Beauty of the shining self
The life of a ‘minor poet’, an amateur,
of, say, fifty, a hundred years, ago,
and long before that:
a lifetime’s love of poetry;
and one’s personal contribution,
after 25 years, let’s say, might be
a ‘slim volume’ of verse,
distillation of that lifetime,
printed elegantly at one’ s own expense
in 200 copies, maybe,
a few sent to literary journals
for, perhaps, a few lines of review; and
some letters of appreciative response
from friends to whom one sent the poems;
‘the quintessence of a beautiful soul’, wrote one.
today – when ‘beauty’ is no longer thought a virtue
in many areas of art – there’s something
more important, so some think –
a poem on the internet as here
can produce a written response
so unexpected, so beautifully expressed,
that it leaves no doubt of what the sages say:
that there are two aspects of that which we call ‘beauty’:
the fine, yet temporary, one which may be studied, learnt –
a lifetime, say, curating or collecting Chinese ceramics
of the finest period, when making or owning such a pot
was like a spiritual act of devotion –
and that beauty which is eternal – that of the human self,
shining in all its glory from a human being so roused,
beauty that melts one’s heart and brings one to one’s knees
all inwardly; known, reflected; entirely of itself;
and which can be found from time to time
blazing from the screen here, from persons known or unknown,
within a ‘Comments’ box…
a beauty, surely, greater by far than any poem,
revealing all the riches of the human heart
without any inhibition;
and yet, given cause to blaze out thus
by this form of words called poetry.
poem by Michael Shepherd
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
The Poem I Cannot Write/ Is The Poem Beyond My Own Poetry
THE POEM I CANNOT WRITE/ IS THE POEM BEYOND MY OWN POETRY
The poem I cannot write
Is the poem beyond my own poetry -
It is greater than what I am capable of -
It surprises in ways my awkward phrases cannot
It is complex beyond my simple simplicity
It has an infectious beauty
That demands to be recited again and again -
It lingers in the mind and memory
As a strange new beauty beyond anything done by anyone else before.
The poem I cannot write
Has been written will be written
By those greater than myself-
I have the great blessing
Of being able to read them
But I cannot join them
Despite a lifetime of trying.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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All The Poems Remain Written Where They Once Never Were
ALL THE POEMS REMAIN WRITTEN WHERE THEY ONCE NEVER WERE
All the poems remain written where they once never were
The grass and the skies of Whitman form lines in the mind of Baudelaire
The trees and dark cities of the distance form single sounds in the heart of the poet who cares
Night is more than darkness and day more than an early setting out
Each thing influences the other and calls back its own origins and end
We are going somewhere we will never know whether we write eternal lines or not
Over everywhere can be heard in the morning light the selfsame sound that through the heart of Ruth burned the alien corn
Keats is not dead, and Borges is not dead and Kafka is not dead and Wordsworth and all those who wrote great lines are not dead
Poetry is the last first eternity of the living word
And those who can hear the sounds of others greater than themselves in their own lines know
We are all writing down this last poem for ourselves and no one else
Though as we go to pray each morning the minyan tells us secretly
All our prayers together are more than any single poem can be alone
In the grey long distance where no one hears any poem at all
God writes and rewrites for us all the book of the stars in which dread is no longer a name
And beauty bright bright beauty is heard and reechoed as more than we will ever be
God is the only Poetry in the End
God is the Only One who never will be dead..
poem by Shalom Freedman
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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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God is beauty
The beauty of a lady
Spreading love on Internet
The beauty of the first kiss
On the corner of a dark room
The beauty of a crow
Pecking the food into grasses
The beauty of the skins
The beauty of the smile
Of a pretty girl
The beauty of the morning light
The beauty of a queer feeling
Under the shadow of a tree
The beauty of the sparrows
Bathing in the pond
The beauty of the unknowns
The beauty of forgiveness
The beauty of solitude
At a goodbye party
The beauty of a sinking heart
Driving on a steep road
The beauty of a lady
Walking alone
In the park
The beauty of the laughter of a child
The beauty of being loved
The beauty of the pat unexpected
On our shoulder
Saying I am here beside you
The beauty of making love
Early in the morning!
The beauty of the beauty
The beauty of God
The beauty of Jesus
The beauty of Zoroaster
The beauty of Buddha
The beauty of myths
The beauty of goddess
The beauty of you and I!
poem by Framarz Bagheri
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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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The Everlasting Throes of Those
The Everlasting Throes
Of Those
Who Argue about Poetry versus Prose
And about the Propriety or Crime
Of Meter and Rhyme
In Poetry:
as I see it, it’s back to the ancient Greek idea
of three near-absolutes – Truth, Beauty and Goodness
and although they’re all absolute in their aim,
and therefore theoretically equal,
most of us, I suspect, have our personal order for this list
those who put Truth first at all costs are more likely
to write prose; but if they love beauty in words
and have the urge to write something beautiful in words
they may try poetry; but to them,
rhyme is untruthful, dishonest, because
looking for a rhyme
becomes a crime:
and leads your mind away from the strict Truth.
while those who put Beauty first don’t have
a fixed attitude – they may, as children do,
love the formal music of hearing about
A certain Mrs Dhutti
Who was very slightly nutty
She wouldn’t wear a saree
As her arms and legs were hairy
And thought it was much better
To wear trousers and a sweater
etc.
or they may feel that their response to the world
is so full of love, of awe, of wonder
(of which Aristotle said the second and third
are shared by philosophers, that is, lovers - note the word - of wisdom,
and poets – though a poet
may not know it…)
where was I oh yes, their response to the world
is most truly - note the word - expressed
in free verse
which may be better poetry
or worse
and what about Goodness – oh let’s not
get into that: the poetry Forums are full of the emptiness
(though it’s a necessary evil, looked at in a way)
of poets and readers and critics saying
what’s good poetry and what’s bad
according to them and feeling
they’ve made a contribution to
Truth, Goodness, and Beauty, in that order
by pronouncing this.
some few, some worthy few, and I’ll mention no names
for reasons not unconnected as Milton might put it
with the previous stanza,
whose brilliance of that servant mind which we all share,
manages to juggle Beauty, Goodness and Truth,
in that order in this instance, and not only juggle but
remain faithful to them all; we could call them
The Absolutely Great – they speak straight from heart to heart
and they don’t worry about prosaic considerations like the above
because they’ve got it all, all this, within their art; within
their constant heart.
(Readers, please note,
that last line’s a quote.)
poem by Michael Shepherd
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0257 When the Heart Melts
sometimes,
some wonder times,
I read a poem here and
instantly want, because
of the love of poetry
or goodness, or truth, or beauty, or
whatever, to
live the life
of the poet who
wrote it
though
on reflection
that might not work out
or, I might not know
I'd exchanged lives!
but
at the moment I thought it
the thought was pure because
thanks to poetry
and the very human poet
our hearts were indeed
as one
(for Oscar Mireles)
poem by Michael Shepherd
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There Is A Poem About Poetry
THERE IS A POEM ABOUT POETRY
There is a Poem about Poetry
That has never been written
It waits somewhere hoping to be heard
It has in it all the Beauty of words
And all the silence no sounds can ever bring
Its Beauty has a Laughter and a Love
Only exuberant and exalted words can know
It is sacred and holy as psalms of praise
And was written by the Creator
Long before Writing had a Name.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Beauty Is The Poem
BEAUTY IS THE POEM
(At listening to Air on a G String)
Beauty is the poem
The music is the poem
The beauty of the music
Slow and slower
Deep and deeper
Long and longer
Beauty is the poem.
The melody that plays its slow length along
Beauty in the music
Beauty as the poem
Life as beauty
Life as music
Beauty is the poem
And life is the music now.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Making Poetry
Why did I make a poem?
It's more than you can imagine
It's not about black or white
Because the power of poetry that I'm dumbfounded
Look at the whole Bible, everything is poetry {not, but a holy book down from Allah is the truth}
Abstract ideas of science are all from the poem
Idealism actual human life is poetry
I'm just trying to be honest...
Creating poetry for me is more than anything
Not me want to be Jesus or Muhammad {but imitate their pious}
But I do not know what my purpose {paradise}
Only the most important is to produce poetry
I just write from the unreal world
Introduce something to people here
Are they willing to accept it or not does not matter
Since the poetry of the poem is the image of eternity
Who continue to fly and only revealed to the seeker
Poetry for me is more important than life
More important than my beloved
More important than my brother
Because the poem can represent any
Why did I make a poem?
When you reject the poem in your life
It has a form of poem to poem
Actually you can not escape from poetry
But you did not realize it, be aware of?
Indeed the poem is really real
Do you not believe how strong poetry
Look at all the countries in the world today
All poems must have an ideology
Ideology of all States is poetry
Do you still deny its power?
From now on, deep down consider
The poem is more than just blank words without the influence
(30 April 2002)
poem by Irvan Hermawan Saichu
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Patrick Colum
He penned 'The Old Woman Of The Roads' and 'A Cradle Song'
And to Ireland's best lyricists he surely belong
And his haunting ballad 'She Moved Through The Fair'
With any song ever written is one to compare.
And though to the reaper the poet has long gone
His best poems and lyrics will always live on
He sure was a master of the wordsmith trade
Poets like him are born they cannot be made.
The name of Patrick Colum is a memorable name
Even in his own lifetime he did know great fame
The beauty in his verses is for all to see
A man of great talent who penned great poetry.
Many of his poems are good but his best poems are great
And with the best of Eire he is one to rate
And even in death his fan club does grow
Most lovers of poetry a song or poem of Colum's know.
A legend in death and in his own lifetime
Patrick Colum one who penned quite memorable rhyme
His wonderful gift with the World he did share
A poet of the people and his type are rare.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Poetry of Art or Art of Poetry?
Which came first-poetry or art?
Which of these two is my favorite part?
Poetry speaks to the heart and soul
Through vocalization of written word,
While art molds and shapes formation
Of heart and soul once the poetic art
Of words moves to the shape the heart
Feels inspires visualization and creation
Of such dramatic, deep impact as art
Makes responsive to the poetry that
Inspires it.
Does poetry not speak of art and
Art of poetry?
Each of these takes the form
Of a smiling simile.
Art is the extension of visual beauty,
Words unspoken
As extensively connected as the
Heartfelt extension indepth beauty
Stimulates out of spoken words
Poetry admires and inspires
Deep down in the soul.
Art reflects poetic expression
Poetry visualizes mentally
While are visualizes physically-
Both of which visualize emotionally
When mutually expressed and impressed
Upon each other to create the beauty
That first created it.
poem by Bill Darrah
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Beautiful One
Oh beautiful one, adorned with spell
To ravage my world as might a sweet angel.
Oh beautiful thing, so much at ease:
Allure of caressing breeze in touch gentle.
Oh beautiful creature, sail me do,
As floating on seas of halcyon blue tincture.
You beautiful being, gracing charm
And features that render feel of deep texture.
Your beautiful poise in glide supreme,
Gives such like a vista honed as from heaven.
That beautiful art of face ornate,
Not ever to understate or be riven.
Your beautiful flame of pulchritude
Doth dizzy me high, so I conclude always
You beautiful girl forever be
My shining Janette; my guide; my stairway.
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2009
All rights reserved
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poem by Mark R Slaughter
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Started As A Seed
My love for you started only as a seed when I first look upon your beauty.
Now my love has grown as strong and tall as a mighty redwood tree. I loose my breath each time I look upon your beauty, And how your beauty touches my heart and soul. Your beauty warms my heart like the sun on a cold winters day. I know God truly loves beautiful things. For out of his heart and with his might hands he made you. Only God him self could have made such beauty as yours. If there is a greater beauty I have yet to see it with my eyes.Your beauty has reached deep into my heart and soul and I thank God for that. I can only hope and dream that my love for you has touched your heart as well.
7-24-09
poem by Timothy Honeycutt
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Without Beauty
WITHOUT BEAUTY
Without Beauty
What is a Poem?
What is a Life?
Without Beauty
What are we?
We need Beauty-
We live by Beauty-
Beauty in words also.
Oh if I could only write a poem
As Great as my feelings of Beauty are.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Beauty Of Love!
Beauty reflects in the behaviour and performance;
Beauty lives in loving care, kind words, gentle act;
Outward love is the index of inner beauty of soul!
Beauty thrives on art, music and poetry forever;
Natural beauty reflects the beauty of God ever;
Beautiful music reflects voice of God beautiful!
Beauty, music and love are where heaven exists
Making life ever enjoyable to live on the Earth with
Colourful Sky, birds and flowers as back ground!
Morning Sunrise with birds singing to wake one
The day begins with beauty and joy to see again
Beautiful happenings of day's work to satisfaction!
Evening Moon-rise preceding Stars in the night Sky
Twinkling as diamond jewels is beauty eternal to peace!
poem by Ramesh T A
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What a Beauty-Full Life
Beauty is in flowers, and the petals
Bathing in the early morning dew
Beauty is in the eyes of a father
When his son takes the first step
Beauty is on the face of a baby,
Sleeping in mother's lap
Beauty is in freedom,
When you fly high on the wings of hope
Beauty is in the expressions of a poor man
When he gets food after eternity
Beauty is in the pride of a teacher
When his student supersedes
Beauty is in the compassion of a devotee
When he finds solace
Beauty is in the innocence of a child
When he asks you questions
Beauty is in the sips of laughter,
You share with your friends
Beauty is in the springs of desire
that arrive after a prolonged autumn
Beauty is in the cry of a woman,
Whose womb succeeds
Beauty is in the silence,
When you don't speak, and you say a lot
Beauty is in the warmth of passion
That builds around the arms of a lover
Beauty is when those small fights,
End with tears of joy
Beauty is when the first raindrop,
Kisses your cheek
Beauty is in perseverance,
When the world's showing off
Beauty is in the enigma,
When everything's certain
Beauty is in a poem,
Where poetry meets prose
Beauty is in little chunks of life,
Filled with joys and sorrows
Beauty is in your eyes,
your heart, and in every single breath
Beauty is when you say,
"What a Beauty-Full Life..."
poem by Piyush Kaushal
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Sonnet: On Good Poetry
The cause if noble, needs an effort great;
If nobler still, the struggle must be more;
If willed by God, unaltered 'tis by Fate;
Yes, Poetry has Life, its soul as core;
True Poetry is written from one's heart;
Its glory and beauty is forever;
Without a doubt, it involves effort, art;
Profound's the joy, evoked in each reader.
Good Poetry's a river flowing ev'r;
The Poet's mark is writ, 'etched', on its face;
Time cannot steal its beauty, value, pow'r;
It grows in fact, in height and girth and base.
Good Poetry's a sacrifice too great,
To God and Earthlings that can ne'er abate.
poem by John Celes
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What do I think of human beauty? What beauty will save the world?
There is only one example of beauty on earth and that is Jesus Christ. The manifestation of this figure is of immeasurable beauty and certainly a miracle.
For St. John, beauty goes in this direction: the only beauty consists in the incarnation. This is the manifestation of Beauty. Beauty, understood as spiritual beauty, will save the world in the sense of privileging life.
Camelia Oprița in Ecce homo (December 2007)
Submitted by Alberto Casiraghy
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The Wishing Poem....
poetry had always been
between your legs
you feel it
only that you do not
speak about it,
perhaps it was the fear
that worked most in your lifetime
a lifetime perhaps,
a lifetime sentence that has not earned a
period for itself,
one day you will find poetry between the
cleavage of your breasts,
supple
firm
and so juicy and you wish a man comes by and notices it
and wish that he will feel how is it to be
bountiful,
ripe,
luscious,
perhaps he will take heed
and eat, and suck and
lick
and say that this is what a lifetime is all about
and finally
take for himself
that poem of yours.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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