“The seasonal harvest, is finally at hand, and well, it wasn’t really anything planned, but I am going to pick me some, that’ll be fun!“ Gun Roswell
Berries, certainly, on the very top
See, the beautiful blue, black, yellow, green, but mostly red Which are, oh so gorgeous, berries, and tasty as, well, hell So, not really any kind of sense in, them completely wasting Do, pick up, a few, or more, of them buckets and go chasing Those, absolutely juiciest and sweet tidbits of the mother nature And then climbing up that tall ladder, and what, an adventure! Really, just do your best ever(so far) thing before that winter And, maybe earn in the process, a few of them ouch-y splinters But, really, the main point, of this, totally silly and very little ditty Is certainly not to do, a lot of any kind of, self serving type pity Rather, for you, yes, you, to get up, go, to the very outside And, finally, to absolutely enjoy the garden, one more time Maybe, even pick up a few of those berries here mentioned Before, the cold hearted winter snow makes its intervention
“Watching the skies, for what ever up there, might just fly by; birds, dinosaurs, airplanes, ufos, they really are all, quite interesting“ Gun Roswell
Autumn and the nightfall
The skies started, to slowly turn, from a plain and dull grey With the appearance, of some, quite unexpected lights of rays As it was such a pleasant surprise, and thus saving, the day
It was after all, close, to the days end, and the night fall Where the time, for a blink, of an eye of a moment, stalls And all of us mere mortals down here, standing, ever, so small Awaiting, for that one spectacle, promised, since early morn’
Good things come to those, who dare to wait in line And, as keeping on gazing up, into the deep and darkening skies What do these tired and old vision goggles finally, do spy But a gorgeous painting, forming, right there, before the very eyes
As the performance of the clouds, lights and stars, high in the skies Begin their nightly dance, with a slow pace, almost a state of trance Before all of us small beings, who consider themselves, devoted fans
“The seat on the sunny side, usually beckons to sit down, even, if you are not tired” Gun Roswell
Midday sun, Seated, no energy to run
The midday sun, high up, in the cloud free and cool blue, afternoon sky Was burning the skins, of all and anyone, daring, to venture, outside Without at least, a full and total coverage, of some kind of defensive clothing Even if it means, constantly pouring sweat and uncomfortable moaning
So, for now, walking down the streets, looking, for something, totally sweet First, the pace was fast, then more and more slowly, because, of the heat Thinking, that then again, the hot weather, might not just be the very best Time of eating any type of candy or cake, or anything sugary to say the least
Even hot coffee, at breakfast in the morning, seemed more, like a chore Luckily for this, very weary traveller, some genius, had invented a more Appealing version of the dark liquid, fancily, called frappe, so basically, a latte But only in a state of very cold and calming, poured in a tall kind of glass-e
Alas, soon enough, all thoughts of any kind of food or anything else to eat Was pulled out of the mind, as that totally consuming, sweat pouring heat Started to get the best of this, supposed explorer of all kinds of things great And then, the slowing down of the feet, so telling, it was, time, for a break
Suddenly, without any kind of warning, the sun, still terribly scorning Sent out a ray (or multiple rays) of light, shining, on to something alluring A bench, appeared, from the middle of nowhere, and placed, just in front The road to the beach front, sitting there, as it was waiting for this runt
And to top it all, seeing, a bottle, of something cooling inside, laid there Just like it had been dropped especially by order, somehow, knowing, I swear It was still ice cold, sizzling there, when I dared to step closer and touch it And then, when I was sure, it was real, I gently, and slowly, down sat, I did
Oh, what a total relief, I sighed, in utter bliss Even if the touch of the bottle, made a slight hiss Of a sound to the very warm, nay, hot air But then again, I really, did not have time to care
Because this bench and water had me The weary, tired traveller out in the heat So completely, with one simple seating Saved, and thank you so much indeed!
“There is something odd about a person, who just sits by the computer all day long, sometimes, even the night and types in words to an empty page, yup, definitely very odd indeed, and that person, is me” Gun Roswell
I write, all the time
I write I write I write I write and I totally write Just, because, I really don’t have any life Therefore, it seems,I have all, of the time In the world reserved for me, simply, to write
My day job, that once I loved, does not much count These days, I simply do, the needed amount My family, yeah, I have it, at least some kind of bunch But they never really cared for me, that much
So I keep on writing, slowly and surely emerging Deep, in to the many worlds, I am now creating They seem so much better for me, better for all At least, inside my own head, I am having a ball
But when, I sometimes come out, to the real world I look around and see, that time surely has turned And I am now, an outsider, standing there, observing Never really participating, and inevitably, learning
That I, was left behind, so to the others, to be kind I return, to my darkened room, stand, beside my desk For me, there is no time, to stop and take a simple rest Rather, I keep on writing, as it’s really the only thing
I am capable of doing anymore, because I can’t think: I open a new page, a blank one, and start the one Thing I am friends with, and the words are pouring Now, like never before, because I am, always writing
“There is always room, for one more cat in the litter, even if it gets a tad hairy sometimes” Gun Roswell
Step up Cat
Up the stairs, the tabby cat stepped Gingerly, without hesitation, it self let Inside the house, with smells of good Yes, it was, definitely, after the food
But the soft purring and determination Brought this tiny cat to the elevation Of a needed being inside the dwelling And so, without screaming and yelling
The tabby cat, who had landed a pad With much snacks and all them pats It could possibly ever needed in nine Times of life it still had, and that was a fact
“Everything scares me, always, even the number 13 and Fridays too, then again, all days scare me: I am a regular scary cat!” Gun Roswell
It is, once again, Friday, the 13th
It was, once again, really dark But then again, it was always dark At least, as far As I have that known Deep, deep down, within my heart
The totally scary thoughts I had always known, without a doubt And with a full facial pout I grabbed a hold of the shout But the inevitable was lurking around
It really, did not help That it was Friday, the thirteenth Who was knocking now, at my door Slowly, but surely, turning me, to the bore Of one… Mrs Hide
And then, the worst happened The warnings signs, unwrapping A great big red flash of light It was useless to more fight The change was upon me… a smile?
“Chip, chip, cheerios, everyone! What a lovely day, in the sun! Hey, you want to go out To sing and dance and shout? It’s such a lovely day On this thirteenth of a Friday! So let’s all get together And smile and laugh and what ever I just love to be so darn happy Cannot bother to be snappy Because life is really too good On this day of 13th mood! “
“As the moon lit up the dark night skies, and I could finally walk without stumbling on the narrow path“ Gun Roswell
Reaching for the moon from the tallest tree top
The full moon, hovered, high above all, in the dark night sky It was so brightly lit, that it totally looked, like a shiny ball of a light Alluring and completely inviting, as it was, with all of its luminescence I was so tempted, to catch it, and the only option for me presented Was, to climb up, really high, and up the tallest of the trees in sight And then, if luck would have it, I could ever so easily reach out And simply, capture, the brightly lit ball, in to, my very own pouch But also knowing very well, this trip, would not be without an ouch
Finally, daring, with some hesitation, to venture up the sturdy tree trunk I knew then and there, that the option, of this very mission, to totally flunk Was not an option at all, rather a the commissioned order, ever so tall And that was, to capture the mighty and bright moon, once and for all Alas, the forces that be, were definitely, not on the side of little ol’ me As the higher I climbed the tall tree, the more out of reach the moon seemed to be In the end, I reached the very top, and as I dared to gaze up The moon, was higher than even before and no matter what
I was not able, to even reach it So, that, in essence, was simply it! Remaining only, a tall tale of an endeavour With the completion time set, to never
“There is nothing magical to the number of three” Some one supposedly wise, once told me But, here is the thing you see, where I so totally, disagree
For a fact, I myself, do know this one simple rule That good things, or even nice once, come in three for sure Whether it be, a special on chocolate bars at the store that rule
Or a good series of books and even, the holiday time in weeks Three, is totally the number that you want to seek And if for that advice, you want to call me a total geek
Then, so be it, because, well, I simply love, the perfect number three Maybe, you will too, if you just, take a chance and let yourself it feel The enlightenment, which this then follows, well, may or may not set you free
But what ever you believe, hear, see, or even do You so have the power, to do the do and choose The perfectly rounded and open hearted glue
Yeah, you guessed it, it is so, the number of them all The belle of the proverbial and even true ball Number of three, it has the world and even more!
“I am so damned tired, but I am trying, to stay awake despite of it“ Gun Roswell
Sleep, is so overrated
I wish, oh how I so truly wish, I could sleep, like some of the more exotic fish In perpetual motion, never, ever giving up, on the good kind of commotion Or then at least, like the famous Nikola Tesla, with only two hours, of daily sleep And then I could be, totally inventive and oh so creative, the rest of the time Because, or despite of being tired or even sick or simply surviving, off the grind But, then again, it still seems, that even, if I could less time on rest spend I would have difficulties, for all the great things I would want to do, to lend Even if all the precious time in the world, onto my waiting lap would be hurled
So, why, oh why, I am complaining again, you may me ask? Can’t I just simply, strip down some or more, off the planned tasks? The simple answer to that question, or then again, it is really not Could just be, that, I am, in all honesty, afraid, that if, I would ever stop I would never be able, to start over, again And then, on what, would I my time then spend?
“Hiding, my face and my self, from the bright sun, under the sheltering parasol“ Gun Roswell
Under cover, under the parasol, under the sun
From the deepest recesses, of this, these days virtual travellers own mind Thinking of, all of the warm summers passed, and always with a big smile When lying, on the sandy beach, everything off, completely, out of reach Only thinking of, what and then when would be the time for the next eat Alas, not everything around and under this scorching sun is a total slack As swimming, walking, writing and reading, is part of each days list of tasks But the one thing, even enough sun block can win, is the one simple fact That too much sun, can give a dweller out and about each day an attach Of the said sun and that cannot be too much fun, so best bet to do to avoid The trauma causing the traveller to get annoyed, is to stay, under the parasol Greatly protecting any harmful rays of the on top hovering bright ball, the sol Besides, there are lots of things to do there, without the need to squint the eyes Board games, books, and maybe, even the odd iPad to track, some of the lives Left behind in the homeland, as the traveller, is on a holiday, for the duration And, if and when asked, they would simply answer without any kind of hesitation “I have earned this leave, and will stay here, until I totally need to leave!”
Rantings Of A Third Kind 