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Eva Wong Nava – The Everlasting Face

To capture beauty is to restrain its infinity, its abundance and its multiplicity. My story is about the transience of beauty as manifested by Antonio’s successive failure at capturing his lover’s face. What we have left of beautiful things is their essence and our memories of their existence but even that eludes most of us sometimes.

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Kaori Fujimoto – Pints of Beer

I believe beauty is something we each have deep within and surrender to, rather than create. It is the affirmation of the self that loves and hates, and lives well and badly, at his/her/its own discretion. And anything created out of such beauty moves people, sometimes to the extent of changing their lives so that they will embark on the journey back to their own beauty.

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Kim Whysall-Hammond – Two Poems

Beauty is something that grasps and transfixes me. I stop to stare at the way a chickens feathers catch the light. I point out the rainbows contained in the roadside oil spill. Many sunsets are colourful, but some truly arrest my attention, so that I cannot stop looking at them. This is, I admit, a grave problem on my evening drive home.

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Sneha Subramanian Kanta – Three Poems

Beauty cascades from in between curtain pores as the first rays of sun pass through. It resides in the folds and gaps of lovers holding hands, in the comfortable silence that passes between their souls. There is beauty in the dust jacket books, signed by an unknown person for his beloved, in the way he dots his ‘i’s’ and puts a dash on the ‘t’.

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Peggy R. Ellsberg – Four Poems

On a bright but cool summer morning, my father is casting a fly rod out over the pond, his fishline arcing across the napoleon-blue sky; Shubert’s “Trout Quintet” swims softly from an open window; in a nearby field, my beautiful horse with the golden mane stops grazing and stands at ease, his ears relaxed as he connects effortlessly with the music, and I know that he is at prayer.

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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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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...

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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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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...

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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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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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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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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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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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