Author: admin

Andrew Stancek – His Mother Told Him

Beauty? In the air I breathe during my daily walk, in words: “When I see the black cricket in the woodpile, in autumn, I don’t frighten her. And when I see moss grazing upon the rock, I touch her tenderly, sweet cousin.” Mary Oliver, “Moss”. And “The sound of the ocean, the wind, your own heart.” Sylvie Germain, Magnus.

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Laurel Peterson – Four Poems

The mind may define something as beautiful, but it is the body that recognizes it and provides us with the sudden intake of breath, the moment when we look up and see what we’ve always seen in a new way. And if, in that moment, I am granted a perception that I can put into words, then maybe I will be lucky enough to pass it on as a beautiful poem.

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William Ruleman – Three Translations

Perhaps it is best to approach beauty with humility. (I say this even while having to admit that beauty often catches us unawares, as when I first heard Mahler’s Eighth Symphony or, as one who had never been an admirer of tapestries, came upon some by William Morris on display at the Cincinnati Art Museum one afternoon and was reduced to tears.) Great works of art can surprise us in this way.

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G. Louis Heath – Three Poems

In a world rendered inchoate by divisiveness and the limitations of human faculties, the words and images the poet employs connect the reader’s mind and emotions to an experience or object in the flux of the swirling events of life. Poetry grants access and focus for a mind to experience resolution and catharsis of all that besets it on individual and macro levels.

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Kate Bernadette Benedict – Four Poems

In poetry, the effective image–even if it’s piercing, even if it describes something eerie or ugly—can be a beautiful image. And when I think about it, this is the type of image I strive for in my poetry. The exacting image. The specific image. The ringing image. The stinging image, sometimes “cooked” and sometimes “raw.” Let’s call it beautiful.

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G.F. Boyer – Poems and Photographs

Beauty is delicious and healing, a feast for the eyes or the heart or the mind. One of my favorite verses from the King James version of the Bible reads, “And the glorious beauty, which is on the head of the fat valley, shall be a fading flower, and as the hasty fruit before the summer; which when he that looketh upon it seeth, while it is yet in his hand he eateth it up.”—Isaiah 28:4

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Jack B. Bedell – Four Poems

My poems are tributes to that beauty, archives to hold on to it as long as I can. Sometimes those moments hit me in the chest like heart punches; sometimes they whisper in my ear with sounds just like my mother’s voice during bedtime stories. It’s my responsibility as a writer to get them all down as often and as accurately as possible so they share well, and for lifetimes.

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Kelly Cherry – Four Poems

For me, depth of thought is an essential component of any creative art that is beautiful. I also love the beauty of mathematics and science, especially physics (insects and insides I find less attractive but I am glad that others study them). I love the depth of thought in great books and meaningful visual art. Why do I want depth of thought? Because I think.

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Tobi Alfier – Five Poems

When my son was in his first year of college, on the weekends he cooked for his roommates. Two of them are vegetarian. Besides going to classes, doing his homework, playing Final Fantasy 15 whenever he could, he researched vegetarian meals, cooked for them and baked bread. His heart was so full when he made them happy. I am so proud. My arms are around all of them. That is beauty to me.

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Joe Cottonwood – Four Poems

Beauty is of life in every corner, wet cells sucking nourishment, giving birth, teeming through every grain of earth. We drink water once swallowed by Jesus, breathe atoms once blown by Buddha, share the light of stars with unknown beings on undiscovered planets. Of this light, this water and air, this story without begin, without end, of this universe of countless souls is beauty.

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Ruth Bavetta – Five Poems

I have always been fascinated by the juxtaposition of beauty and danger—aspects of life which often collide or intertwine. When I was a practicing artist my work often explored this subject. For several years I devoted much of my time to a series of still lifes mingling the beauty of such things as flowers, fish, or pearls with the beauty of broken glass which reflects light and threatens anyone who touches it.

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Donelle Dreese – Five Poems

Donelle Dreese – Five Poems   Earth Mothers They came in early spring. They asked the hard, dry fields to be patient. They folded dirt into buckets and planted seeds not knowing if the green shoots of prayer would bear fruit. They surrounded an Oriole’s cradle packed with eggs and sang songs in low-throated melodies of birth. They brought with them tones of the sea hoping the memories of marshlands would feed the waterfowl. The earth mothers come every spring and we don’t see them, rowing and sowing dangling spit on their fields when the rain doesn’t come. They...

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Emily Bowles – Three Poems

Emily Bowles – Three Poems   Unearthing Your Name, Its Roots You chose the name, Astrea, a cognate for star that sounds like a flower in weeds. We find them here.  They grow, deliberate, as if they understand how to arrange patterns defiant of what you create. Hairy White Oldfield Aster, Frost Aster. I can’t name them–the blooms retaliate, unruly as they grow into edges where they do not belong.  Subordinate, bowing, but defiantly wearing white crowns. Cedar Waxwing in Our House A primordial instinct urges him to catch it. He carries it inside for us to see it....

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LaShonda Katrice Barnett – July’s Jonquils

LaShonda Katrice Barnett    July’s Jonquils   St. Louis, 1942  “Are grits groceries?  Are eggs poultry?  Now Fritz, how long have I been coming to you?  You know better than to ask a question like that.  Of course I prefer the piece with all the marbled fat.  Since they took my gall bladder last April, after the thing swelled up so big and nearly popped right inside me, you might as well give me the fattest piece you’ve got.  The fat’s what seasons the meat better than salt and pepper ever could.  You know that.” “Two you’ll take, Mrs. W. ...

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Steven Ostrowski – Four Poems

As long as we are at least partly receptive, when we encounter genuine beauty, in any of its forms, its power temporarily overrides our default consciousness (which is often only a rote semi-consciousness) and, for a period of time that feels halted, it reconfigures our perceptions, our emotions, our points of view, our intellect. It is as if some of the atoms of a beautiful form enter us and some of ours enter it in a transaction that creates a most personal, intimate experience.  

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Charles Wyatt – Six Poems

When I think of beauty, I think of music.  Mozart, Beethoven, Bach.  That kind of music.  Well, it’s been my day job for a long time.  If I could write a poem that does what the opening measures of Debussy’s Pelléas et Mélisande do, I would pay myself a million bucks.  I spent fifteen years writing a poem called Goldberg-Variations that comes from the pov of a piece of music. 

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Yu-Han Chao – Four Poems

Beauty is arbitrary, subjective, and for all the banal and common stuff it’s made of, entirely irresistible. We aspire to it yet at the same time cannot bring ourselves to trust it. This is a curse of sorts because it would seem that the timing is never right, the universe filled with obstacles and excuses, and then all of a sudden, one morning we wake up, and it is too late.

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