EXERCISE Poem Challenge: Beauty

Discussion in 'REFINING WRITING' started by Melon, Dec 31, 2014.

  1. Beauty is viewed in different ways by different people. How do you perceive beauty, and how is it significant to you? In this challenge, you will make a poem on what the definition of beauty is to you.

    Here is an example on how I view beauty:

    Beauty

    Beauty is something we all desire
    But is it really as it appears to be?

    Beauty is that old woman walking with a cane, still trying
    Beauty is that little deaf boy, the one who loves to sing

    Beauty is not what we think it is

    Beauty is the man with leukemia, his smile fading, but still there
    Beauty is the woman with the burns all over, her eyes still bright

    Beauty is not what we think it is

    Beauty is the complete opposite of outward appearance.
    Beauty is the joy, kindess, innocence, and perseverance that resides in us all.

    ~~~~~~~~~~~~

    This poem can be as short or as long as you want it to be. It can be simple, like mine, or you can go into detail.
     
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  2. (I normally don't write poems because I essentially can't write poems but I wanted to give this a shot. c:)

    The feeling of soft sand between your toes,
    the sun beating down upon you
    warming your body,
    the joy of imagining
    and feeling love and grace.

    The hot chocolate on a cold winter's night,
    waking up from a nap
    and enjoying the feeling of being refreshed,
    being able to be grateful
    for that roof over your head and food on your plate.

    Knowing that even some items
    can cause accidents,
    leading to pain and emotional suffering,
    and knowing that even people
    can turn against you and break you down,
    there is still that one chance of happiness,
    in a long sea of risk.

    Even then,
    you still live life,
    because it is not life itself that keeps you here,
    but the beauty
    that is all around us.

    Beauty is not always within humans,
    the sand,
    the sun,
    imagining,
    feeling,
    winter,
    warmness,
    gratefulness,
    accidents,
    suffering,
    heartbreak,
    risk,
    it's all beautiful,
    for beauty is all around us,
    in ever depressing corner and every suffering crevasse...
    but it takes a beautiful person
    to find the beauty.
     
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  3. Its a pretty old poem that has some elements of described beauty in it.

    Artisan Woes

    She’s like a portrait
    A divine illustration
    Changing of the feelings that I’m facing
    I look towards her ink and feel bleak
    Someone this unique might be out of my reach
    And so I write with my pen
    about this missed opportunity again
    It’s sad I can’t erase that thoughts she sketched in my mind
    Each shade decadently sublimed and aligned
    Each day a little of the thought fades
    But still you would think I was a stencil
    Ready to be made to what she was into
    But in the end…
    When I finished the picture that was my thought pattern
    I realized she was low to earth and I was more from Saturn
    Lost images of depression that could make the m.o.m.a.
    I thought I graduated but I had a blank diploma
    You know like the ones they hand you on stage
    I look at myself in the mirror and feel enraged
    I see failed love plots in ink blots
    And no trophies in the curio
    Maybe she would have liked me I’ll never know
    Honestly I wish she had brushed me off
    Maybe my soul would be over these artisan woes
    My mind conflicts with these styles where no one goes
    and yet to people I have yet to make this side exposed
     
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  4. Beauty Personified
    by Isaac James Flores

    Beauty was his smile.
    It was the way he threw his head back as he laughed.
    O, how his features did beguile,
    two hearts became one--found the other half.

    Beauty was his passion,
    so true and so pure.
    We danced under the stars in a grand fashion.
    Of true love, I was sure.

    Beauty was his commitment.
    As our shadows stretched across the sand,
    my hearts grew distant,
    and I no longer sought his hand.

    Beauty was his persistence,
    refusing to let me go.
    I just needed some distance,
    and he pleaded, "No, baby, no!"

    Beauty was his patience.
    He brushed lightly against my tremulous heart.
    His strokes moved with insistence
    on healing what had been injured from the start.

    Beauty was his forgiveness,
    Unfaltering and open-armed.
    He accepted me back with swiftness,
    the origin of so much harm.

    Beauty was his loyalty.
    He always chose to walk at my pace.
    Everything was finally as it was supposed to be,
    but I noticed something in his changing face.

    Beauty was his strength,
    amid the rush of busy doctors in busier offices.
    He never let me lose faith,
    even when the words they spoke made me nauseous.

    Beauty is his memory.
    It is all of these things combined,
    which were recognized post-humously.
    Nothing good is appreciated in its time.

    The leaves fall languidly at this headstone I sit by,
    as I murmur, sadly, "He was beauty."
    He was beauty
    personified.

    Note: This is fictional. I usually don't write rhyming poetry because I find it constrictive, but I found it effective for conveying symbolism in this particular piece. I can only hope that, when I am old, I will have something this grand to write about. Hope that you enjoyed reading it.
     
    #4 Arlathina, Jan 8, 2015
    Last edited: Jan 8, 2015
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  5. She was considered to be beauty itself
    She never hid her face
    The hair that she had upon her head
    Would curl with beauty and grace

    Every mark upon her face
    Tooth, freckle, lash
    Seemed to make money
    Filling souls with cash

    She never really did mind
    And she never understood
    How people thought of her
    And how they should

    Her outside face mattered
    Not the inside soul she had
    "Sit alone count your fears"
    Her mind was blank like a notebook pad

    They told her to be herself
    Don't rely on outside looks


    LOL, I didn't get to finish this.
     
  6. (Mehh, I made it freeverse, and it's always one word longer than the last line, until the 16th line, where it becomes one word shorter than the previous line.)

    Beautifully,
    she stands,
    with a smile,
    that lights the room.
    Her dark days have gone,
    With reminders etched in her arms,
    of the memories and the depressing days.
    Her eyes glitter with a radiance that came when,
    the beauty of life taught her how to smile.
    She moves through her days, appreciating each speck of beauty,
    in the cruel world that humanity was destined to live within.
    One morning, she received a call, from the hospital, about her grandmother,
    who was diagnosed with a rare form of cancer, doomed to pass quite soon.
    She was about to relapse into her darkest days by her fading grandmother's side,
    when the condemned woman stopped her from beginning again, to say something very special about the world.
    "My dear granddaughter, don't cry for me. I must tell you something before I leave."
    "Grandmother... What do you have to tell me?" She sniffled through shining, bitter tears.
    "Appreciate the beauty of life. Don't let the words of others impact you."
    "Grandmother, I already know." The granddaughter lied, thinking of the razor's edge.
    "I know you don't. Don't cut, don't cry, smile, and stand tall."
    "Why're you telling me this? I'm fine, I'm telling you!"
    "I'm telling you because, I've been in your position."
    "Y-You what?" She said, surprised at her grandmother.
    "Appreciate the beauty in life, and live peacefully."
    "That's it...? Grandmother... I'll do it."
    "Thank you... My sweet little granddaughter."
    After that moment of enlightenment,
    She began to smile,
    as breathtakingly as,
    the beautiful,
    world.
     
  7. A gentle caress,
    A faint breath.
    A soft kiss, a tight embrace,
    Beauty in a touch or beauty in a face.
    A sunset, a fire, beauty and desire,
    Beauty lifts the heart higher and higher.
    It may be apparent maybe just a trace,
    But when found, beauty is an angel's choir.