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Jacob Hammer – Three Poems

Beauty is the wound that heals you as it digs further. It’s what all poetry, all art that is truly art is after. When I see it in poetry, I know it because, to paraphrase Dickinson, it takes the top of my head off. Beautiful poetry reaches between our ribs and makes a home there by shifting our organ around and becoming a part of us forever.

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Diana Raab – Five Poems

Some people often speak about objects, concepts, and individuals as being beautiful. These are things that might stand out to them or resonate with them. In Buddhism texts, there’s often a reference to the beauty of nature—the trees, the flowers, the mountains, and the animals. The lotus, which is often seen in Buddhist realms, is one of the most beautiful flowers. The way it grows in the mud and erupts into a spectacular living thing is phenomenal.

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Anya Silver – Five Poems

I suspect that what we consider beautiful is often a bit strange; there is beauty in the ordinary, but beauty is that which is not ordinary. When I see or hear something beautiful, I feel it in my body and breath. Beauty exists everywhere, including in the midst of great suffering and ugliness; perhaps that kind of beauty is the most potent of all.

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Brandi Jo Nyberg – Seneca Rocks

Beauty is a flash flood in the desert. The blooming of fireweed and arctic lupine. Beauty is turquoise, milky glacial waters rushing past alpenglow mountains. A vulture soaring in a cloudless blue sky. A sun-bleached bone resting in the sand. The way wind whispers through the trees. The smell of dark earth after rain. Beauty exists within the small moments of solitude I am granted in nature.

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Judith Skillman – Five Paintings

Beauty equals light, and vice versa. To capture sunlight in motion as waves in bodies of water bounded by sand, shoreline, island, spit, or any number of other natural boundaries, provides a strong motivation for the act of creation. The process of a painting is driven at first by experimentation with colors that mimic the rep shot.

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Sonia Saikaley – The Bird’s Nest

Beauty consists of layers of memories and colors as vivid as a sunset after a busy day or as distant as the mountains of my parents’ village in Lebanon. I remember a colleague placing a beautiful bouquet of flowers at my desk when I returned to work after my father’s death. Grief made me sluggish but that beautiful arrangement helped me make it through that first day back at work.

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Catherine Moore – Three Poems

I love the souls who find beauty everywhere. Like in William Carlos Williams’ poem “Between Walls” the speaker describes a particular image, in a passageway by the “back wings” of a hospital. The setting is one of those barely acknowledged places, trashy parts of everyday life in urban societies, a place “where nothing will grow.”

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Foster Trecost – Bridges Are A Lot Like Long Corridors

The boy took a shell from the unbroken pile. “Look at this shell. It’s perfect, without a single flaw. It’s shiny and smooth, no cracks or chips. It doesn’t remind me of anyone I know. But this shell,” he said, taking one from the other pile, “is like the people in our village, this shell is like us. There are rough edges, and deep cracks. It wears the scars of a full life, yet it is still a shell. To me, this shell is more beautiful than all the others.”

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Elizabeth Jaeger – Mattituck

Beauty is kindness. It it the boy that holds out his hand to the bullied child on the playground. It is the man who buys lunch for the homeless. It is woman who rescues animals. The parents that open their hearts to an orphan. The community that embraces refugees. The girl who raises her voice to protect the weak. Beauty is the smiles that are sustained during the storm.

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Lavinia Kumar – Four Poems

There are moments when beauty suddenly strikes, a new woodpecker at the feeder, the lonely awk…awk…awk of a single goose on a pond, an early morning mist over hundreds of geese on that same pond, the quiet stalking of an egret in a brackish inlet near the sea, a red dawn sky revealed when you pull up the blinds, a row of nearly-blooming cherry trees.

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Pat Hanahoe-Dosch – Hearts

I see beauty in groups of women marching en masse in Washington, D.C., peacefully, passionately, wearing pink ‘Pussy Hats,’ while waving witty signs. Beauty is being able to breathe the still unpolluted air, before the EPA is completely gutted, on a walk through a National Park that hasn’t yet been closed or sold to a corporation for drilling rights, knowing this is perhaps a fleeting pleasure.

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Jesse Glass – Carroll County Anthology

There was a small stream cutting through our property back Snydersburg Road. When I was nine years old, or so, I found an arrowhead in the gravel by the stream. When I washed it in the water, I could see the delicate flaking of the thing as a network of lights and shimmering darks, and I found this ancient piece of worked stone to be beautiful.

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Lana Faith Call – Four Poems

Beauty lives in small things. In the shape and shadow of lean back muscles under his skin. In the helix of birch-tree branches exploring the upper reaches of their sky. In the feminine s-curve mouth of a teapot. Maybe that’s why my poems tend to be smaller than average. I love to discover the ways in which the most majestic of things – continents and gods and love eternal – etch their marks on the smallest of surfaces.

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Robin Wright – Five Poems

What surprises me is when I find beauty in unusual places like the grace of two delivery men, the lonely sound of a train whistle, or the thought of laundry on a clothesline having human emotions. As a poet, I feel I must always be open to what the world will offer, so that I may respond with words I hope will encompass the beauty in front of me.

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Laura M Kaminski (Halima Ayuba) – Four Poems

I think perhaps “beauty” is the term for what we experience in those moments we escape our ego-community, the ones when all the energy tied up in whether or not we are doing what we should be, whether or not we are going to be able to get what we need or accomplish what we feel like we must, whether or not others are treating us equitably

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Lorette C. Luzajic – The Violet Hour

In my youth I was forever moved by Leonard Cohen’s poem, “Suzanne.” I wanted to be her, to be the one who showed others where to look for beauty in the garbage and the seaweed. Because I saw it, too. More than three decades later, I am still blinded by the beautiful in chaos, in clutter, in the flawed, the noisy, and the broken.

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Mary Ellen Talley – Three Poems

First, I conjure visual beauty, the paintings I share with children as an art docent in my granddaughter’s class and some amazing photos that friends share over social media. I’ve become aware recently how photos get doctored and how famous art has faded. Visual beauty changes across time. Acoustic and linguistic beauty changes less.

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