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.
To me beauty is the acceptance of oneself, the appreciation even, letting our qualities, or the quality of our creations, shine out, regardless and heedless of the opinions of others.
A thing, an act, an atmosphere is beautiful when it engages the heart, the intellect, the past, and the body, which is the present as well as the gift.
No drought, no summer of heat in the hundred-teens, no monsoon / or long gone prohibition against our kind will kill us. Our stoicism / lives on to offer applause to the windstorms, that seasonal ushering.
It started with a list of made up words for kinds of snow, followed by their definitions, and short poems as explication. It was, of course, strange to be writing about snow while in Thailand…
The moment of the last breath lingers and silence envelops the room. The intimacy of such a scene contains a certain beauty that can only be experienced by those who are present. Beauty is art. Beauty is life. Beauty is pain and suffering. Beauty is joy and glory.
I am preoccupied with words,with mixing them up, getting them a little wrong to surprise, in order for the reader to forget she is mortal for one split second.
I as a poet and an impartial observer try staying in the fullness of the ‘beautiful’ where I gather. I can’t lose it. It’s too scarce to be lost.
For me, beauty is looking out my window and finding the harmony of the world. It’s staring into my love’s eyes as my mind floods with memories of our past, our dreams of the future. It’s gazing into the mirror at my own face and finding joy. We have to explore, redefine, and reclaim beauty for ourselves.
Beauty is circular and generative, vigorous and fertile, the soil from which springs more beauty, which then in turn drops its seeds.
In people and artistic expression, I think beauty assembles in our spirit the perfect pieces needed to create a whole and fix our attention. In memory, these occasions may become ideal forms that we may seek to achieve for the rest of our life. Day by day, beauty is a minefield.