What Is Beauty?

What Is Beauty? long poem

Photo by Paul Keller

What is beauty?

Is it on a cloudless night, when every star
that has ever lived is in the sky,
in your and only your sight,
and it’s nothing you have ever seen before?

Is it when the sun neither rises nor sets,
and the sky is an array
of reds and pinks and oranges
and it is neither day nor night
and if you are in the right place,
it’s quiet enough to hear a pen
drop onto the blank the pavement?

Is it when you have put on that floor length dress
with the rhinestones and the glitter fabric that you
spent months saving up for, hoping that your companion
at the moment will like it and want to later take it off of you?

Is it when you spend hours perfecting your makeup,
like an artist would with a canvas and paint,
hoping that you’ll look amazing and will have the attention
of every male or female in the room to replace the attention
you were so cruelly denied in the home you were raised?

Is it in the theatre, when the violins begin to play,
and that eerie feeling is in the air, either being
serene calmness or strange unrest as you find yourself
lost in the talent of whoever is playing for that night?

Is it in the spring flowers that struggle to bloom,
through the cruelty of humanity and all those around it?

Beauty is nothing but a word,
a word created for description,
and aren’t there other words to
use for the description of things?

But if it were more than a word to anyone,
it should be considered the eye of the beholder.
something no one seems to understand.

Rate the poem
1 Star2 Stars3 Stars4 Stars5 Stars (1 votes, average: 3.00 out of 5)
We are posting your rating...

Have something to say about the poem?

Alex Whalen

Signup / Login to follow the poet.
I'm just an angst filled teenager who happens to write a little poetry here and there.
Poems you will love

Give your feedback / review for the poem

Be the First to Comment & Review poem!

Notify of

What Asylum!

What Asylum! short poem

Come and meet me in chamber of death where the tempest comes every night. I start disrobing the anger to find the eye of the moon. Where do I get that ink that writes an unwritten poem on water of

What We Feel Is True…

What We Feel Is True... short poem

I am an orphan, I think of my parents often, I hope that they are alive, But why they left me aside? They left me with a purpose, Or lost me in a ambush, All I want to know, Is

What’s The Difference?

Whats The Difference? long poem

The legato of language and lingo, The dance of diction and dialect — Have you ever considered the difference A little letter or two can effect? Texture of tense, Savor of sense, The nuance in a sentence — What’s really

What He Is? (part 2)

What He Is? (part 2) short poem

He is the unreadable art of my poem… He is mine cold air in this hot summer… His voice is my favourite… Without hearing him i am deaf… Without seen him i am blind… He always try to make me


Beauty short poem

Beauty Careful as I got, paying heed to the sculpture With such finesse, and an eye of a vulture Every peculiarity went on to depict a story Incarnating legends, of the war that was gory Over the period beauty stood