Beauty wakes me early, while it is still dark and says, Come and see what you missed.

Beauty lives in minutiae: the way a familiar crow cocks his head, how light enters the boughs of the pine tree in my yard, the distinct scents that arise when I’m cooking a meal.

Beauty can be obvious in the music of Mozart, but it can be almost missed if you don’t notice the way light hits kitschy toys in the windows of a souvenir shop.

Beauty is intermittent, moves back and forth through time, is equally restless in space, improvisatory, until stilled onto the page by the voice of address and regret

I come from a long line of women with nimble fingers,
born in the Cumberland’s shadow.

Beauty … catches my eye, soothes my soul, arrests my attention, conjures a memory or a moment preserved or lost, for a time, and resurrected.

Sr. Gail Fitzpatrick – Five Poems   Only One Garden I thought “Come into my garden” was...

I’m awed by the iridescent beauty of the smallest bees that pollinate them and by the antics of male carpenter bees, the zeppelins of the bee world, guarding their vibrant patch of sweetness. Except that I planted most of those flowers, I’m as irrelevant to these insects as I am to the stars I gape at on clear nights.

In the nano-second before I consciously register a sunset or spring’s first bleeding heart or the image in a favorite poem, there’s a visceral reaction that precedes my brain’s focusing.

  Karen Petersen – Four Poems For My Late Friend, Who I Knew For 52 Years Last night I...

It is the inner flame within, a rapport between me and my surroundings, a mellifluous word or whisper that regales my ears, a tactile thrill, a scent that lingers in my nostrils, the taste of success after so many disappointments, an equilibrium of wills.

One desires the beautiful because one develops a taste for beauty, and all the senses to perceive it become finer and finer, to enjoy the pleasures of beauty for its own sake.

Wally Swist – Five Poems The Rapture 1. The 28th of October, a Sunday, and we have just...

Beauty — that ephemeral being that so often exists beyond words, in transcendence of our ability to fully describe, that something that lies just beyond our grasp, teasing us with moments of startling truth

I am still stumbling over beauty, and I believe all the beauties of this world are simply shadows of God.  In the natural world, I hear echoes of Beauty. In my poetry, I explore the echoes as well as a Tune I can’t wait to hear fully.

Beauty is both an expression of the gorgeous and the terrible, a reflection of the way in which nature works

Poetry is the essence of beauty. The way sound, form and language all come together to create a subtle music through words while offering some kind of deep meaning that changes how we view the world in some way, no matter how small.

I believe we are here to connect and to be beacons of light, refracting goodness in the world.

Beauty is a museum-quiet stillness that allows all our senses to fully bestow a sense of calm, clarity, charity and empathy, on ourselves and hopefully on others.

Like musicians, poets need to practice the “repertoire” by learning and knowing it.

I believe that the best writing explores or celebrates the beautiful and meaningful elements of life.

A person, or a place, or an experience, that helps me to believe – just for a moment – that everything will be alright.

Beauty is the call that awaits a response.