I hold that the perfection of form and beauty is contained in the sum of all men.
quote by Albrecht Druer
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Yogi post-it to William Carlos Williams
Thanks for leaving one…
I can only say,
that in the passing moment
the cold perfection of that plum
reflected my perfection
reflecting all perfection
and the beauty of that moment
was but my own beauty
which must be, is, the beauty of the One
so I hope the remainder
were as perfect, beautiful
for you
so why not
write a poem about this?
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Philosophy Of Beauty And The Beautiful
Simplicity is beauty,
Purity, divinity;
The virtue of quality
Excels that of quantity.
Beauty that pleases the sense is good,
Beauty and vitue are good,
Seek for things simple but noble,
Virtue alone can ennoble.
True beauty is simply graceful,
The graceful are beautiful,
There's beauty that's deceitful,
Nature itself is beautiful,
Beauty is perfection of form,
Virtue and good sense conforms,
Beautiful things may deform,
But virtue act in good form.
poem by Merlin Archivilla
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Actual Beauty!
Beauty without love will meet with the fate of Dorian Gray!
Beauty is the outer make up to make one look better;
Actual beauty differs from apparent one in almost all cases.
Actual beauty is inner love glowing bright out attractive at once;
True beauty is inner beauty naturally impressive in all respects.
Beauty lies in the perfection of thoughts, words and deeds in all;
Beauty is truth, perfection, love, freedom, joy and peace in one!
Art is a work of beauty as adequate expression only can complete it;
Poetry is an art as it makes beauty out of chaos logically meaningful.
Architectural work of Pyramid or Pisa is a frozen beauty of symmetry!
poem by Ramesh T A
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Summer's Form
Summer has been suspended this year;
nature has acceded
because all of summer's light and it's flowerings
are contained in you
coming into your majority.
Flowers bloom in those eyes
especially the blues and greens;
beauty caresses your body
alighting across those rose bud breasts
animal flora and mineral all align;
your hands
carry fire-flies
providing light for lovers in the gloaming night
lovers
who swim in their own perfumed senses;
beauty true is intoxicating.
Summer heat
rises here
I have tasted it
in your single kiss.
All can see why
Summer therefore concedes
this year
there is no need
for her arrivals
because Summer's delights
have all been contained
in the form of you
in this Night Garden
of our delights.
poem by Lonnie Hicks
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Cobblestones
The coffin, set up as coffins always are, near the grave, contained the father. The sentence, set up as sentences always are, on the page, contained the words. The meat package, set up as meat packages always are, with cellophane covering, contained the chops. The synagogue, set up as synagogues always are, for people, contained the rabbi. The classroom, set up as classrooms always are, for chairs, contained the professor. The coffin, set up as coffins always are, beside the grave, contained the mother. The word, set up as words always are, beyond hearing, contained the syllables. The prose, set up as prose always is, in census-rectangles, contained the phenomena. The nation, set up as nations always are, in questionnaire rooms, contained the sworn. The can, set up as cans always are, with ornate paper covers, contained the chicken o’noodle soup, with the circular noodles. Abacus, guitar, and quipu, set up as abacus, guitar and quipu always are, hieratically on notional strings, contained tobacco’s troubadours. The coffin, set up as coffins always are, next to the grave, contained the sister. The elegy, set up as elegies always are, dishonestly, contained the family. The steak, set up as steaks always are, artificially reddened, contained the fat. The rectangular venetian blinds, set up as rectangular venetian blinds always are, in the windowframe, contained the slats. The DNA, set up as DNA always is, in double helixes, contained the and. The word people, set up as the word people always is, in writing, contained the o.
poem by Aaron Fogel
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Crabs And Luck
the crabs are the creatures of pincers
they bite each flesh and nerve
and it will be so painful but you
are as silent as the
grass and as resilient as the
the vine that is in touch with the
latest wind
when you are finally taken
i know that like the rest you are not coming back
to tell us
how it is there
what perfection has been given
how happiness can never be contained
because it is
beyond the hold of our hands
beyond the grasp of the
human minds
lucky, indeed how lucky can you be
on your first trip to
eternity
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Beauty Of A Poem
The beauty of a poem
The beauty of music
The beauty of light
The beauty of life
The beauty which makes us want to live life more
The beauty which pains us inside
The beauty in longing.
The beauty we come upon by surprise
The beauty of the day and the beauty of the night
The beauty we all have inside us
The beauty we can see and feel and never explain
The beauty that lifts us up
The beauty that makes us want to live more
The beauty that makes us reach out to God
The beauty we want to thank God for
The beauty of lilacs
The beauty of autumn leaves
The beauty of the people we love
The beauty that pervades life
The beauty that turns away from us
And will not let us be a part of it
The beauty we hold on to fragilely
As a driven leaf
The beauty the beauty the beauty
Oh life oh God of goodness oh death
The beauty we can never see
And the Beauty within us all
Oh God
The Beauty in us and Beyond us all.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Beauty, Beautious, Beautiful
Beauty is not a superficial form
Each has their own in essential nature
And in the actions they perform
Until the dissolution of their life
To leave beauty’s impressions in our hearts
Yesterdays beauty never leaves or departs.
Beauty is all around
Each and every place it may be found
As you look with open eyes
Upon the forms that nature makes
Then man seeks to imitate
Yearning to match that beauty all around.
Beauty if you cannot find
Beauty must be in mind
Beauty is in purity
Beauty of simplicity
Beauty runs right through and through
Beauty in me, and them, and you.
Beauty, beauteous, beautiful
Beauty in heaven
Beauty in fire
Beauty in earth
And finally beauty in a simple verse.
poem by David Taylor
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All through eternity
All through eternity
Beauty unveils His exquisite form
in the solitude of nothingness;
He holds a mirror to His Face
and beholds His own beauty.
he is the knower and the known,
the seer and the seen;
No eye but His own
has ever looked upon this Universe.
His every quality finds an expression:
Eternity becomes the verdant field of Time and Space;
Love, the life-giving garden of this world.
Every branch and leaf and fruit
Reveals an aspect of His perfection-
They cypress give hint of His majesty,
The rose gives tidings of His beauty.
Whenever Beauty looks,
Love is also there;
Whenever beauty shows a rosy cheek
Love lights Her fire from that flame.
When beauty dwells in the dark folds of night
Love comes and finds a heart
entangled in tresses.
Beauty and Love are as body and soul.
Beauty is the mine, Love is the diamond.
They have together
since the beginning of time-
Side by side, step by step.
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song performed by by Neil Young
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Perfection
Your cold and poor-spirited love
Was like running water upon my hands...
I did for your love, all that I could....
As an imperfect man that I am...
I offered you just possible things...
Warmth when you were cold,
And consolation when you felt hopeless...
You search for perfection
Which you will never find...
Perfect is the rain that falls
In the spring time...
Perfect are the flowers that grow
in a real garden of love....
Perfect is the smile in a child
Who plays with toys...
Perfection is a man
Who had it all
And now is getting tired and old...
Perfection are the memories
In your heart and mind...
Perfection is something
You shall never find
On me or any other man
Since perfection is just
In your dreams and imagination...
Now perfection becomes
Just like a story untold....
How sad it is
That my love you can no longer have
Neither my hands again hold...
o! Woman, wish you good luck
In your new try...
COPY WRITE©2009
poem by Romeo Della Valle
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Individual Thus?
It could be that I am Perfection's Love
and all that you need.
It could be that you will brim with satiation
of all my needs;
I could be in error tho,
and therefore cannot be Me
if all of above were true.
But Being Me should not lie down at
Needs Door
and be external to the me
I was born with and the Me I am.
So perhaps I should be the Am which I already Am
and need not Be for you
the All you need,
understanding however that tack
is mere self-contained self-sufficiency
which in the end is isolating and lonely.
Surely self-containment is not the perfection we all should seek.
It must thus
that the individualistic suppositions we all assume
are clearly not true
because I am not truly the individual Am
and never was.
If, therefore, I am indeed a collective Me,
then how can I be the perfect match-
singularly- for thee?
The only way I think this could be
is that I and you
become Multiplicities able to abide,
meet and supply
our mutual multiple needs.
But is this Schizophrenia
both individually and culturally?
There is that word Individual again.
poem by Lonnie Hicks
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When Beauty Said Goodbye
At twenty one she is a physically perfect being
No words can ever tell of her beauty
That has no parallel
She is the object of men’s’ fantasies
The woman all others envy
Her only Endeavour
Is to be beautiful forever
Yet as surely as sunrise turns to sunset
Her beauty faded
At forty one, she is petrified
Her perfection has been flawed
A soft skin has become hard
The effects of age she tries to control
Though sooner or later we must all grow old
Now sixty one, she is desolate
Longing for her beauty that once was
She has lost what she most loved
In torment she watches
As her beauty slowly dies
Mortal is the beauty of the skin
But true beauty, everlasting beauty
Comes from within.
poem by Bancroft Boreland
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I May Not...
I may not be able to buy you a manse, but you have my heart;
We share a unity, as I am pained that we are apart;
If you experience times of joy, I am gladdened;
Should I feel grief, you too, are saddened!
You love me, I know, despite my eccentricity-
I love you-your beauty sublime, its causality!
You epitomize a nurturer, at times, I need the same;
You are fragile-to protect and covet thee always-my aim!
You were my first love-please do be for me, my last-
Though, I shan't force beauty's place, should this not come to pass!
All mine own life, my dreams contained this visceral, yet, bonnie lass-
Your form hath ne'er altered, however-formed from my past!
I may not be a magician, nor know how prestidigitation is done-
Yet, I present to you, two hearts-beginning to beat as one!
Maurice Harris,28 April 2010
poem by Maurice Harris
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Ascend the Throne.
Arise, ascend the throne.
Accept the crowning of adolescence.
An embodiment of perfection
She know not the vanity of reflection
Un aware of her beauty she grows ore so each day
Breaking the mould of perfection in modification
Her eyes at a glance seem to dance with the
Streetlamps that shine above her shadow
poem by David Lacey
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Images-Perfection Ever Flames, An Endless Supply of Moths
As I am,
I'm perceived Perfection
upon my ivory pedestal
in brilliant light
crystalline.
But these are my prison walls
Uniques Glow
is Perfection's Pall
which exiles me from that outer world
of reality.
I cannot mingle there.
My existence is constrained.
As bright as my Radiant Glow,
upon approach
to your world
I would dim
and be destroyed.
We can talk you and I
in Perfection's Harmony
but the moment you gain
my speaking voice,
my thoughts,
all is taken from Perfection's Shelf
and another less perfect me appears.
Nothing will compare
to me as I was.
Should I
in coming to you
destroy that Perfection which is now so dear?
Conundrum.
Corporeal life
is Kryptonite
yet mental isolation is too numbing.
I am Beauty in the light
but unavailable;
forever Uncoming.
Sometimes
Beauty is torture
we ourselves inflict
to escape our worldly life.
But since its shape
is mental most
it cannot ever be.
Pity the person
whose countenance
is corporeal beauty
realized;
they will have the sterner test
of not living up to hearts image most.
Each prince
whom we have constructed
alas, can only live with us
til that moment first,
the single word;
then the dream slips.
Honeymoons and marriages
might last longer I think
if we did not first wed
our Perfect Prince beforehand.
Is it not truth plain
that love itself is only grown
when 1st Prince Born
is laid to rest
and Prince Now
is allowed to live?
How better ground is it
to love the flower in the garden now
than those ones first grown
in Furrows of Gold
in Dream World
where Perfection's Hoe
was Loves Seeder
and Instigator
of the visions
we now hold
of what ought to be?
How can we in flesh and blood
compete with perfect diamond visions
which never fade or rust?
Whose hand is warmer still
than the Princely hand held in our dreams?
Who is sadder than
those who loved us;
yet whose faces are shadowed
by cold, Perfection's Glow?
How to dream
our destiny
yet still
love those
'round us;
remembering these ones
are the ones who will
when we, in time, tomorrow
are no longer our Own Prince
or Princess Image;
no longer Perfection's Darling.
Rest you better in Human Arms;
while they grow old and leather
they'll not in the end
take your pride and sell it away
to Dream Land Barons
and Rock Star Princes
who all live in Hollywood.
What to do?
abandon Vision
goals and Prince;
leave aside Destiny?
No, we must grapple with
this conundrum sent:
wrapped up
Perfection and Beauty;
living along side
uneasily,
with what is merely Human,
poem by Lonnie Hicks
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The Beauty
Beauty is the bliss
Contained in Five letters
Timeless Infinite;
In feasting the eyes
Harmonious and melodious
To the ears
And in the sweet heart
Which lies behind these Joys;
In the nature
The greenery, the rivers and mountains
The flora and fauna
The full moon
Lies beauty In the union of the hearts
And in the intoxication it creates;
and in their separation
pain and hurt Is present beauty
When we get what we desired
And Also retaining that which we got
Lies beauty In prettiness,
in loving hearts In youthfulness,
in charm In naivety of girls
and their aesthetic sensuality
Are all beauty to beauty
Also the heart which is melt in
and burnt
In deep sorrow and insult
And in their experience
And in their liking;
Lies the trait of beauty
poem by Varanasi Ramabrahmam
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When I think of art I think of beauty. Beauty is the mystery of life. It is not in the eye it is in the mind. In our minds there is awareness of perfection.
quote by Agnes Martin
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Herein Is Beauty!
Herein is beauty, not merely in the dearly covered flesh upon the bone,
Nor in the fashioning of a dress upon the form,
Nor in the twinkling, sparkling jewels upon the naked fingers...
But, rather, centred within the temple of the human heart,
Fastened to the eternal essence of the sacred soul...
There, in the midst of things, sheltered from all harm,
Exists the quintessential being, the true character contained,
And cushioned there are the colours of the rainbow,
Each representing a facet of the internal spirit of life...
Goodness and meekness and kindness and gentleness...
The softened sweetness, pure as honey,
Untainted by the harshness of life's cruel trickeries,
Unblemished, untarnished by the patina of time...
Look well upon true beauty, for it is worth the study...
Compare it with all that Man would call beauty...
There is no comparison in all of Nature's realm...
The Universe itself can barely contain it,
Yet it must, for how else could we, mere mortals,
Comprehend it and esteem its splendours?
Herein is beauty, not merely in the dearly covered flesh upon the bone,
Nor in the fashioning of a dress upon the form,
Nor in the twinkling, sparkling jewels upon the naked fingers...
But, rather, centred within the temple of the human heart...
God-made to stand against the rigours of time and space,
Twixt yesterday, today and tomorrow...
Beloved of God, forever, without ceasing, without compromise,
Without hesitation, disregard or dismissal...
For true beauty is His creation, His theme, His dream,
His one and eternal plan...
There is nothing more wondrous than beauty...
poem by Denis Martindale
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Beautiful ugliness
The beauty of life lies not in its purity or perfection
The beauty of life stands tall and with great attention
The beauty of life moves in all directions, always forward,
Some times in contradiction
The beauty of life drives man to survive with all of the power horses can contrive
The beauty of life jumps to all levels of delight
Great and ornate to a very placated state
The beauty of life flies with weightless wings
Dreams that keep us aflight because of their
Reality and possibility to become means.
The beauty of life rises after every fall, always
Toward the end of the furthest star in the
Most distant constellation, infinitely far.
poem by Jeff Rushton
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