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Nina R. Alonso – Double Rainbows, Translation for Mortals

Part of what we do as writers and artists is generate and focus perception. At times it’s an ordinary thing that catches me, the amazing shape of a strawberry. And what about the textures of music and dance, the emotional angle of a painted glance, words that express what’s beyond words?

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Karen Greenbaum-Maya – Five Photographs

I take photos to honor the beautiful moment that no one else notices. A psychoanalyst friend thinks that beauty is proof of God’s love. His God is kinder than mine; for me, beauty is recompense for being human in the face of God’s love, which surpasses my little understanding. Beauty shows the connection between inside and outside, the possibility of human wholeness in the indifferent world, the grace of getting a cosmic joke.

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Ruth Asch – Three Poems

It is seen in the loveliness everywhere around us, heard in inspired music, felt when we witness a noble deed, when we experience ecstatic or self-forgetful love. Beauty is not different for the sake of it, though it often seems to strain at the boundaries it heals rather than breaks, but wherever it is found we feel uniqueness, a specialness (even if it is the nth sunset we have seen!) which is the mark of the personal… for me, beauty is the breath of God flowing through his creation.

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Anna Evans – Five Poems

Can poems about a famous disaster which caused a tragic loss of life truly be called beautiful? In contemplating this question, I am reminded of two very different poems. The first is an excerpt from a poem by the fictional Paula Nancy Millstone Jennings, which begins “The dead swans lay in the stagnant pool.”

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Martin Willitts Jr – Four Poems

My grandmother once said to find the beauty within every person, every object, because they were “that of God”. This is Quaker-Mennonite-Amish-talk for the concept that God is everywhere, in all things, and we have to find the hidden kindness, or special aspect, because God is somewhere inside.

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Yvette Neisser – Three Poems

I believe that beauty in poetry comes from the combination of words, images, and emotions. Even a horrific subject like war or a mundane subject like socks (a la Pablo Neruda’s “Ode to My Socks”) can be made somehow beautiful with words. For me, in the writing process, this often involves focusing on the sounds in a poem—vowel or consonant sounds—and looking for sound echoes.

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Robert Nisbet – Four Poems

I have always, from childhood, felt a yearning for the beauty which is to be found in the human presence, in areas of our lives like neighbourhood and community, the smaller communities, the villages, the lived-in countryside, very often. Many of my poems seem to focus on those places and moments where the human world and the wider natural one meet and fuse.

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Tammy Ho Lai-Ming – Two Poems

Tammy Ho Lai-Ming – Two Poems Leftovers The Chinese understand leftovers. How food can be made over into other food. How whatever’s left in the pot can be reused, cooked into something random, humble. That women still unmarried in their early thirties or beyond are called sheng nu— literally the ‘left-over ladies’. And why 61 million children have been left over, left behind in villages by parents seeking work in cities, living in cramped spaces, eating leftovers. Distraction When a pigeon in flight crashes into a passing train, its feathers disperse like messy confetti, and seconds later, its mangled...

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Louis Faber – Three Poems

I’ve come to realize that beauty arises from, and is the essence of existence. We cannot exist (long) without it, nor can we define it. It is like Buddha nature, it is there, independent of us – it does not require us, we require it. Children innately understand beauty, as we age we begin to seek it. We would be better served remembering the advice of Shunryu Suzuki Roshi: “In the beginner’s mind there are many possibilities, but in the expert’s there are few.” Our job is merely to allow beauty in all of its shapes and forms.

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Thriveni C Mysore – Two Poems

Beauty is the self. One can feel it, realize its all pervading existence only when one tries to see for oneself; within oneself. A spectrum can be seen in a glass prism, crystal, diamond or even a water droplet – only when white light shines on it. That essential white light is beauty – like the self within.

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Sarah Marxer – Rocky Shoreline

I’ve been collecting moments of beauty, each one a loop interlocking with the next, like the construction-paper chains I made in childhood and again with my daughter. The most durable kinds of beauty, for me, arc from light to dark and back again. When a late-afternoon sun paints bone-colored tree trunks against a dark gray sky.

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Eva M. Schlesinger – Four Poems

Eva M. Schlesinger – Four Poems Egret’s Egress That egret white and still as bone stilt legs on triangle of grass freeway’s edge stands proudly between two signs: Pedestrians Prohibited and Wrong Way His Choreographed Ballet Whenever I came home, he made a big deal of making up my bed He whipped up the fitted sheet into white froth, floating the Kliban cats cover sheet on top He danced, around and around my bed Embracing the end corners of the red and yellow wool blankets, while I held the other ends, he waved them, billowing them into sails My...

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Celia Drill – Five Poems

As I watch, the room darkens until her figure disappears. What is left are glowing forms held up by invisible arms. A small voice whispers take them back, take them home, birth them again, paint them again these colors, let them fly through the trees like enlivened leaves, like wishes, prayers, and promises released from our mouths and minds into the great divine.

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Pat St. Pierre – Five Photographs

Look out on a beautiful spring or summer day and you’ll see the delicate splendor of the flowers. Morning and evening sunrises and sunsets open up a whole new world with their intensity. What could be more perfect than an autumn day with exquisite red, orange, and yellow leaves bursting with color. The sea, the sky, and the landscapes with their formations and colors bring a sense of awe and admiration to us.

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Nancy K Jentsch – Five Poems

… humans have been driven to capture or replicate the beauty we see around us. Cave dwellers provided early examples and now quilters plant tulips on quilts, photographers gather the colors of a sunset, violinists trill like a songbird and poets use a palette of words for their canvas.

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Margarita Serafimova – Five Titleless Poems

Goats on island cliffs contemplate the sea with a self-assuredness that is the equal of any great poet’s. They are the artists of what they see. And falcons, they embody beauty because they haven’t the time to passively look. They perform art as they fly, superbly appreciating its esthetic valor.

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Sara Dailey – Three Poems

It is easy for me to find things beautiful. The way a man’s hands look when he holds his child. How the corners of the eyes crinkle when someone laughs. Steady sound, rain on a roof. Even the shine of a beetle’s back in sunlight. If you want to find beauty, you just need to learn how to pay attention.

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Stephanie Porven – Four Poems

I believe that true beauty can be found in contrast. Consider the stars which illuminate the dark night sky, fields which must be burned in order to nourish crops, and the fact that there is no person in this world with a body that is perfectly symmetrical: one toe might be longer than others, a freckle might only be present on one hand.

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Nalini Priyadarshni – Poetry Cookies

I am moved by the peculiar. Maybe because it stands out for me and is likely to be real rather than what seems to be perfect but often turns out to be a put on. As a writer, honest writing that minces no words is what I find beautiful. People who are unabashedly themselves are very attractive to me.

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Susan Tepper – Meditations on dear Petrov

Some find beauty in perfection, while for me, beauty can present as a rotted tree trunk, a fence missing slats in exchange for honeysuckle, an old house gone to wrack and ruin. I look into things that might have once been considered beautiful, seeing them with a fresh perspective, at the possibilities, as they travel through what is known as time.

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Bryanna Licciardi – Three Poems

What I find beautiful is what I find moves me. To me, beauty is vulnerability, is open, is fluid and raw. It’s something that is able to exist in the real world, but still see beyond the grit. I’m not sure if this makes any sense to anyone else, but as both a reader and a writer, I’ve felt the most beauty in those dark moments that are determined yet to shimmer.

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Rachel Dacus – Four Poems

… ‘Beauty’s impact on the viewer is the urge to replicate it.’ For me, beauty in its broad sense remains an indefinable, mystical quality like a signpost to perfection. It draws me inward to contemplate. I’ve been affected by beauty’s presence in ways that have changed my life—when I toured the art and history of Italy. Beauty is a blessing that can be found anywhere. I love that beauty is always close at hand, to nurture and still, and to fuel the urge to create.

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Clif Mason – Two Poems

Beauty is that rare element of strangeness and elegance that triggers surprise, or even astonishment, in the familiar or ordinary. In the extraordinary or unfamiliar, it can excite a sense of awe approaching, and encompassing, reverence. In poetry, it can be the sonorous richness, the music pitched in an untold number of different keys and timbres, playing behind or in or through the images. Or it can be the images themselves, even if stark, harsh, and atonally expressed—whatever serves to intensify, deepen, or vivify.

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Bruce Taylor – Three Poems

the artist’s job is to try to polish the ordinary until it becomes extraordinary and the extraordinary until it becomes transcendent. I know how grandiose that sounds but the key phrase is “try to.” I try to make my poems beautiful objects. I work with moving relations of sound and sense, of the concrete and the abstract, of vision and voice. I want to make things full of grace and utility.

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Editorial – The Unimagined Corollaries of Beauty

The real creation was done by our contributors, who wrote and thought and painted and photographed and sculpted and played and composed. There’s so much talent out there, such incredible minds, legions of people doing wonderful things, even if conditions seem sometimes unpropitious.

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Anne Cecile Surga – Five Sculptures

Beauty is an aura, a sensation that speaks directly to the soul. One does not experience a beautiful object, but the feeling of beauty. Experiencing beauty is being exalted by the perfection of the moment, and that perfection is created by the reaction of our senses and soul toward the artwork.

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Wendy Elizabeth Ingersoll – Three Poems

For the last 60 years I’ve been practicing the piano almost daily. I will never be a concert pianist, I no longer even accompany in church or community theatre. I simply sit down on the bench and begin again. What I’m really doing is practicing beauty: its creation, its presentation— in my own ears, if not in the rest of the world’s.

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Angela Amman – The Opposite of Vows

Caught at exactly the right moment between dawn and sunrise, the sky greets me in layers of sherbet shades — pinks and oranges that steal my breath as surely as they chase away the darkness. Beauty seeps from that moment, offering itself to anyone who takes the time to see it.

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David Southward – Three Poems

Beauty is a full moon over Lake Michigan, shrouded in smoky, backlit clouds and illuminating the rippled path of a sailboat. You can’t look away. It’s both exquisite and excruciating—causing the face to wince in the same way it would to express pain. And that’s what beauty is: pained gratitude for what can be endlessly contemplated yet never possessed. Even as it inflames our acquisitive, collector’s instincts, the beautiful eludes our grasp.

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Diane Elayne Dees – Two Poems

We have many more than the five senses we were taught about in school, and when these senses respond to beauty, a complex neuron dance is cued in our bodies. For me, beauty exists everywhere, and I feel the rhythm of that dance throughout each day, regardless of my mental or emotional state. I have to experience beauty to survive.

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G. Timothy Gordon – Four Poems

Ideal Beauty is clearly unattainable in this mortal life, like King Tantalus reaching for the ever-receding fruits of Hades or beautiful Narcissus falling in love with and dying into his watery reflection at the expense of The Other in life. Epochal beauty is forever ephemeral, forever changing.

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Heather M Browne – Three Poems

I am drawn to what is creative or unseen, versus the typical standard, a different way of seeing, or saying, or moving, a different way of touching someone or exciting them. Beauty is the ability to see beyond. It is in wanting to look below to the pulse. Beauty is the struggle to contemplate the heart.

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KJ Hannah Greenberg – Five Photographs

More exactingly, in visual representations, notions of beauty emerge as much as from schooled and traditional foci as they do from private experience. Some artists replicate the lines, shapes, shading, and tones of classic or of Renaissance fare. Others fashion the optical equivalent of punk, reggae, or house music.

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Deborah L. Davitt – Three Poems

there are different kinds of beauty. A mountain range takes my breath away, as does a sea at storm. But there is also something sublime in a mother who’s fallen asleep holding her sick child–the pain of her experience, her fear of what could happen to her child, the child’s fear transmuted into rest by its trust in its mother–that’s something beyond the prosaic and the everyday. You simply have to be willing to see it, rather than to close your eyes to the possibility of wonder.

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Kathleen McClung – Four Poems

my partner and I drove past a long, long freight train standing still. Even now its beauty enlarges and humbles me: the winter sunlight, the multicolored graffiti entwined on every single car, the absence/presence of people–who drove that train? who adorned it?–and the stillness–where had it traveled already?

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Kyle Hemmings – Five Photographs

I became entranced and immobile, immersed in my sense impressions of the outer world invading the inner. It was much later that I began to love words and the way they could combine to form poems or stories. But for me, the image, and the other physical impressions of an object, the scent of a flower, the feel of a dog’s fur,

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Devon Balwit – Four Poems

The natural world serves as my most consistent doorway to it–whether through a mackerel sky at sunset, the geometry of garden flowers, striations in stones, the hover of raptors, the myriad shapes of insects, the wind swirling grass, or light playing on water. I’m awed by fractals and iridescence.

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