A Hint At What Is Beautiful?

Beautiful is the 'thank you' Wrapped with gratitude, Offered to peace prone people Who offer what is real-themselves To nurse with love and humility napalm asphyxiated victims in our stained world veiling ambition with face of humanity.Beautiful is the moment

My People

The night is beautiful, So the faces of my people. The stars are beautiful, So the eyes of my people. Beautiful, also, is the sun. Beautiful, also, are the souls of my people.

A Poet's Death Is His Life Iv

The dark wings of night enfolded the city upon which Nature had spread a pure white garment of snow; and men deserted the streets for their houses in search of warmth, while the north wind probed in contemplation of laying waste the gardens. There in the suburb stood an old hut heavily laden with snow and on the verge of falling. In a dark recess of that hovel was a poor bed in which a dying youth was lying, staring at the dim light of his oil lamp, made to flicker by the entering winds. He a man in the spring of life who foresaw fully that the peaceful hour of freeing himself from the clutches of life was fast nearing. He was awaiting Death's visit gratefully, and upon his pale face appeared the dawn of hope; and on his lops a sorrowful smile; and in his eyes forgiveness.

Beautiful!

Honesty is beautiful Kindness is beautiful Intelligence is beautiful Talent is beautiful Beautiful is a romance with such abundance Beautiful are the flowers that roam the earth Beautiful is awaking to the sound of singing birds Beautiful is a disguise Playing hide and seek inside and outside

Autumn Movement

I cried over beautiful things knowing no beautiful thing lasts. The field of cornflower yellow is a scarf at the neck of the copper sunburned woman, the mother of the year, the taker of seeds. The northwest wind comes and the yellow is torn full of holes, new beautiful things come in the first spit of snow on the northwest wind, and the old things go, not one lasts.

Less Time

Less time than it takes to say it, less tears than it takes to die; I've taken account of everything, there you have it. I've made a census of the stones, they are as numerous as my fingers and some others; I've distributed some pamphlets to the plants, but not all were willing to accept them. I've kept company with music for a second only and now I no longer know what to think of suicide, for if I ever want to part from myself, the exit is on this side and, I add mischievously, the entrance, the

Whats The Use Of A Title?

They don't make it the beautiful die in flame- suicide pills, rat poison, rope what- ever... they rip their arms off, throw themselves out of windows, they pull their eyes out of the sockets, reject love reject hate reject, reject.

Beautiful

I am beautiful Not only because of the curve of my hips Or the shape of my body Not only because of the fullness of my lips Or the curl of my eye lashes I am beautiful because I want to be I am beautiful because God made me that way I am beautiful because in my eyes There is no one more beautiful than me

Beautiful Women

Women sit, or move to and fro- some old, some young; The young are beautiful- but the old are more beautiful than the young.

Peace

A beautiful singing bird Imprisoned in a golden cage Waiting to be freed Since the hominoid age!

My Beautiful Flower

You are my flower you are my sweet soft petal hand in hand ...in my hand holding this precious gift the blossom of your beauty you are my beautiful flower You are my flower you are my sweet soft petal

An Epitaph

Here lies a most beautiful lady, Light of step and heart was she; I think she was the most beautiful lady That ever was in the West Country. But beauty vanishes, beauty passes; However rare - rare it be; And when I crumble,who will remember This lady of the West Country.

Beautiful City

Beautiful city Beautiful city, the centre and crater of European confusion, O you with your passionate shriek for the rights of an equal humanity, How often your Re-volution has proven but E-volution Roll'd again back on itself in the tides of a civic insanity!

A Beautiful Day

In the blue sky just a few specks of gray In the evening of a beautiful day Though last night it rained and more rain on the way And that more rain is needed 'twould be fair to say On a gum tree in the park the white backed magpie sing He sings all year round from the Summer to Spring But in late Winter and Spring he even sings at night So nice to hear him piping in the moonlight Spring it is with us and Summer is near And beautiful weather for the time of year

Fire On The Hills

The deer were bounding like blown leaves Under the smoke in front the roaring wave of the brush-fire; I thought of the smaller lives that were caught. Beauty is not always lovely; the fire was beautiful, the terror Of the deer was beautiful; and when I returned Down the back slopes after the fire had gone by, an eagle Was perched on the jag of a burnt pine, Insolent and gorged, cloaked in the folded storms of his shoulders He had come from far off for the good hunting With fire for his beater to drive the game; the sky was merciless

A Fragment

Beautiful star with the crimson lips And flagrant daffodil hair, Come back, come back, in the shaking ships O'er the much-overrated sea, To the hearts that are sick for thee With a woe worse than mal de mer- O beautiful stars with the crimson lips And the flagrant daffodil hair. - O ship that shakes on the desolate sea, Neath the flag of the wan White Star,

My Dove, My Beautiful One

My dove, my beautiful one, Arise, arise! The night-dew lies Upon my lips and eyes. The odorous winds are weaving A music of sighs: Arise, arise, My dove, my beautiful one!

A Beautiful Mask Of Smile!

Who has not crossed the bridge of emotions? Which keeps on flickering? Day and night like the beautiful stars Twinkling in the sky, Though not visible in bright sunlight It's like the mask of beautiful smiles, Covering the painful face. It's like a bird trapped in Cage sings a painful song

Tame Cat

It rests me to be among beautiful women Why should one always lie about such matters? I repeat: It rests me to converse with beautiful women Even though we talk nothing but nonsense, The purring of the invisible antennae Is both stimulating and delightful.

I Am In My Mother's Eyes

Oh Mother I am That daughter of yours Who you see as capable for every thing You dream your unrealised dreams Through my eyes You see me as one Who progresses ahead Setting aside all hurdles