Treasure Island

Yaritza Florencio

(New Rochelle)

What Is Beauty?


Beauty is the weather,
Beauties in the rain,
Beauty is his smile
Beauty is insane.

Beauty needs no explanation
No reason of being there
Beauty is his love for you
He’s the one that’s always there

Beauty is his talent
One of many blessings
His smile is beauty in pure form
At least that’s what in guessing

His beauty is my addiction
His laugh my obsession
His eyes are my kryptonite
He’s the drug I must take without succession

Without him I’m hopeless
Like an alcoholic without drink
There’s nothing I can do without him
He’s my one and only shrink

Beauty is the weather,
Beauties in the rain,
Beauty is his smile
Beauty is insane.

Submitted: Sunday, May 20, 2007
Edited: Monday, February 28, 2011

Do you like this poem?
0 person liked.
0 person did not like.

Read this poem in other languages

This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.

I would like to translate this poem »

word flags

What do you think this poem is about?

Comments about this poem (What Is Beauty? by Yaritza Florencio )

Enter the verification code :

Read all 1 comments »

Top Poems

  1. Phenomenal Woman
    Maya Angelou
  2. The Road Not Taken
    Robert Frost
  3. If You Forget Me
    Pablo Neruda
  4. Still I Rise
    Maya Angelou
  5. Dreams
    Langston Hughes
  6. Annabel Lee
    Edgar Allan Poe
  7. If
    Rudyard Kipling
  8. A Dream Within A Dream
    Edgar Allan Poe
  9. Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
    Robert Frost
  10. I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings
    Maya Angelou

PoemHunter.com Updates

New Poems

  1. Collect Call to: F. J. Thomas..., Monk E. Biz
  2. Bed Time, Michael McParland
  3. Trepidation, Laura Milner
  4. Yes September, gajanan mishra
  5. A RAINING AFTER DROUGHT, Chinweokwu Sunlight M. Ndubu ..
  6. Illuminating, Mark Heathcote
  7. Over looking choice, Jessica Dehn
  8. The Wine Effect, I Am Krakatoa
  9. Light Foot xx xxx xx Original 12 28.., Lee Mack
  10. changing the world, Frederick J.B. Moore II

Poem of the Day

poet Helen Hunt Jackson

The month of carnival of all the year,
When Nature lets the wild earth go its way,
And spend whole seasons on a single day.
The spring-time holds her white and purple dear;
...... Read complete »

   
[Hata Bildir]