“Something glowing up there in the skies, something, golden I spy, could it be…???” Gun Roswell
The windows reflecting the light As the afternoon’s sun is still bright Colouring all the surfaces with gold hue Completely irradiating the feeling of blue A lyrical moment for the mundane grey The feeling of dull quickly fading away As the tall towers and the low windows Make us believe in fairy tales and wonders Our city now the golden one Before the illusion comes undone And we are back to the mundane vision Of dull surfaces needing revision
“Take a seat in the sun, lift your face towards the rays, it’s a holiday after all!” Gun Roswell
Moving ever forward Just looking for a seat I found one, made of wood Maybe it wasn’t hard Rather suitably good Too soft for a fit But yeah, I chose to sit!
“Just a little help is all you can give to someone in need” Gun Roswell
There was something very interesting definitely there, on the window sill As the two small size cats, kittens really, now on the floor, circled around, at will Trying to get up, with still growing but short legs still, was quite the feat tough And even trying to very hard to hop, hop, hop off of, the very flat ground It seemed impossible to get up there, where something great was to be found But neither of them succeeding, on their own, so what to do now, they frowned Then a thought, came to the others mind, maybe working together was fine Even if they both competed with each other for every single little thing in kind But this time, maybe it was enough, if one of them reached on the very top And then the other would know too, what it was so interesting up and out there Which was intruding their very own domain, and threatening, just of the same And then the smaller one pushed the bigger one, with a huff, on to the very ledge Urging him to seek, search and then, to destroy, what ever it was disturbing their day As the bigger cat got up, he turned back with a huff and a puff, as the only thing Was a small spider, weaving its web while singing, and now already out of reach For the small cat and his friend, whom, so eagerly had for big game tried to seek
“What a total bust!” The striped cat told the black cat, “Just a small spider, alas!”
“Yeah, all for nothing, that huffing and puffing!” The black cat told the striped cat. “But when we tell this story to the others, it was some kind of a big elephant or tiger, which we fought really hard against.” She then added.
“Agreed!” Said the striped cat, “And next time, I will let you be the one to go see.” He stated as the two of the strolled back to the litter, to tell a great story of two hunters, they were, slaying wild game without hesitance or even one flicker.
Friday, at last, this week, could not have gone any faster Faster, as I very well know, will this day end too Too, and then “boohoo” I cry, but hey, that is just fine Fine, as I know, there will be another Friday Friday, which unfortunately only comes, one a week
Week, is such a dreary measure Measure, like a year or even a hundred Hundred, is the number of the percent Percent, which I always give this day Day, unlike so many others consists of hope Hope, so hard to find these days Days, gone by, but hopefully plenty ahead Ahead, like the word hope, wish, what ever Ever, I wish Friday here to stay Stay, please stay, I totally pray Pray, like you are a deity or something so great Great, better than anything else Else, is where I usually am Am, exist, being, living, solely for Friday Friday, oh how I love you You, this, feeling which you can only bring Bring little ol’ me, each and every week Week, oh, were are back to this again Again, and in circles I run until Until I come to the end of this poem Poem, so yeah, guess I have a thing for Fridays then!
“Something about travelling and not on a Monday?” Gun Roswell
The days come along one by one (usually the way they do) It’s almost like singing a song (verse by verse moving along) Today it’s Tuesday, when only yesterday it was Sunday (that’s how I recall it) And now, it’s getting late, no matter how I hesitate, tomorrow will be here, I can feel it near (What do you know: It’s Wednesday and midweek, what a geek!)
Guess I need to stop worrying about Mondays anyway (Oh, did you worry before? Did not know that…) Since the days keep on changing without my aid (Yeah, need a time machine for that!) Why worry about some day, when there is always the next day (True, do like the Spanish do, manana!) So, on this day of …ahem, Tuesday, I swear, not to worry about another damned day!!! (Liar! You know this promise or what ever is as good as the up and down going fever! You will never keep it, trust me, I know shit!)
Bring it on Tuesday, Wednesday and even Friday (Don’t forget Monday and something else!) Every day, from this day on is my day (note to writer, how many times can you get away with the word “day”?) I will start appreciating the here and now (Yeah, really! Like to see that) And then, if not, nobody have a cow! (We already did! It’s there in the backyard!)
“The Monday, the one day, that can easily be spent, in the colour of Monochrome“ Gun Roswell
The Monday mood, in grey as per usual, spending time, under the doorway open wide, an archway they say, as past most of them sway, clearly, the news, of this day, today, being a Monday, has not reach their busy minds, but here, regular like clockwork, the chime indicated, it was that time, the start for a week, for those whom something new seek, but the grey overtones, make the day rather bleak, and so, hiding under the archway, is the best bet at least.
But there is beauty in the monochromatic world too, even as seen from below an obstructed view with some kind of a Monday hating attitude, as the vivid shades of greys keep chaining with the time of the day, the lighting, the shadows and all the other whatnots, but most of all, hiding under the way of arching rock, ain’t too bad after the initial shock, as it will be only for the one day, the day of the week, nobody really admits, is the crappiest of them all, but hey, stay low, as tomorrow, will be another Tuesday again.
Camouflage Now you see me Now you don’t I am completely Disappearing from sight I am the shadow I am the whisper Well, maybe just my whisker Can you see me Now? Disappearing into the crowd?
Rantings Of A Third Kind 