En.Citatepedia^®.ro

Matter Of Beauty

That's Speedwell
and that's Red Sorrel

Jane said
pointing out

the wildflowers
as you both walked

down the lane
that led to the empty cottage

with apples trees
in the garden

and gooseberry bushes
in fruit by hedges

They all look the same to me
you said

Just flowers growing
she shook her head

and smiled and said
You townies

do you know nothing
of nature's beauty?

I'm looking at beauty now
you replied

and as you both walked on
down the lane

she in her summery dress
and you in your

open neck shirt
and faded jeans

you felt the morning sun
touching your head

like a fond mother
and the smell of flowers

and sound of birds
and she said

after a minute
or so of silence

Father says beauty
is only skin deep

real beauty lies
in a person's soul

if that soul is not blemished
by sin that is

and you looked at her
hand by her side

swinging as she walked
and the fingers curled

as if she held
something invisible

yet ready to throw
and you took in

her white ankle socks
above her brown sandals

and the calves of her legs
and her thighs

just showing
as the dress moved

and you breathed in deep
like one immersed

in water about to drown
of love or the feeling of such

and you said
I guess he's right

but I love the beauty
of skin pretty much

and she laughed
and her laughter

shooed off birds
from the tree tops around

who probably never heard
such a beautiful sound.

poem by Terry Collett
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Sonnet: Beauty

The flesh gets beauty, when draped by its skin;
The soul loses beauty, when filled by sin;
The beauty of things is seen when revealed;
The beauty of unseen things is concealed.

Woman! Thy beauty is in concealment;
Nature, thy beauty is the Firmament;
O Man! Thy beauty is by revealing;
Heart, Thy beauty is in deep feeling.

The Grace of God is the dress of the soul!
The Stars, Sun and Moon- the dress of the ‘bowl’! ’
Just as how skin protects the body’s flesh,
Good deeds make a soul beautiful and fresh.

Doing good in life is most important;
Avoiding harm is more significant.

3-1-2000

poem by John Celes
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Her Beautifulness.

There's an empty cottage
at the end of this lane
Jane said

and there's a large apple tree
in the garden
and no one goes there

so maybe we can look
through the windows
and see what's there

sounds good
you said
and she smiled at you

in her shy manner
and brushed her fingers
through her long black hair

and breathed in
the summer air
and there were birds

flying overhead
and a small brook
running along side

the lane
and you felt happy
being there with her

looking at her profile
at the way her eyes
looked about her

and her flowered summer dress
she said her mother made
and the way she swayed

her hips as she walked
and you sensed her nearness
her just being there

just a fingertip away
and when you came
to the empty cottage

she ran ahead and peered
through the windows
and you came along beside her

and looked through the glass
at the emptiness within
and she said

let's see if the doors are locked
and she ran to the door
and pushed but it was locked

and she said
just a chance we could have gone in
and pretended it was ours

and imagined where
we could have put our furniture
and we could have gone up the stairs

and looked out and pretended
it was our bedroom
and we had just married

and then she was silent
and you stood behind her
and touched her arm

and said
let's go pick some apples
and you can pretend

you're going to cook
an apple-pie
for our dinner instead

and she smiled
and gently pressed her lips
on your cheek

a small wet warmness
entered you
and oh

you thought
as she ran to the tree
that she would always be here

just the summer sun
and she in her beautifulness
and 13 year old me.

poem by Terry Collett
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Church Sitting

You sat with Jane
in her father's church
the bright morning sun

piercing high windows
pushing colours on flagstone floors
the silence caressed you

her nearness warmed
her ankle socks and sandals
had an innocence of strawberries

her flowered summer dress
rode up to her thighs as she sat
her hands resting on her knees

can you feel that breeze?
she said
cooling isn't it

you sensed it as she spoke
yes I can
you replied

your eyes moved along her thighs
then lifted to her face
as partial sunlight

seemed to show
grace there on skin
and dark black hair

and you watched her lips move
as she spoke and said
I was christened here

and maybe I'll be wed here too
to whom?
you asked

and she looked at you
a thirteen year old boy
then looked away

some birdsong from outside
had caught her ear
and she turned her head

and you gazed
at her neck and jaw
and saw her beauty

in a way you had not before
sunlight catching her
as it had coloured patterns

on flagstone floor
you wanted to reach
and touch her arm

her skin and sense
her pulse of life
that pumped within.

poem by Terry Collett
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Time to Lose.

She was there
in the church
arranging the flowers

at the altar end
where her mother said
she'd be when you knock

at the parsonage door
some moments back
and you entered

through the old oak door
into the silence
and smell of age and flowers

seeing her
in her summer dress
unaware you stood there

her hands touching
flowers in vases
moving them into place

an intenseness
on her face
you moved slowly

down the aisle
not wanting to disturb
or cause alarm

then Jane turned
and smiled and said
I've nearly done

and tapped the flowers
in the final place
Where shall we go?

You moved closer
to where she stood
and said

To Heaven
if we're good
they say

she shook her head
and said
I meant where

about outside?
Wherever you like
you replied

studying her hands
as she wiped them
on her summer dress

how the fingers lay
how some god
brought them

to such beauty
and her eyes
and hair

and her
just standing there
enough

you mused inside
not out
to bring one to a faith

of some creative god
and she said
Why do you stare?

What holds you
rooted there?
Let's go climb

the Downs and look across
the vast expanse
of fields and trees

and birds in air
just you and me
and this love

just being there
Oh how romantic a mood
holds you today

she said and put her arm
through yours
and moved you on

and down the aisle
between the pews
unaware as youth

too often does
of hours passing
and having time to lose.

poem by Terry Collett
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As You Walked One Summer's Day.

These lanes are very narrow
you said
walking with Jane

from the parsonage
where she lived
to where the farm road began

Are they?
she replied
I've never thought about it

just that the hedges are high
and the birds chock full
in them and their songs

Yes
you said
They are

and in London
there are no hedges
or narrow lanes

and the only birds
are sparrows
and pigeons

and you wanted
to take hold
of her hand

and squeeze gently
the flesh
and sense her pulse

but you didn't
you put your hands
in your jean pockets

and gazed sideways on
at her and her dark hair
and her profile

and the scent of her
like lavender
as if she'd dived

into a wide field of it
and embraced
the flowers and stalks

What bird song is that?
she asked
No idea

you replied
moving closer to her
the scent getting stronger

the desire to be closer
taking hold but still at bay
It's a blackbird

she said
You'll learn them all
the birdsongs

and where and how
they nest and in what months
and you nodded

and saw how
the summery dress
moved and swayed

as she walked
the flowered pattern
like a field moved

by a soft breeze
and her sandaled feet
touching the gravelled lane

and you thinking
how it would be
for them to be held

and kissed by you
if she were beside you
lying in a field

or in one
of those tall woods
and you pursed your lips

and she looked up at the sky
her eyes gathering
the blueness

and whiteness of clouds
and she said
Monet would have captured that so well

and You
you muttered
He would capture you well

each aspect
of your face
and hair and eyes

and she smiled
and looked at you and said
I'd want to be captured by Renoir

have his arthritic fingers
clutching brush
and capture me

and maybe secretly
lust after me
and she blushed

and turned away
and you thought
Oh yes yes yes

but said nothing
just gazed
and breathed in

her being
her beauty
all there

for you to view
the eyes
the hair

the profile
the way her lips smiled
and sway of walk

and the tall hedges
seemed to explode
with the wild bird's talk.

poem by Terry Collett
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A Matter of Trust on a Summer's Day

Jane's mother said
she was up by the church
and so you went up

the path leading
to the church of St Mary
and there she was

laying some flowers
on a gravestone
she looked up

as you approached
and smiled
your mother told me

you were here
you said
I think Mother

must like you
she wouldn't
have told you

otherwise
Jane said
getting up

from the graveside
and brushing her hands
on her summery dress

who are the flowers for?
you asked
looking at the flowers

placed in a small jar
on the grave
a parishioner

we used to know
who used to like
this type of flower

oh I see
you said
looking at the graves around

and the Downs further back
and the trees nearby
where did you want to go?

you asked
how about a walk to Cocking?
we can do some shopping

while we're there
and enjoy each other's
company in the process

is it far? you asked
a mile or so
she replied

ok
you said
and you followed her

down the path
and along the lane
to her house

and you waited outside
while she went inside
after a few minutes

her mother came out
with her and said
it's very good of you

to go with Jane
all that way
I wouldn't like her

to go alone
that's all right
you said

and she smiled
and went in side
and Jane said

see she trusts you
not many boys
around here

she'd say that to
oh right
you said

looking at
her dark hair
and her eyes

gazing at you
and her hand
holding a shopping bag

and her lips
breaking into a smile
come on

she said and
so she took
your hand

and you walked
along the lane
keeping close

to the hedgerow
the sun warm
and the sky blue

and you sensed a joy
of it being
just her and you.

poem by Terry Collett
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My Beauty

There’s are days when you just wanna feel like a beauty in everyone’s eyes. But there’s always a butt head to make you feel less then you are I believe if you think or know you are then you are. It’s only what you make of it. There are times when I don’t feel beauty at but I think of what I always told myself. “My beauty is not just a pretty face. The beauty I have is a brand new sent of peace. My beauty is lovely peace sense of laughing out loud. My beauty is like an oak wooden chair that my daddyand I love to sit and think in. My beauty is a graceful smile I give her everyday.
My beauty I have is a great sense of style that I have to show the world. My beauty is my fragrant smell of lavender on my skin and hair. Beauty that I want is a 5 star hotel that someday I will stay in when I’m famous. Beauty is my toned color of the skin on my body. My beauty slowly surely of love i feel for you.
Beauty is my sleek smooth skin of my true beauty is deep within me. Now I know the sign of beauty I was bless with.

poem by Evevona Plummer
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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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What Others May Think.

Apart from the water tower
and the farm

and a few scattered cottages
there were no other buildings

for a mile or more
just you and Jane

and birds in the early morning sky
I like it at this time of day

she said
I like the fresh smell of nature

and the farm
and having few people about

you walked beside her down the lane
that led away from the farm

you noticed how her black hair
seemed freshly washed

and blew slightly in the mild wind
does you father mind

you being out with me?
you asked softly

he doesn't know
she replied

he thinks I came out alone
for a morning walk

why didn't you tell him?
you asked

he was busy writing his Sunday sermon
and it was easier to just go out

and not disturb him
she said looking around at you

her eyes studying you
as she walked on down the lane

would he mind you being with me?
you asked

I don't think he knows you as yet
seeing as you have only moved here

a few months and don't come
to the church

you stopped and took her hand in yours
it was warm and soft

and pulsed with life
she looked at your hand

holding hers and she rubbed
her thumb over the back

of your hand
you wanted to kiss her lips

or cheek just to feel
her flesh on yours

but you didn't you just looked at her
and waited to see

what she would do next
she let go of your hand

and looked around her
there might be people looking

from those cottages up there
she said suddenly pointing up

at the rising bank which went up
to two cottages high up

if they see us they may tell Father
and then it would be awkward

and he might suspect things
and then she went quiet

and looked at the running stream
by the lane

but we haven't done anything
we just walk out and talk

and hold hands now and then
it's not what we do

it's what others think we do
she said softly

and stood looking at you
waiting for you to speak

but you said nothing
just leaned in close to her

and kissed her cheek
and said

even Christ permitted kisses
even the one from Judas

and she smiled
and the early morning sun

pushed through trees
and shone on her hair

and there was the sound of birds
singing in the air.

poem by Terry Collett
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Bless Me With Those Eyes!

'A thing of beauty is a joy for ever'
Words of Keats one can forget never
What is beauty - beauty is where
One can enjoy here and there, every where!
Grecian urn a beautiful piece
Niagara falls a beautiful place
Silver streaks of water brings us peace
Hills and dales sure nature's grace!

Does beauty lie in the objects seen
Or lie in the eyes of the seer keen?

Beauty seen in the scorching Sun
Beauty felt in the biting cold
Beauty heard in the melody of birds
Beauty smelt in the fragrance of rose
Beauty tasted in the bitterness of neem
Beauty found sure in every mean(s) !

'Beauty is truth and truth beauty
That is all what ye know on earth
And what all ye need to know'
Words of Wisdom
From votary of beauty
And a devotee of Almighty!

Creator of noble beauty
Harbinger of peace and piety
Bless me with those eyes and mind
Beauty in ugliness that they can find!

Beauty of the mind and beauty of the soul
Sure makes one the wholesome whole!

poem by Subbaraman N V
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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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My Search For Beauty

I went in search of beauty
and with feeling looked around,
I noticed much in my path
where beauty could be found.

It went above human appearance
and feelings that run deep,
it wasn't just in my dreams
when I got my beauty sleep.

The beauty was felt inside
in a divine and blessed way,
it was in the growing flowers
and the nice things that we say.

I found beauty in the sunshine
and in the clouds up high,
the rain that fell upon the earth
and the lightning in the sky.

It twinkled in the stars at night
and the moon at every phase,
righteousness and gratitude
showed beauty in other ways.

It appeared in the shadows
and the kindness that we share,
I found that beauty was hiding
and some didn't see it there.

Beauty is in good memories
and times spent with a friend,
there are signs of beauty
in the messages we send.

Beauty is seen differently
for some it's in disguise,
but we cannot see true beauty
through another person's eyes.

poem by Shelley Williams
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The Real Beauty

Everyone seems so intent on beauty,
but beauty is only skin-deep.
It is what lies beneath the beauty
that everyone, should be looking for.
The real beauty everyone wants to attain
should always come from within
and not the complexion of their skin.

13 February 2008

poem by David Harris
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Jane and You and the Gatekeeper

You sat with Jane
on the grass
in the field
beneath the Downs

she was looking
at the sky
and you
were watching her

her profile
her hair pulled back
in a ponytail
her eyes bright

as new coins
her pale blue dress
and white ankle socks
and brown sandals

she followed a butterfly
fluttering by
a Gatekeeper
she said

where?
you said
there that butterfly
it's called a Gatekeeper

you turned to watch
the butterfly
she had pointed to
as it fluttered off

down the field
stopping now and then
to land on flowers
I love butterflies

she said
how do you know
all their names?
you asked

I read Daddy's books
he has a number of books
on butterflies and moths
she said

she lay back
on the grass
and stared
at the sky

you lay down
beside her
your hands
behind your head

she smelt of lavender
you noticed
you breathed it in
let it fill within you

don't you read books?
she asked
turning to look at you
taking in your white shirt

and blue jeans
I'm reading a book on birds
you said
I bought it in town

the other week
that's a start
she said smiling
I guess so

you said
I didn't realize
there were so many kinds
she studied you

as you spoke
resting her head
on her hand
maybe we can go looking

for nests next year
when they begin
to nest again
she said

ok
you said
not to touch though
she said

just to look
birds don't like
their nests disturbed
in London

we only have sparrows
and pigeons
you said
how boring

she said
you watched
her lips moving
as she spoke

her eyes on you
studying you
I'm glad you're here
you said

glad to be here
she replied
she touched her fingers
to her lips

and blew you a kiss
and you did likewise
seeing a new world
in her deep dark eyes.

poem by Terry Collett
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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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That Summer That Love

The summer sun
warmed you and Jane

as you made your way
up the dried up

muddy track
towards the Downs

the sunlight
pouring through

the branches of trees
overhead

you thinking
of your work

on the farm below
the day before

the weighing of the milk
the clearing out

of cowsheds
and the cowman saying

what do you want to do
when you leave school?

to be a cowman
you replied

you want to get yourself
a proper job

you don't want to do this
for a living

and Jane said
breaking you

from your thoughts
I want to show you

where I used to sit on the Downs
and where I used to collect

bones and skeletons of rabbits
and moles and birds

and you turned
and looked at her

as she walked beside you
her hands swinging

as she walked
her black hair tied

in a small bun
at the back

and her yellowy flowered dress
capturing your eyes

my father works in the woods
further along

you said
he works in the ditches

and hedgerows too
she bent down

and plucked a flower
that's Squinancywort

she said
showing you the flower

as she twirled it
between fingers

she offered it to you to smell
lovely isn't it?

you nodded
and carried the scent

with you as you both
moved on up the track

she turned to you and said
your dad does well

at his work for a townie
and you smiled

and so did she
and you captured

her lips parting
and her bright white teeth

and her eyes
moving over you

like a soft caress
and she whispered

turning her head away
do you love me?

and you whispered
yes.

poem by Terry Collett
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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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One Summer 1958

You sat with Fay that summer day
on the flat concrete roof
of the World War Two bomb shelter

down below the tall flats
where you both lived
and you said

do you want to go
to the movies with me?
she looked across

at the coal depot
with its trucks loading
and unloading

I don't have no money
she replied
you looked at her

my dad'll pay
you said
he's always giving me money

for the movies
she shook her head
and you looked ahead

at the sun shining above
the rain tracks
over the coal depot

you had on your blue jeans
and white tee shirt
and she you noticed

turning your head
had a red and white dress
which came just over her knees

and she wore sandals
on bare feet
besides my mother wants me

so she can see me
Fay said with a sigh
she raised and lowered

her legs against
the concrete wall
her sandals making

tapping noises
as they hit the wall
and you noticed bruises

along her thigh
as she moved
and her dress rode higher

what are those bruises
on your leg?
you asked

she looked down
and stopped moving her legs
and pulled her dress hem

over her knees and thighs
I fell
she replied

down the stairs
you looked at her arms
where other fading bruises

blended into her skin
like worn-out badges
we can see a Western film

you said
I'm sure
there's a Jeff Chandler film

so my dad tells me
but she shook her head
too violent

Mother says
Fay uttered looking away
but there's kissing stuff too

you added
Fay looked at you
her blue eyes

moving over you
like a smoothing
palm of a hand

I'm not allowed
to go to the movies
Daddy says

its sinful and only
wicked people
go there

to be tempted
by the Devil
she sighed

and you both sat in silence
for a while
watching pigeons fly

in the blue summer sky
then she turned quickly
and kissed your cheek

and said
don't have to go
to no movie

to see kissing
and you thought
of the boring bits in films

where the cowboy
gets kissed by the girl
after a gun shoot out

and having been kissed
by Fay
you were glad

and guessed that kissing
wasn't at all
too bad.

poem by Terry Collett
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Her love

Who waked up the morning shine?
Who waked up?
the love in my heart
soared the feeling of my soul

Oh; the glow of her smile
The glance of her smart
so gentle and tender her smooth
Skin, the golden shining face
of her, and the darkness hair of her
Her lips's callingness love
called life in me
Oh her dress which dressing her
is beauty her dress?
I can't define
if the beauty her or her dress
She waked up in me
the morning rays
whispering the love in me

poem by Sallam Yassin
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Beauty is

The beauty beheld is alive.
Beauty hiding is of the soul.
Beauty freed is love.
Beauty seen is beauty in control.

Beauty is the passion of the heart.
Beauty causes order divine.
Beauty is seen in all the great.
Beauty is the lure of nature's design.

poem by Josh Alfred
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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