Black cat sitting on the street corner

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“There is a black cat in the street just sitting there, should I be scared?” Gun Roswell

Black cat sitting on the street corner

There once was a black cat
Whom neatly on the street corner sat
Never moving, never budging
Even if there would be a large truck in
Coming around the bend
He would just sit there and this time spend
On nothing and everything
As the world would turn around him

Why you may ask?

Well you see, this is his one job
The only one suited on this small blue globe
As he is the very watcher of us all
The one black cat, sitting quite tall
And that is why there is no fear for us at all
As he keeps an eye on us, that we will not fall

Window views, with imaginary scenery

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“I don’t think I can ever get tired of the scenery outside my window” Gun Roswell

Window views, with imaginary scenery

The many lands, the foreign vistas, the great unknown and all the open possibilities
For the exploration, to what ever lies outside, these empty and dull suburban streets
Behind the frames of this view, ever changing, but still, mostly, the same remaining
Window with the most perfect view, at least in my mind, leaving me feeling, never, ever blue
As I sit at the sidelines, in my usual comfortable seat and think of the open wide
World, just at reach, at least, in my mind, out there, outside, I cannot help but smile
As I gently lull myself into a dream state lazy, and then travelling to all the places
Wherever my own imagination dares me to carry, smoothly, never in any kind of hurry
Having always the perfect amount of time, to explore, to see, to feel, to live in it all
Even if it is never, well really, quite real, it is still, a trip or sorts, out there
Never leaving the comfort of these walls of my sombre home, still, never really alone
Not at least, when visiting these, far away lands in my mind, for the perfect scenery to find

Splash off the wall in total colour

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“One needs a hint of colour in the midst of all the grey, am I right?” Gun Roswell

Splash off the wall in total colour

The paint brushes swirling left and right, up and down, around and around
As the painter concentrated, with gusto, in the job with a wide upside frown
This case was a happy occasion, refurbishing old houses without hesitation
As the full and plush colours, quickly appeared, onto the dull canvas cleared
Painting, the minds image to a well loved and cared for housing project to reflect
After such a long time having been left in total and utter neglect now being resurrect
Completing the task in minimal time, and the end result turning up more than fine
The bright and bolds, done with what some might say, something of eye sores
As the could now easily be spotted from miles away and then some but never more bores
But hey, who ever said life or in addition, the outer walls, oh an old but new home
Should be, anything, but dull, and so, the artist doing their thing, went on completing
The paint job they had been commissioned to do with a touch of spring

Lunch time in the archipelago

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“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

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“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

Winter sunrise in Suburbia without hurry

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“January, what a cold hearted month thou art!” Gun Roswell

Winter sunrise in Suburbia without hurry

Peekaboo, through, the slight opened shutters, in the early morning hours, finding a nice surprise, in a form, of a pretty sunrise. The light alone blinding, yet somehow reminding, of a start of a new day. As the rays of light, dance on top the now snow covered grounds, which only a few days before, were dulled down with murky waters and total darkness, but, are now reflecting those earliest of rays, off of each and every surface, making a dance of it, with some splits.

With my steaming hot coffee mug beside me, I am admiring the view from the cozy inside, as the temperatures, despite, the sunny disposition in the skies, are still way below freezing your still sleepy derriere off, should you dare to venture to the quite inviting looking outside. But for now, there is no need, as the slow speed, of the winter months, has arrived with a loud thump, and sitting around without any kind of hurry, is a luxury, reserved only, for this special time of January.

Going Fishing Today

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“Fishing? Is that some kind of a new trend? Well, I’m in!“ Gun Roswell

Going Fishing Today

Got my poles, got my lures, got my ensemble of clothing for the chore, and the best part, got my fishing hat. After all, that, is the most important part of the whole plan. Right? Well, it’s not really the catch that counts, rather the time spent, even if it might be borrowed as a well meant break, for what the sake, of just getting out there, in nature by the seashore, because that is never, ever a bore, not for me, for you see, I doo love, the sea.

And after all, the fishies won’t get fooled, by that silly outfit, because they can easily resist, those earth worms squirming at the end of the hook, just one look, and they could comment; “Bargain basement lures, hey, we are not fooled down in this extra large pool, so go and get your feast, somewhere else, please, we will swim along now, so don’t have a cow, literally!”.

Well, maybe not in quite those words, but hey, the message was heard, loud and clear, and for me, personally, I don’t care, as I love sitting in the sun, sipping of my cup, eating my sandwiches in peace and quiet for once and that, is the real lure, pun intended, of this outing, at the seashore, by the end of the pier, where I am enjoying my day off, even if I don’t much score, fish wise. But hey, I have a big smile on my otherwise sour face, thanks to this great place!

Rulers of the galaxy

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“Cats truly are the rulers of the world, well, no, the galaxy” Gun Roswell

Rulers of the galaxy

On guard, it’s their door
The doorway to the world
The world these furry creatures rule
Rule like there is no tomorrow
Tomorrow, which is their future
Future for those furry felines
Felines who will take over
Over the world, the galaxy
The galaxy run my cats?
Cats, yes we consider them pets
Pets to cuddle, to play, to feed
Feed their hunger for world domination
Domination going beyond the world
World now, the galaxy next
Next could be even more than we expect
Expect the universe soon to be run
Run by these creatures we call fun
Fun, but then soon enough we are
Are the slaves for these furry felines
Felines?
Aren’t we that already?

Blue on white, before the night

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“All is still, in the forest, before the fall of the night, at least, on the surface, it seems to be so“
Gun Roswell

Blue on white, before the night

Crispy and crunchy, the frozen flakes on the cold ground sounded, under the small steps
On the path of the searchers, which deep into the snowy white forest before night fall led
It was that time of the eve, where the silence too fell, just a little before the sun would leave
Making way for the moon to rise in the skies, but before that, a stand still on the low and high
A moment of true blue colours surrounding all those, who dared to follow the calls of the wild
Perfectly still, nature turning from white to the coolest of hues, from light blues to darkening night
Staying there until the moment had passed, only then venturing back home in the pale moon light

Ancient mansions

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“They are made of stone, to withstand the testament of time, just wish my house was that fine!” Gun Roswell

Ancient mansions

The ancient builders, hauled around the heavy boulders, just to erect monuments, which would easily surpass the tearing forces of time. Those buildings are still around and standing, some of them just fine while others, might be reduced to piles. But, what ever they were doing, must have been quite right, as still after al the years gone by, with wars and other destruction happening each and every while. We can still see them, all over the world, some of them protected for the herds. But most of all, they are there for us new folk as both a reminder of what humans can accomplish but also, the beautifully detailed architecture to admire.