PAD Day 22 – Stars – Stark Raving Mad Star Painted Skies

March Hare

March Hare (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Stark Raving Mad

is what the March Hare
calls Alice
who really must be a writer
because who else has dreams
like that?

The first poem is due to Robert’s lovely suggestion he’s totally fine with prompts that get bent a bit. I couldn’t resist. And honestly, aren’t we all a little stark raving mad?

Okay, now onto Stars (blank) poems. I really could have gone so many ways with this. I love astronomy and Greek mythology. I love how the mythology is in the stars and I love star maps. Constellation guides. I love seeing the blue fields filled with the lines of the constellations. I love learning the names of the stars. Vega, Aldebaran, Rigel, Arcturus, Betelgeuse, Procyon, Sirius, Capella……

I also love Enya’s ‘Paint the Sky With Stars’. Anything to do with stars I’m kind of a fan. I even fold paper stars. Heck, I need to write a poem about paper stars.  Oooh, I think I found my evening writing prompt.  I will come up with something I can add in for tomorrow’s post.  I have also been humming Corinne Bailey Rae’s “Just Like a Star’ in my head a lot. It’s on of my favorites of hers.  It’s just a really smooth song.

But for now, enjoy my three other star poems.

Starry Sky

Midnight blue field with silvered dashes
connecting alphas and betas and iotas
till Orion bursts forth as the mighty Hunter
shooting across the sky as the stories
ancient stories unfold
The lions, great bears, and bulls
circling around the mighty men
the dreamers and beasts
wrapped into a dome of magical light
whirling around and around at dizzying speeds
as the sun sets and the moon rises and
the reverse in seasons and moments
and arc minutes and right ascensions
till they pinpoints bleed into the galaxy that
we call home as far off distant light shoots forth
A star? No, another world light years away.

Star Painted Sky

Paint the sky with stars, in silvers and golds and blues
and dash all the constellations until the disk is
filled with the light and the stories and the music
and the tales from long ago myths
Paint the ceiling with stars, in bold yellows and reds
giants and dwarfs and suns spinning round
twirling us in a golden ratio of mathematical delight
a seashell of magic and spirals
Paint the summer with stars, crashing and slamming in sound
the silence is only in your head as the clash of
oceans of stars collide in a symphony of light spinning
spinning around and around and around.

Star Wishes

She wears a star on the inside of her wrist
a memory of a wish she made
and hopes that one day the wish she made
will turn out and really exist
But dreams and wishes seem so lost not found
as time slips slowly on by
and time is just but a memory
she wonders if the wish will ever be profound
But she wishes and wishes the same
hoping for something to come true
and wishes are true in ones dreams
These wishes are a burning flame

Kate

The Badass and Roscoe

 

 

[via gthegentleman]

 

He was such a badass.  Or so he liked to portray.  He had intricate tribal tattoos inked up his forearm and there were a few in other places that while they did see the light of day, it was usually when he was in bed with a woman.  A motorcycle was his choice of transportation and he tended to live nights of clubbing and smoking way too many Marlboros.

Yeah, he was a true bad boy.

Unless he was around  Roscoe.  Then he became the sweetest guy in the world.  Roscoe the french bulldog.  Gloria’s little baby.  He wouldn’t get two steps in Gloria’s door before Roscoe was clambering to be held.  And he always gave in. 

Gave in to the fact that his arm would fall asleep as Roscoe curled up in his arms.  Give in to the fact that he would probably have to stay this way the rest of the evening or Roscoe would whine.  Give in to the fact that as tough of an exterior he tried to have, he loved the little dog more than he would ever let on.  Though he had a feeling Gloria knew.  She would get that look in her eye.  The look that said, ‘Man, someday you are gonna be the best father ever’.

Those looks would always worry him, but he couldn’t resist that face on the dog.

So what if in fact he was a cream puff nice guy.  No one but Roscoe needed to know that.

 

I couldnt’ resist an idea when I saw this picture.  It is beyond beyond freaking cute.

Signing off

~Kate