My Words

Understanding the World through words

Tag: Beauty

Aphorism Art

In art:
we need to see the
beauty in the ugly,
the common, and
the down-trodden.

Emerald Green Moss-Poem

The weather was dreary and cold, the way winter feels midway.
It’s chilly and a bit windy, all I could think is, “I should of just stayed in bed.”
“At least it was warm and toasty, sleepy,” Now I’m outdoors and the leaves have been
dead, swept and picked up by those huge revolving street cleaning trucks. Instead of seeing beauty, all the trees are bare, naked, branchy silhouettes. They have a nightmarish quality, something Tim Burton would appreciate. And the sky is full of grey claustrophobic clouds, moist, not letting the sun peak through. The streets are wet from a mixture of dew and rain, they’re shiny, glistening, slick. I’m needing the comfort of caffeine, something warm and caramelly, soothing. Something that will perk me up, something that will make my headache go away. The cold seeps in through my pants right around my knees and my converse sneakers are feeling the dampness of the street. I’m feeling underdressed, sluggish, cold as I walk towards the coffeeshop. I walk with my head down trying not to expose my bare neck to the elements, that’s when I see the crack in the pavement, it’s deep and long, it runs all the way through the parking lot. In between the crack, there’s a filament of emerald green moss, resplendent, alive.
My thought turns to poetry:
Like moss that grows in between blackened cracks in the road—
you need to see beauty in the ordinary.
Beauty is everywhere, hidden sometimes from plain view,
from the uninitiated, but it’s there…
Beauty, life, love
surrounds us,
shows up in unexpected places and sometimes if we’re lucky, we catch a glimpse of it.
As I walked into the coffeeshop, the sun finally peaked through the clouds that had formed in mind,
It felt reassuring, warm like a shamanistic dance of gratitude, even though my feet were still cold, my heart was aflame–I smiled at the barista and ordered my hot caramel topped libation to go.

Dreamscape-Poem

I wear lots of clothes,
I try to hide my nakedness—
I sleep with a warm flannel shirt.

I’m not cold anymore.
I run around in cities unsure
of where and who I am?

But, I’m familiar with the streetlights,
the vehicles, the comfort of plush
pillows and quiet talk.

I see the cloudy sky
and the concrete pavement below,
I hear the tic-toc of leather shoes, of
people going to-and-fro.

I clean the facade of a brick castle,
but can’t understand the complexity
of a menial ladder—
to reach the high places
so far above.

I’m overrun by the beauty
behind the pane-glass window,
the view of mountains pristine—
are visions of this world
captured subconsciously.

I wake myself up and reach for your
body, to feel if you’re there,
only emptiness…
only my sluggish thoughts—
and the desire to fall back asleep,
to land at that selfsame spot.

Learning To See-Poem

I’ve returned to my childhood neighborhood.
Walking the streets again,
remembering the places
where I had my first special experiences. The place
where I held my first girlfriends hand,
it’s the area where I had my first sweet kiss.
They’re beautiful memories that come back-to-mind.

It’s sunny outside and
I’m smitten by the way the sunlight
dances off your lavender shutter doors,
I’d never seen it, even though I must
have walked this certain path hundreds of times before.

I’m older now, now I stop to notice a little bit longer,
I’m cautious with special moments, I savor
them, I’m making up for the brashness of my youth.
I didn’t have the maturity to stop and look when I was young,
to really observe the beauty of life;

But now, I notice how the sun changes your lavender shutters
to a dusty rose hue, In a split second, I stop to take-it-in,
it’s exhilarating, a special convocation of beauty
found in the simplest of things.

Now, I turn and see how a verdant
green maple leaf is slightly motioned
by the sway of wind and the leaf turns
from its original color to a beautiful cerulean blue.
Everything is in slow motion, magnificent and sublime–
in my old neighborhood
I’m learning to see one more time.

Beauty’s Touch

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Darkness And Beauty

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New Flowers

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You said to me, “that the past is all I have.”

I responded:
Memories are like fragrances
We never forget.

I look forward
To smelling new flowers
I haven’t smelled yet.

There are beautiful gardens I haven’t strolled through.

A wise man said,
“Life has more to offer than you’ll ever know.”

Beauty And Dismay | The Dance Of Life

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One morning I woke up
My father was no
longer with Me.

I could no longer hold
his hand or hear
his voice in the
land of the living.

The realization hit me,
death had
become plausible, a
tangible reality.

Questions about immortality—
The idea of eternity,
I couldn’t shake
Off anymore.

Would I see my father again?

What does eternity mean?

Was heaven made for men?

Can a subtle change
in thought, in that
Eternal place
make a difference
in ones life?

One day in eternity
matters not
When it has no end
or no consequences!

That’s why:

We live in fear of death,
Because death is a
constant hourglass.

We live in fear of death,
Because every subtle decision
We make has a result.

We live in fear of death,
Because it reminds us of the
Plan we won’t be able to realize.

It is only through the
understanding of
death and only death,
that we comprehend

The dance between
Beauty and dismay.

In Loving Memory of Alice

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When I think on Alice:

I see determination

And love in her eyes.

Her confidence, unshakable—

Knowing that God was on her side.

Her love for flowers and

Hugs, she affectionately shared.

Even if she didn’t know you,

She’d kiss your cheek and

Make you feel loved.

Alice, could see beauty in

The most forlorn places.

To search out the

Positive in life is

her lasting heirloom.

On Beauty

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We are always trying
to define beauty.

My gosh, there is even
a discipline dedicated
to its studies.

I studied aesthetics,
art, the philosophy
of each one.

I’m still not adept
at defining beauty.

I know when I see it,
hear it, or touch it.

but the definition of it.

That one is mine.