Summer reflected

“Oh summer, come back please!” Gun Roswell

Summer reflected

Through the mirrors of my glasses
I can clearly see as time passes
Visions of all the yesterdays
Within these reflected memories stay

Watching it all like a television show, so fun
My favourite ones, are those spent under the summer’s sun
When everything is warm and light
Even the state of mind without a fight

But lingering too long in the past
Can throw in the present a nasty cast
Looking back with only rose shaded lenses
Not giving a thought to all those paid expenses

Living in the here and now
May sometimes cause a frown
But the before today is gone
Some looking ahead should be done

The best bet would be not to dwell
And with the best hopes of a great future to sell
Live today the best you can
Because in those precious memories it too will land

Sundays I four

Posted in Haiku

“Sundays, yes, those fun days” Gun Roswell


Take a walk long outside 

Seaside, a long stride, up
The hill and down to the beach
Scenery to be seen, with

Just one scene, nature and
Man made structures, side by side
Hard to divide, growing together

Over the years, soon there
Is nothing to separate them, under cover
From prying eyes, but alas

I am here now and
I spy, before it all disappears in
To the background of nature

December lights I two

“December is a month of great expectations” Gun Roswell

December lights 

An angel called, asking, if we seen a pair of wings
You see, when on a drunken binge
When on the stage and trying some karaoke to sing
She had misplaced them after doing a new thing

A split like move, while finding her groove
Mixing the proverbial stew, with something totally new
Just on herself to improve and the audience to prove
An angel could do, much more than anyone knew

December lights I one

“December is a month of great expectations” Gun Roswell

December lights 

The sun setting on this dark eve
And for a while it cannot be seen
Polar nights have taken the skies
As a hostage for a longer while

But even in the darkness
There is something which can impress
The holiday season around the corner
All them lights shining from top to floor


“Feeling the darkness within me” Gun Roswell


The darkness slowly settling in
Like the black feelings within
No sun no moon, no stars
Nothing seen but those endless scars
You might say it’s due to this, special season
But telling that lie would constitute as treason

Compared to this blue ain’t such a bad colour after all
Because, even frozen snowballs, get the blues, in hues
And then, throw in some grey and they’ll throw back some shade,
This certainly ain’t no drive in any slay in any parade
For now, let’s just keep the mood and lips in a frown
Just because, there is this great big excuse, of darkness

But I digress, since life, is always such a big mess
Anyway, so why not embrace, the noir inside and outside, less
Light, can make anything look really good
And I ain’t just talking about food!
If the oddest thing would happen; a spring with colours slapping
In all kinds of mixed odours, then I’ll be prepared

Kinda, but still wearing the noir, backed up by a choir!

X-mas x3 I three

“It’s that time of the season…again!” Gun Roswell

X-mas x3

Mrs Claus

The hardest working woman on the North Pole?
Surely, Mrs Claus wins the title as she plays the role
But who could blame her if even one moment she stole
For herself, taking a break, on this seasonal toll

Working with the red hooded celebrity almost the whole year
Must have some benefits but also plenty of secret fears
Never able to enjoy a solemn vacation, at least, not during this holiday season
But maybe, when Summer starts, this rat race called X-mas, she’ll be able to part

At least for a brief moment
Before X-mas vibes start storming!

X-mas x3 I two

“It’s that time of the season…again!” Gun Roswell

X-mas x3

Santa Claus

The long awaited guest for all the families in all the homes
With a reindeer town sleigh ride, promptly, each year, comes
The jolly fat old dude, who is never ever rude
Some might say, he’s afraid of getting sued!

Alas, down the chimney, or even through the conventional door
The presents under the tree soon for every single soul will pour
Dressed in a red suit, seeing him is surely a hoot
But you’ll never see him at his own horn to toot

Anyways, it’s that time of the season
When even a child’s fantasy cannot be a treason!