appeared
I knew immediately, I could sprint outside without fear
The bright white light burning my retinas at first
But, then I picked up my old fashion shades from dirt
Left them forgotten, discarded under a pile of dust
All through the winter months, since darkness, was a must
Noted the greening and growing grass under my bare feet
The blue skies and the flowers, yeah, I am truly glad to see
Spotting the tiny seat in the corner of the garden so small
Where it had been sitting all along, under the piles of snow
I don’t care if it’s splintered and slightly dirty
As long as I can sit in it without feeling angry
Because today is the first the of the summer life starting
This great time, mostly without bad weather and plowing
So I will be sitting here, spinning all kinds of thoughts in my mind
Until the day that the sun sets for good and it is time
To turn back into the winters dark cave
And sleep, the deep sleep, before another summer saves

Summer expectations

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“There is fantasy and then, there is the harsh reality” Gun Roswell

Summer expectations

Waking up to expectations of gorgeous weather in a beautiful place ahead
But the darkness must have been an omen, as what greeted me instead 
An non-coloured greyish scene, with no natural light, anywhere, to be seen

I blinked once, twice, three times, and then pinched myself, just to be sure of what I saw, this utter vile
In front of my sad eyes now laid, instead of all the fine I had just seen, while lying on the bottom of my soft bed

Enough! I finally said

Had it all really been, a good dream, or a figment of my vivid imagination, a total fantasy, I had seen?
Such marvelous things and places, making ones heart really go to the races
All the colours of the rainbow, hardly any winds there to blow, life going, gently, smoothly and, oh so slow

Closing the curtains, feeling a tad on the side of hurting
I decided to go back to my bed, continue dreaming, until this, season of dread
Was finally over

Turning off the bedside lamp, my eyes tight shut clamped
And then, I, was back, in the place, of eternal summer, I had before of dreamt

Fluffy summers day

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“Fluffy are the clouds and so is the mood, on this, hot summers day” Gun Roswell

Fluffy summers day

Sitting. at the end, of a long pier
Looking. at the clouds, as they appear
Changing, their very shapes, as they slowly drift away

The waters surface calm and blue
Perfectly matching, the sky’s hue
Feeling the warmth of the sun on my skin

Nothing moves, nothings stirs in this moment
It seems, as if the clock, has stopped, all movement
The birds and bees at flight, frozen in mid air

As I close my eyes, I still spy
The world around me, feelings of being free
On this warm and fluffy summers day

Sailing to the sunset

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“Sailing, what a wonderful way of weightlessness” Gun Roswell

Sailing to the sunset

Just like in an old school romantic movie
Trying to get things in my life once again grooving
As I am setting sail and off into the horizon disappearing
Never looking back, not giving the sails any slack
With the wind behind me, pushing forward towards the horizon
I am staring at the sun’s last rays before the moon’s arising

In this image so very quaint
The audiences will surely faint
The dark aura, away fading
As I am gently but surely sailing
Towards the eternal sunset

Summer Rama

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“A panoramic view, of the summer’s hue, how quaint!” Gun Roswell

Summer Rama

Sitting, in the perfect of places
Where the sunshine, and the long summer, always, stays
The temperature, always, perfectly warm but then, cool, at the same time
Which in itself, is a contradiction, but for me, it works really fine

My head, spinning and turning, like the exorcist chicks did, almost one three hundred and sixty degrees
Trying to get in, all the lovely scenery, but, at the same time, feel the warmth of the sun and the cooling breeze
A panoramic photograph, finally done ending up, in my own crocked mind
And then, a little while later, on the great wide web, for all the followers to find

Oh, the Summer Rama!
What would I ever do without ya?

Secure Path

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“A secured way to go, just take it slow” Gun Roswell

Secure Path

Completely covered from all sides
The path always narrow, never too wide
Walking ever upwards, towards the goal
But never in a hurry, always taking it slow

The path so secure there is no worries
Of slipping, sliding or even any enemies
But if outside of the borders daring to venture
Then most likely, you’ll be liable for a dent or two

When finally at the end
Take a long, long look back, on the time spent
On this path so secure
You can only, be sure
That nothing, in life, is as good or safe

Summer, summer, where art thou summer?

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“Summer, should be I think, as the calendar says, “July”, but why is it snowing?” Gun Roswell

Summer, summer, where art thou summer?

When the month of July is upon
You start, to really hard, to wonder on
As to where the summer has gone

It did not appear at all this year
And then you already start to fear
As the winter season slowly but surely grows near

It’s not so warm as you might have expected
But if you look close enough, you can something detect
A ray of light, on to the waters edge reflected

Maybe there is still hope after all
Before the coming of a complete fall
Despite the weather so gloomy and dulll
At least it’s not as freezing cold
Even if the weather forecast hail showed
And it’s above the freezing point or so

Summer in the month of July
Sometimes it’s good sometimes, just fine
But there is really no denying:
It could be worse, as we could have snow

Summer Sunday at the Beach

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“A calm, cloudy, and sunny Sunday, what a contradiction indeed!” Gun Roswell

Summer Sunday at the Beach

When the Sunday time, loudly, its present chimed
We ran, like we were on fire, out there, from the dire
Into the open wild nature, with colours so lush
There really was no need for any kind of rush
To enjoy the art work devised by our beloved Mother Nature
Was there for everyone to see, without any kind of fee

But we ran, as fast as any one can, really
For you see, there was somewhere else we wanted to be, really
Beside the calm and cooling waters, fooling around like a bunch of sea otters
We made our way, discarding all clothing, falling where ever they may
Splashing into the soft waves, letting the healing waters save
Ourselves in the process, as this was the place for us, the total bliss

We played and frolicked, until the darkness descended we stayed
Then only, reaching for the softest of sands, lending each other a hand
To find the discarded garments, a little dirty, maybe even sandy, was a mild statement
But nobody cared, as it had all been time so well spent
Out here, on the beach, on this summer’s Sunday we had reached
And if we were to be lucky, maybe next weekend, we could come back again

                   

It’s a Bees Life

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“It looks so cool to be able to fly around all the time” Gun Roswell

It’s a Bees Life

It’s a fun way of life
Life, up in the skies
Skies, so blue it’s almost, untrue
Untrue, as I seem to be
Be, as I am a flying bee

From flower to flower I pop
Pop, and open up each lot
Lot, are there to choose from
From, each and every one
One, or more I drain from

Flying, buzzing, never stopping
Stopping, only for some shopping
Shopping, for the nectar I need
Need, as my queen I will feed
Feed, until she can no more eat

It’s a bees life
Life, without a strife
Strife as the humans see it
It, well, hey shit!
I might get stomped on!