Best Imperfection Poems
"Dead leaves lay still, even the last flower is withered: yet there is a beauty in decayed imperfection." Taken from a quote by _Constance La France
On an orbital rotation around our planet every day, nothing stays the same. We change our surroundings change, our thoughts change, constantly evolving into what we are and what we will be tomorrow.
Everything changes. Some things grow bigger or older, some are renewed, restored or replaced, some break or decay. Nothing stays exactly the same. Therefore we are never finished changing. As it was intended, or broken, still nothing is perfect forever. Regrettably Rolls Royce rust.
Aren’t you ashamed of me?”, said the pot with the crack.
“Every day you carry me, yet I only bring half the water back.”
The old woman replied. ”Didn’t you notice I carry you on the same side?
You do a great job and I always carry you with much pride.
You see every day, as I walk back you water each flower.
All these beautiful flowers are because of you."
Knowing a fault and making use of it, not alienating the item because of its fault but accentuating it, creates joy.
"When you were perfect, I loved you when you were not, I loved you more.”
The old woman kept the withered pressed bouquet, it’s in a box displayed on the shelf. From their wedding day, glorious red roses, now in decay. She smiles as she remembers its beauty and that of herself.
The flowers she kept, emphasizing their imperfections caused by age, give her joy.
She loved them when they were perfect, their beauty actually means more to her now that they are not perfect, as their remnants have lasted all these years.
All things must be looked upon as spiritually one and of use either aesthetically or practically, (or able to be recycled).
Beauty in Imperfection - A collaboration with Iris Blade
I got too close to the masterpiece
And realized it was cracked
Blemishes and scars
Memories and sorrow
I stared as the brushstrokes reflected
fault lines in reverse images
slicing and carving,
desires and dreams
And I silently waited
For the broken frame
For the cracked canvas
To whisper their story
To give the answers to my questions
Because I no longer knew
What was beautiful
And what was not.
Yet still I gaze intently,
mesmerized by the vision I find
Could it be that life is hidden within
this portrait that seems so oddly familiar
Where an easel supports
Not only a work of unexplained reason,
But a deeper meaning
In all that I see
Beauty behind brushstrokes
Not perfection but
Affection
Love behind scarred lines in blue
And this one painting
Has shown me what I know
And what I want to
Beauty resides in imperfection.
Blemishes I see upon my body
Destroying my own temple
Could it be that simple
Damned to dream
and not sleep
As so it seem
and soon I will reap
From my own hands the cuts
Showing the pain in my soul
Tarnished it would be
if it was up to me
Unable to separate from what you see
My mind waiting for the day
I could leave as me
All my flaws already known and shown
Could this be green with envy
Head down
with nothing to say
No ones perfect
Imperfection he seeks
the down and out
He would show peace
I’m perfectly imperfect,
And to busy for the tears.
Losing my best friend,
Has had me twisted up for years.
·
I’m perfectly imperfect,
On my life’s winding road.
Finding the grace of God,
Helped me to lighten the load.
·
I’m perfectly imperfect,
The way God made me to be.
Through Him, I’ve untwisted myself,
And massage my soul with poetry.
·
I’m perfectly imperfect,
Set free by my Divine connection.
Through Him, I help you,
With my perfect imperfection.
_______________________
Written for Michael Jordan's
'Lets Get Untwisted' Contest
What haunted me the most, was the myth of clean.
Soap with its pale arrogance, its perfume of forgiveness.
Water pretending to be neutral, pretending it could rinse a history.
As if purity were mechanical.
As if turning a handle could unmake a person.
As if the stain were not the self.
sweet imperfection
random beauty out of line
wrongness is so right
(April 6, 2011 Wausau, Wisconsin)
(c) Copyright 2011 by Christine A Kysely, All Rights Reserved
The rugged bark of an old tree
with imperfection due to its cracks
is a wondrous thing of beauty
and it's the imperfection that attracts
We know that a star-shaped flower
does not make a perfect star
Yet it has a certain loveliness
that induces a sense of wonder
A hand-crafted ceramic bowl
because of its asymmetry
is a wonderful artefact
that is valued very highly
An old-time cobblestone street
has a unique charm and quaintness
due to its imprecise pattern
that gives it its loveliness
Perfection is not easy to attain
and even more difficult to sustain
Beauty lies in Imperfection
and they are a natural combination
Beauty is in the eye of the beholder
And you said I was beautiful to you
But you never said when it would be over
Or how soon we would be through
Perfection is what you’re looking for
And of course it’s plain to see
Perfection is what you want and more
And that just can’t be me
You should take a look in the mirror
And get a good look at yourself
Maybe that will make things clearer
Maybe you’ll see how I felt
When you told me I wasn’t the one for you
I wasn’t the perfection that you sought
I prayed for days that it wasn’t true
And I wished on every star that we hadn’t fought
But I guess my efforts were in vain
Perfection is too important to you
Though you still care for me you claim
I guess it’s just not enough for you
You know you’re not perfect
I don’t know why you want that from me
In my eyes you were as close to perfect
As anyone could ever be
But now I’ll be waiting for the day
When I’m good enough to be your selection
But to me you will always be in every way
My perfect imperfection
Why shouldn't beautiful truth be felt profoundly and seen clearly,
not as perceived in a mirror fogged up by imperfection and pretense?
What we fearfully hide from ourselves: is conspiuous pity!
We lie to embellish what is ugly and deceitful,
but the unpleasant feeling doesn't become evident
until we realize how untrue we have been to all!
So why create something that is rooted in lies,
when honesty can break the bond of hidden bitterness,
not to confound and deceive others with fake smiles?
Cleanse yourself of impurity, look for a guiding light
with anxious eyes and a rejoicing heart by loving godly;
and if more stars shine, why be afraid of a dark night?
Now the darkness has been lifted from your existence,
and hopes of finding joy never vanish when truth is upheld...
look into a mirrow not fogged up by imperfection and pretense!
how many stab wounds
until pacified with death
such human error
The pain of looking in a mirror and seeing
a reflect that ought to be imperfect,
Lord it looks disturbing...
I cant even tell if the girl i see is me...
The shadows cloak my heart
They creep in from my past
The guilt, the pain, the shame and all those mistakes that turn out to be regrets...
But really that is just part of the start...
I contain only little charm
I give best the gift of harm
Maybe that's what it really is to be human.
This imperfection i cant equal
I could be rated evil,
But the blame cant be placed on my ego
Its because sometimes i just cant compare whats good from evil
I long to heal though
So u must know its perfection that i seek
I have been trying to fit in for ages
Flipping off the pages, am so tired of faking
I may flip, am a freak and i could be really creepy
But this girl is really me.....
You can either love me, or leave me,
I wont lose it because this is who i really am,
a perfection of imperfection.....
The perfection that i sought
Made me learn quite a lot,
i will never stay the same, yes i may not even win this game..
of being so perfect
But truth be told,
Av learnt that imperfection is where perfection lies....????????????
In the endless void of night,
Giant shadows take the fight
Into the realm of intuition,
Setting wrecks of reason free,
Drugs and dreams, no guarantee
To shrink the risk of retribution.
And as the fog of dawn descends,
It seeds nocturnal odds and ends
With fatigue, the all pervasive
Early morning wrapping paper,
Shoebox lovers, home escapers,
Weathered vanes become evasive.
Artists rescue broken crosses,
Resurrecting heartfelt losses,
Carried in the undertow
Of tidal force, the giver takers,
Guided to the hands of nature,
Repairers of the ebb and flow,
Morning walkers, wolves and crows,
The stillness of their yoga pose,
All belong and have connection,
We know it, but it surely must,
Go around and return with trust,
The iconic cross of imperfection.
Amidst shattered hues, they stay alive,
Broken crayons, yet they thrive.
Purple persists in its royal grace,
Pink too, in its delicate embrace.
Shorter, yes, and somewhat marred,
Yet each color, its essence unscarred.
A tapestry woven, albeit frail,
In their imperfection, they unveil.
Awkward they feel, in a trembling hand,
Difficult to sharpen, to understand.
Yet in their struggle, a lesson learned,
To cherish each moment, each color earned.
Through the scribbles and the lines,
A masterpiece, against all confines.
A star awarded, a testament true,
In every stroke, their resilience anew.
An A+ gleams, a testament bright,
In the world of hues, they shine with might.
For in their fractures, a beauty found,
Broken crayons, still coloring profound.
One, two strokes of my pen touch my paper,
Resurrecting dreams vanquished in despair
and with a glance I discern the imperfection in my work.
With a smile I show reverence for my imperfection
For it is what makes me who I am,
what makes diversity possible,
what makes life more meaningful and purposeful.
Imperfection is such a beautiful thing
Perfection lacks originality
Mastery is not the absence of mistakes,
but using those mistakes to your advantage
Those who strive for perfection
Will only waste their time and fail.
While those who embrace their imperfection
Are bound to succeed
aye savor the faire genetic blueprint
extant unique to each of us
with this quite alimentary aire
including (that almighty,
bottom, cushiony, dimpled,
excretory functioning Gluteus Maximus
i.e. the tushy when bare
with subtle difference sans,
both halves at first blush,
but tucks upon closer scrutiny
obvious inexactness crystal clear
as a bell jar, asper each body electric,
whence deserved of en dear
ments despite however much junk in the trunk
behind the private
no trespassing (non verbalized)
signs posted everywhere
off limits only to a select few like this bard
attired as if from the Renaissance Faire
whose unconditional acceptance
unlike the majority hoo gawk and glare
if bipedal hominid dealt
chromosomal traits say with excessive hair
which mane of tangled strands,
could be problematic and interfere
with coaxing, finagling,
or inducing friendship with an initial jeer
from him or her averse
toward such imperfection to boot
huff lawed physical human specimen
such as this ole coot
(who haint really that old),
can upon command execute
a feigned display
and appealing as fresh field picked fruit
at this stage of ma life
donut give a rats ass, nor an owlish hoot
what other may decry about me,
cuz self acceptance doth agree
buzzing with greater confidence, esteem,
and general weaknesses such
as lack of physiognomy incongruent cee,
which asymmetry of this primate feel free
er than his pre/post pubescent
corporeal essence he
near put himself in the hand
of that grim reaper, a key
poor of lifeless beings,
and well nigh got hold da mee
when in the throes up
(vis a vis not bulimia) on Swiss side prithee
and as a solitary mwm gives no re
guard no matter others may find fault
in the stars at my lack of sim mutt tree
gnome hatter judgements made
I accept mice elf warts and all – yippee!