A Taste Of Beauy

Beauty is childhood, 

Sparkling eyes, 

And small quivering lips.

It is the sound of love, 

And taste of fear, 

Cold, hard, and unforgettable.

Beauty is sharp and stinging, 

Deadly, and delicious, 

Ringing in the emptiness of clean white rooms.

Bold and sweet, 

It flutters on the tip of your tongue.

Beauty is harsh, 

Rugged, and tough, 

Like giant scar faced rocks at the pale sea's edge.

It is silver, 

Silent, 

And disobedient.

The mysterious, teasing, immortal stars

Gliding across the universe.

Caged, quiet, chameleon 

Climbing with patience, 

Struggling unannounced in the back of your garden, 

Lovingly licking scratchy brown bark.

Old dead corpses, 

Planted in the ground like seeds,

And bitter-sweet memories.

SIlent mourning mothers, 

Tears squeezed into the deep lines of their faces, 

Looking down.

Beauty is the beat of a heart, 

Moan of the throat, 

Hot flushed skin,

And Lovers entwined, like roots, 

Gazing at the thought of eternity through the purple sky, 

Losing sight of life.

Beauty is the dew hugging on grass, 

As it's blazed by the sunshine of morning, 

Glistening diamonds.

It is big teeth 

Laughing heartily in the dead of winter, 

Leaving smudges of fog to stain the air.

Frozen fingers.

Melting snow.

Birds bathing in the shallow grey pools of spring.

Beauty is the rain dancing on quenched tin roofs, 

Pools of water, 

And yellow muddy boots smelling of warm smiles.

Beauty is fierce and cruel.

Crackling watchful dolls, 

Distorted images, 

And shatterd icy mirrors.

Giggling old men, 

Standing among the crowd, 

Chatting cheerfully, with pink chapped lips,

And blushing cheeks.

It is the soft tenderness of fat.

A wedding cake 

Slightly crooked, laughing at itself.

It is a thought. 

A feeling, 

And an action.

Big blue trees stamping the air with their kisses.

And the red leaves of fall crackling slowly in the song of the breeze.

Beauty is old perfume and cinnamon.

Lost peppermint candies stuck to the sidewalk, 

For-granted pennies tossed aside, 

And bags dancing in the wind down empty hallways.

Tumbleweeds.

Ancient, rusty cars tangled amidst lush Amazonian jungles.

And tight bare muscles rippling in the light of midday, seeking approval.

Beauty is broken red bricks and bruises.

Scraggly rambunctious weeds,

Fighting for their lives on the side of the road.

Beauty is perfect balls of steaming sticky rice, 

Tie-dyed in soy-sauce syrup.

Braces and bloodied lips after a fight.

And a shattered glass vase on a new red carpet.

Chocolate and milky swirls.

Pregnant women, loud and vibrant.

And the rainbow prisms shimmering on the side of their baby's crib.

A blind man smiling, playing with his child.

And heavily painted eyes with torn shoes.

Beauty is big, strong, and courageous.

Endless shouts of joy 

And echoing exclamations.

The quaking of still water as stones skip upon the surface.

Beauty is, in fact, whatever you will it. 

Reviews

[Perfume]

Each line is a new image. Most of them related.
I felt it lost its way toward the middle, and turned, but gently, from then on into something ulterior. But the honesty held strong.
There is a theme, however, a consistency. All of this beauty is yours. As the reader, we can share in what is familiar, but the pieces that aren't, become a beautiful foreign concept. Almost as if you're showing us what we're missing out on. You show us yourself, here. Because, this is deeply personal. Your eyes are closing on it, allowing the reader to be your guide dog. And it was truly a very cool experience.

I don't think it was too long. It fits itself, if that makes sense. I think people just have short attention spans when it comes to review based websites. You know?
Keep this the way it is. I can't imagine lopping off any bit of it. That would be a tragedy. :]

[Vincent Esprit FMI]

It is an excellent wrrite you amy want to remove the brackets another possible ending could just simply be "Bueaty is." I admire your detemination and your point of focus as you brought out this piece. It leads one easily in and out of this mediation on beauty. Very well done!

regards,
Vincnet

[Rachel U.]

Damn. There's so much to this; that makes it very difficult to critique. As previously mentioned by another review, "each line is a new image." So true. Regardless, it still flowed together fairly well (you're in luck, I love verbose poems). You have several typos sprinkled throughout, but the content itself is fantabulous, if I may say so. Plug it into a Word document - that should catch most of the technical mistakes.

9.5/10

[Aimee Mahathy]

Oh but I enjoyed this!
The very end is brilliant. As you lead us through so many images, and all of them indeed beautiful, we might wonder what the point is... and there it is. And how true it is! I think, it all depends in how you view things.
Like, my favourite thing to do is to get drunk and observe everything in the most minute detail. It's as though everything becomes a metaphor! The cup sitting next to me is beautiful. It's beautiful because the color is chipping off, a sign that it is well used. It's beautiful because it's sitting right in front of the computer speaker, almost as if it's listening too.
Most people might think nothing of it, but it's beautiful~
Just like this poem :]

[Katerina C]

This has to be without any doubt a truly beautiful, amazing, one of the best done poems EVER. If this doesnt make it to the nationals Im gunu have to kill. I have to say my favorite part of this whole poem is "A shattered glass vase on a new red carpet." and "Pregnate women, loud and vibrant. A blind man smiling, playing with his child." very visual, very well done, very strong.

[AnthonyBrumley]

"Frozen fingures, melting snow"
It seemed I could close my eye's and feel it myself.
Great Imagery

[larryb]

Yes long but well written :)

[Stephen Scaggs]

'tis is a bit long, but that's quite alright. :D In your title, I think you have too many periods. A personal bit of opinion is that you put this poem in to stanza. I loved the metaphors that are too many to numerate speaking of a very honest truth. Even though it is a bit long, I can still read into it clearly. You're a very talented writer and that trait will continue growing as you write.

Also, I'd like to note that I love the quick, short lines "Empty hallways," "tumbleweeds," "melting snow." I see a few grammatical errors, but other than that, the overall meaning is summed up in the bottom line "Beauty is whatever you make it." Good job!! 9.7/10.

S. W. Scaggs