“Shoes are like Chocolate, there is always room for more, right!” Gun Roswell
Ode to my Red Red Shoes
Put on your shiny red shoes
Forget the weekly blues
Listen to your party muse
Time for some new news
On this joyous of all days
On this fantastic Shoe-of-a-day!
“It’s Monday again, Mundane Monday, yeah that one!” Gun Roswell
Mundane Monday, Once Again
No matter if you are travelling or at home There is always something mundane going on During the first day of the week You might not always really find what you seek But look around what the world of mundane will bring You may be surprised of the same old things Look so much different depending of the mood or light Some of them coming finally to life There is art where you least expect it to be adored Just grab your camera and a new attitude and go to explore It may be Monday, that one specific day We all love so much to hate, well, at least of it debate Just call it the beginning of an interesting week to enjoy Because Friday will get here sooner than you have time to shout: “Ahoy!”
“Sundays, yes, those the fun days” Gun Roswell
Sundays filled with sun
Smell the roses, won’t you When you walk out side Pop into a garden, filled with the Colours of nature, trees, flowers
Everything you can imagine just For the visual pleasures of us all Stroll around, see the marvels
Sit on the bench, inhale All the fragrants, your nose could ever Have imagined, feeling peaceful, watching
The butterflies, birds and bees Busy at work, gathering their sustenance, but Your task, is to relax And there is really nothing wrong with that
“There be cats here!” Gun Roswell
Nonchalant
I don’t care If you sit there and stare I don’t so really care as my time has no spare I don’t Tory not care I know I got the special flare I don’t for a moment care For I am more important, than anyone else out there As I am a cat, a cat with a daring stare
“Everything is good just as lone as it is made of chocolate, right?” Gun Roswell
My Little Piece, of Chocolate Heaven
There is just
something about you
I am in lust
And only for you
I am finding it impossible
to stay away
Highly improbable
Anything would keep me at bay
I lost you
Luckily
I found you
My little bit of Heaven
By sweet sweet
I am up to seven
My one and only treat
My sweet chocolate bar
In a serial package
You didn’t venture too far
When I was tracking
“There is something about the open sea, when in a boat, out there in the open wide, even if it is a simple dingy of a vessel, it is fine, as it is so totally freeing simply letting the waves lull you, to some place far away…” Gun Roswell
Boats, and similar vessels can take you there, somewhere
The calm of the sea, the colour, the texture, the all, I wish I could just flee, in a boat, no matter the size or the contents, just as long as it moves, slow or fast, is fine as I can just get out there, to the open, wild waves, carrying me everywhere and anywhere, forgetting my past, even if that fact will only for a moment last, being one with the ocean of the world, to be gently hurled until it is time to come back and face the slack I may have caused while on the shore, as oh life, what a total bore, you can be, sometimes and the only good options seems to be, the wide open sea.
“The other one is taller than the smaller one, but they do support each other very well” Gun Roswell
Tall against the blue skies, with a touch of red on the side
The tall lighthouse was sticking out, from the bed rock from which it firmly sprouts. Ever so gorgeous and made from solid rock, seemingly, nothing it could stop, from reaching towards the blue open and wide skies, singing many a song of all that which is divine.
But, the truth was, that the tall one could not survive without, being tethered with its small side kick of a tiny wooden shack, painted in red, dangerously so, as even seemingly making it only in tow of the tall handsome structure, the smaller one was, the stronger one of the two, never swaying in the wind, even if it could never sing the beautiful notes to reach for the skies.
“Looks pretty, the outside with sunshine, snow and freezing temperatures, at least when stalking it from the warm inside“ Gun Roswell
Early morning hours
It looked really cool, the sunshine and the blue
Reflected off the snow, in all the colours hues
The sunshine, totally awesome and sublime
Combined, the wintry scene storybook divine…
Alas, when checking what is the outside temperature
Today, well below the degrees of zero, way too irregular
To have good enough wardrobe to even make it
Out there without several times changing to fit
What ever nature is about to throw your way on this day
So, the decision, becoming very clear and easy
Rather then into so many restricting layers to squeeze in
Closing quickly the curtains and deciding of staying
Inside in the darkened room, where it is always cozy
As the other option of blinding lights and frozen skin
Is not as attempting at all, as the scene just seen
Through the window wide, but that is all quite fine
As now, I’ve got the nice and scenic picture to dwell on
During those hot summer days when the complain is strong
“I am always there, inside my coffee, weird huh?“ Gun Roswell
Inside my coffee
Inside my coffee I live, love and like
Just the way things are right now; right
Very, very dark and quite strong
Oh, but please,
Really, do not get me all wrong
As sometimes, well, often times actually
The total and utter staleness gets me mad
And then I turn all sour and oh so very sad
But then I remember that one perfect thing
Which is,
That I live inside my coffee and I start to sing
Praises of the liquid
Which I can never get sick with
As I swim around my little pond
Filled with coffee, oh so strong
Too much?
Yes, well, maybe, but I got the luck
As my dwelling, is my stuff of drinking
And even if I sometimes tend to be sinking
Deep, deep into the other end
This is the place, my coffee blend
Where all my time, I so love to spend
“Sparkly things all over the windows, must be freezing weather out there!” Gun Roswell
Icy art covering my windows
The rain filed weather front in the early evening, soon was stalled, as the temperatures suddenly dropped. Quickly and without warning, falling, below zero, to the point of freezing. The droplets earlier landing onto the glass of the windows, thrown all over haphazardly by the raging storm, were now frozen solid, to a unified cover very strong.
But as if I watched them glistening in the early morning sun, the patterns emerged, looking like so much fun. As if an artwork of sorts had been swiftly painted, onto the otherwise dull and see through pane. The various small flakes rearranged into various shapes, so many of them there, it was like they were alive as they kept on the change, until the suns warming heat them slowly but surely melted, away.
Rantings Of A Third Kind 