Category: Poetry

These days, I think of ephemerality as beauty, and as a poet, I’m in a war with time, trying to capture tiny pieces of the world as we all hurtle toward the end.

beauty is bound up in our five senses: through colour, music, taste, touch and fragrance the divine is revealed. If, as a writer, I can render an experience of wonder in words, crystallise that emotion on the page and share it with readers, that is a privilege beyond compare.

Beauty is a form of mutual resonance, like a tuning fork vibrating to the same pitch as another turning fork. In this sense, it is also a kind of recognition, not merely of something superficially pretty outside ourselves, but something that resonates with some similar thing inside us.

I have decided to stop and cease this doing and undoing, and walk on the heaviness of streets, (in grief and joy, their meanings unknown) and perhaps, perhaps make a life.

Beauty is something that startles, makes you catch your breath– Like Emily Dickinson’s saying if it feels like the top of my head is taken off, I know it is poetry. The same with beauty.