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!

Fly on the wall

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“Just hanging, listening, observing, checking things out” Gun Roswell

Fly on the wall

I, am a small fly, sitting on the wall
Wall, which from I won’t totally fall
Fall, would be a terrible thing
Thing, as if I would be killed
Killed, to the very death!

I am but a fly on this wall
Wall, observing everything
Everything, and nothing
Nothing, as today’s such a bore
Bore, because I have no sugar!

Ah, sugar, the essence of life
Life, this tiny little fly’s treat
Treat, as in a sugary snack
Snack, as without it I would slack
Slack, well, yes, you know, lazy!

I basically don’t do much
Much, as humans consider such
Such, is the life of a fly
Fly, but now, I really have to fly
So, bye bye!

Red ride

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“Ah, to own a red two wheeled ride, of any kind” Gun Roswell

Red ride

There she was, parked at the curve
Waiting for the owner soon to return
As I laid my eyes on to her
All I really wanted to take a ride in turn
As I stood there staring
At the shiny red metal glaring
I swear I could see her flaring
Beckoning for me to a daring
Trip on the road side
An adventure on the wild side
An opportunity once in a lifetime
Knowing full well I could not deny
And before I even realized
I was hopping on the ride
Off and on the world
Little red and me were hurled
Having the time of my life
On this red bike so naughtily wild

Balcony Life

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“Summer and hot weather: Open the windows and doors!” Gun Roswell

Balcony Life

When the midsummer weather hits
Hits so hard, you cannot even sit
Sit, in one place or another without breaking
Breaking a sweat so huge you cannot wait
Wait, until the draft from all the opened
Opened doors and windows start to blow
Blow, so hard you can feel it in your bones
Bones, still sore from the freezing winter’s cold
Cold, you now yearn for at this time of year
Year, when you thought the warmth and weather would be clear
Clear, to spend all your time outside
Outside, in the nature so open and wild
Wild, but that is not in your own nature
Nature, ever changing for you and outside
Outside, where you wanted to stay for a while
While, but then a thought occurred
Occurred, in a flash of light
Light, which is plenty full outside
Outside, is where you really want to be
Be, but still in a very cool breeze
Breeze, and then, be able to breathe
Breathe in the warmth and openness of summer
Summer, you waited for so long for
For now, take a seat, a table and some drinks
Drinks, to keep you cool inside
Inside, is certainly not where you want to be
Be, outside, but high up, and then, it was so clear
Clear, as the skies out there
There, is the place where I can finally be
Be cool and, enjoy summer, to the most
Most, as I now sit on the chair in my balcony!

Sunny Side Up

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“Basking in the sun, lazily in this chair, when supposed to be, going to do some shopping” Gun Roswell

Sunny Side Up

When broken and tired of all the running around
So many shops and still, nothing to be found
The weather scorching, as is the heat
How I wish you could find one empty seat

Luckily or unluckily, the one to be seen
Is smack in the middle of a sunny type scene
The place so bright even the colours are fading
But since they are the only ones left, I will stop complaining

Hopping on to the cushions so inviting
Trying hard to ignore the offers quite exiting
But I feel still so totally spent
Not even those cute little things in the window will up me get

Panting finally subsiding
I am turning my face towards the sun so shining
Letting the rays of sun soak my sweat
I know, it sounds awful, but better than being drenched

After the moment has past and I feel lighter
I watch though the shop windows and get delighted
I can see something really nice i have for long wanted
And then, with a new spring in my step, I am inside invited

I shop and shop and shop until I drop
Then with all the bags accumulated for a moment I stop
Gazing at the still empty seat so comfortable
I know I need to sit down, before I continue my way home