Urban Starry Night

Twinkling in the darkness, these city lights, a galaxy at our finger tips

Maybe that’s why we keep building you, cause our childhood dreams of going to the moon feel closer

The glimmering sparkles Paint an urban version of Van Goh’s “Starry Night”

Skyscraper milkyways and neon labeled planets

Headlight shooting stars and street light moons

Traveling to the outskirts to overlook this galaxy.. silence, like watching an old movie. It brings a subtle peace and calm, there’s beauty in the chaos

Each glow like an angel's halo, maybe that's why you're the city of Angels 

Reflecting on the simple illuminating flickers scattered in the deep dark, allows you to breathe and reflect for that moment as you forget everything you were and every worry you had. Like someone went supernanny on your brain, organizing , allowing for clear thoughts

And as we look out we make wishes on the urban stars we've created, which is maybe why we made them, So we’ll have more chances to wish upon a star 

Eyes closed the end of the summer breeze, gently breathes through my skin and takes my anxiety away, I hear space ship bustle and moon police

Taking a step out of the galaxy to observe its beauty through your eyes telescope, can simply make you feel as though your own world has paused. As to let us see this meteor shower of our Urban Starry night.

Buildings for miles with thousands of flickering lights of early birds going to sleep or night owls awakening

An urban galaxy never fully asleep, partial insomnia from the constant commotion and so, this skyscraper zombie reminds me I need to take my spaceship back to that commotion and join the ones who've managed to get some sleep or maybe join the nightowls lost deep in ponder.

So I take one more breath, and watch the end of my silent motion picture of the galaxy we live in. The wondrous, beautiful, mystery..

of our Urban Starry Night.

Players

This was written after a writing prompt to write something about 2 people "playing" each other ...


He makes his first move as smooth as the skin he's seducing.

But like one of her reptilian locks the smooth skinned Medusa makes her move slow and venomous

His lips speak words more convincing than her own conscious

However, his eyes take her bate quicker than any fish.

He is the definition of foolish and she is his synonym

Releasing their love into chance, the dice tumble as the players carefully try to move farther from home.

They take turns pulling cards from the deck, holding lies lust and mistrust in their hands.

He pulls, then moves. She pulls, then moves, in this tug-o-war game of give n take

But when they both draw the card that says "Sorry go back to start"

The cliché phrase "why do I always fall for your type?" scrolls across the jumbo-tron as they're benched from this game they've got so caught up in.

They moved from red shirts to All American veterans faster than a Bugatti with an engine injected with blood straight from Usain Bolt.

They didn't realize they're as fake as the Monopoly $ they make rain on their game of LIFE

You see, this type they're falling for is the same face staring back at them in the mirror... A Player.

The face of a player made up in collage of the face cards they pulled holding lies, lust and mistrust

If they were honest like Abe, and real like Jordans, they'd see the truth clear like visine.

They would understand the strategy to win the game is to stop playing, because in love there are no rules.  And they would no longer have to ask "Why do I always fall for your type?"







For Grandpa

Grandpa,

Tired face, with wrinkles displaying the badges of wisdom time has gently painted on

Stern, yet gentle because when your life story has chapters titled Great Depression and World War 2, fighting for the life you have been given becomes second nature.

Yet it does not mean you are too strong to love,  because the following chapters read 60 years of marriage to Marilyn Lavaughn Wyatt, 5 beautiful children, the grandchildren and great-grandchildren that followed.

Many a golf swings taken on dewy mornings by a noble silhouette of a man who shares walks with God, laughs at newspaper jokes and takes advantage of books rather than technology

Because knowledge and imagination partnered with worn pages, the smell of paper, and the touch of a page can never be replaced .

My nose comforted by the smell of coffee brewing on holiday get togethers’ because it meant you were there.

An old pink vest and little pink pj’s sewn with your steady hands still kept safe, top shelf in my closet

Bow and arrows remind me of Robin Hood adventures in your backyard,

Where snowy days were spent sledding with Luke and Dan on the hill that the water tower claimed

And anytime I would see that water tower in the distance it would bring me back to those days at grandpa and grandma’s house

The back yard where every Mother’s Day my clothes were marked with little dirt hand prints from wiping the soil off, until they were put into gloves 2x too big because that day we all became gardeners , filling every pot and flower bed with newly petalled blossoms

Sipping lemonade on the red painted deck, and eating applesauce cake.. with raisins that I used to pick out, because I just wanted to taste the moist goodness and creamy hershey frosting. Funny how  I don’t pick the raisins out now, probably because with age I have learned to appreciate the little things.

I have always admired your unconditional love for Grandma, especially in a day and age where it seems love is only given when convenient.

You truly set an example that love lasts through anything and holds true even in the hardest of times.. because although her lips stay quiet and her mind is tangled in the web dimensia has weaved, she is still the same beautiful women your heart found companion with and her heart is still the one holding your hearts hand.

And now your body may be weaker, as cancer has made it’s home.. but I will never see anything less than the strong-willed man I have always seen in you Grandpa.

As a child I would look up to you in a literal sense, at the face with a jawbone defined in character and a laugh that was at its best when you would tell jokes at Holiday dinners

Not much has changed now because these brown eyes still look up to you, but not with the child like tilt of my head because you have always been taller.

Rather, I look up to you because your faith, passion, respect, honor, and love make you that much taller than me and I see how much room I have to grow from your example.

I have never really told you exactly how much you mean to me and I wish I could tell you in person, but I just wanted you to know… I love you Grandpa, always and forever will.

Love ,

Amanda Rose