Beauty Poems | Examples of Beauty Poetry

Half past Summer, two months till Fall ...

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Beneath the moon's soft glow, a city thrives, Where ocean waves caress the sandy shore. In bustling markets, fresh-caught tuna lives, A testament to fishers' ancient lore. The beauty of nature surrounds us here, From rolling hills to palm trees swaying free. GenSan's spirit, both vibrant and sincere, Reflects the splendor of land, sky, and sea. ...

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Gazing at the cloudy sky, I could only sit and sigh. It was all that I had feared. The beautiful, airy face that appeared with quiet grace, then without a word or trace, so silently disappeared....

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Fragility is quite a strength just as the crucial bumblebees’ breath Perhaps not only titularly gentleness is stronger than severity . . . Channeling Emily Dickinson : To be a feather in a holocaust – hope, sewn in the soul, sings the song needed most A minor thought on regeneration : To regrow the leg the mantis lost – a marvel on...

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She walks in beauty, through the night, Where stars like blossoms burn so bright, The hush of dusk upon her hair, A ghost of moonlight trailing there. She does not speak, yet all is said In how she lifts her dreaming head— A lily tall amid the gloom, A hush within the heart of bloom. The shadows bend to let her pass, She stirs...

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Why is Sumner such a short time, just getting started then running into half past summer. July seems to be the half way mark, August is almost here. August will turn into September then into October, then fall will be here. Fall with cooler days, a pretty carpet of colorful leaves covering the ground....

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The Sun is pretty–Yes ,we know, It makes the sky and flowers glow. But look too long, and you will find, It's beauty scars. It's strikes you blind. We're taught to chase what shines the most, To the love ones who shine like ghosts. But not all gold is made to keep , some glitters loud and cuts too deep. Not...

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ART! He painted my death, With such dedication I've never seen before. Every stroke of his brush, on that paper, marking out each curve, twist, and turn my body made As I writhed in pain. Premeditated murder, or a death masquerading as suicide, or perhaps just an unlucky soul. My hands on my throat as I choked to death, He didn't...

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My twin was delusional, he thought he was a star He told me people recognized him, near and far Strangers gave him thumbs up, pretty women smiled Within him they saw the soul of a child. I said "Jerry, no offense, you are poor at conversation People yawn, go away, for the dialog duration You lack warmth, enthusiasm, any vital spark You're...

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The beauty of your life is so easy to see, In the colors and lines of your symmetry. After a time with the tree of your life, Severed from your stem by the wind as a knife. To ride the wind and swirl to the ground, To please another as your beauty is found. I can see in your color a...

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Kindred Spirit Mirrored reflections ingrained in our fate , Her thoughts shining inward designed to sedate , Heart beats sings softly with thunderous tunes, Storms infiltrate morning as we strive to assume, Relentless intentions meant to keep us immune, We stare at the full moon it’s light our cocoon. So travel so softly & reach for the stars , Our fiercest intentions...

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Does he like black girls Or does he like the idea of the swirl Does he like black girls Or does he only like type two and three curls Does he like black girls Or does he want bragging rights Does he like black girls Or does he just want a turn Does he like black girls Or does he want...

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The grass waved hello the birds called back. Telegraph poles stood still like tall slender trees. the birds liked that. the crickets a constant tickle in the ear, swathes of brown grass bouncing back after drought, three troughs haphazard on a patch without any grass. Bare dark earth. the raven makes its cry under a bright grey sky, on a swampy, sweaty day . my dog...

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Inspired by the 2024 U.S. "Cosmic Cliffs" stamp (Scott #5828), featuring a James Webb Space Telescope image of the Carina Nebula. Dune d r o ...

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His voice was near, his hands were far Porcelain and coated in paint I was revered, my skin unmarked By the artist disguised as the saint But the muse knows not, how one perceives She exists in and of the mind No more than a thought, no need to deceive She herself might as well be...

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