"Beauty just is."

I have an 80's wooden plaque with a picture of an ocean somewhere and waves crashing on the rocks, written on the sky in the photo is the quote, "Beauty just is."
I believe it.  So should you. Whoever you are.  
I could pick apart the picture. But I won't.
                                                          ­          Don't look for ugly.

The quote was given credit to anonymous.  Deservedly so.
Anyone anywhere at anytime can recognize beauty.
This is not a duty, choose to be dutiful in all things beautiful.

There is lacquer over the picture to protect it. The lacquer makes it shine.
I find that part ironic, protecting the beauty from spills, unkind graffiti,
from any ugly thing that might happen to it.

That might mar the beauty.

It is not an easily recognizable coastline,
not a celebrity coastline
or a model coastline
or a physically outstanding coastline,
no archways of rocks
or large rocks
that have stood the test of time and erosion and wind and well, pollution.

"Beauty just is" so accept your beauty.  

I am not talking to your cat or my dog, the aquarium or the stable full of horses, all those animals do not measure life in terms of beauty, only we, humans do.  Animals do not judge anything on the basis of beauty, smell maybe, not necessarily good smells but strong smells, even odours.

Only we humans; also decry, put down,
use the word ugly
and write each other
off,
for not being beautiful.

But "beauty just is", beauty just is. Period.

If you are talking about a piece d'art and
you are going to shell out cash, from your stash,
make sure you buy something significantly important to you and beautiful.

As for another human being...

You have not the right or responsibility to say that someone is not beautiful.
I do not think there is
one person with the wisdom,
alive to recognize what makes
each of us beautiful.

Beauty just is, no parts, no assembly required, accept it, accept one another.

I know there are those that already get it.
I don't want them to read this and sweat it.

They don't need to. I want the bully to read this, out loud.
Beauty JUST IS. You might not get it, yet.
Keep rolling it thru your mind, a beautiful surprise awaits you.
Meditate on it.
Meditate on not the author of the quote, he is anonymous, but the Creator of beauty is not.
Be surprised, as this revelation once understood, will change your perspective on life,  after all you're beautiful too.

Originally done by © DWE 2011-5-11

Dog walks are good for many things,
she wishes I would, Everyday!
whatever the weather brings, night and day,
should suffice, to this hope she clings.

Alas and Woe,
there are days that I go out
without
her.

I reach and bend and bag what others
leave behind, take from the ground
and out of the grass;
candy wrappers,
plastic everything,
empty roll-up-the-rim cups,
and the ever present dangerous,
shards of glass.

Cigarette packages, no buts,
emptied envelopes, doggie bags (take out food)
and the other kind too!

Pack ‘em up.

Pick ‘em up

Who threw ‘em out?

There is no garbage
can at this bus stop,
people walk and
drive their cars,
with open disregard,
that where they drop
their refuse, I consider
my front yard! So keep
your garbage for yourself.

Now where was I?

Ah, yes off to walk my dog,
part two.

DWE 2013-04-05

Fast talkers
line the roadways,
moving at the speed of sound,
the sound of their own voices

bus riders, their lives,
time line chatted and charted,
awaiting departure, an unwilling collection,
waiting to transport theirs mouths,

moving at the speed of sound,
the sound of their own voices,

all peers, all seers,
in conversation with the invisible,
trusting the only one who has
their ear

their ears, ear ringed,
they hear the sounds
they want hear,
as they move together,
each all alone,
they move in unison,

moving at the speed of sound,
the sound of their own voices,
confident they will arrive in
on time, in an orderly fashion,
one bus, many voices,
all moving,

at the speed of sound,
the sound of their own voices


©NL022014
   DWE

Started as a DEBate, oh wait
Wasn't going so well, I could tell
Needed a mirACLE.  This debacle.

There was the brandishing of threats, overheated bets,
Words and gestures exchanged, faces promised to be,"rearranged"
Physical constraint, did taint the purity and value, we became estranged

Crime and punishment, was the lament
"capital", thought one side, with pride
MERCY was preferred, as a key word.

By the others, "Sisters and brothers of

Law 11",  the assignment was to DEBATE the lives and fate
of the criminal few who did the deed, do we accede?
It almost got out of control, peace took a hit on the atoll.

The teacher knew as animosity grew, there might about to
be a major crime which would mean to call out the law,
He called it "A draw" and "we'll let Parliament decide!"

In the end no one got hurt, save their pride, the teacher
himself said "it was a miracle, that the debate, did not
descend into a debacle".  But to this day, there are some,
not in our class or the court of public opinion, but where
it really matters, think that this scatters to the four winds
justice.


DWE 2013-04-03

Diamonds on the wall of my blue room,
Dark chocolate by my bed, unable to enjoy,
Colourless whine poured out, it is just a ploy,
Sunshine through the blind of my tomb.

Oh pity where is thou sting, that barbed song you sing,
Oh death where is thy mercy that you grant,
Life won't be able to nag at me and rant,
What the  "Na Na Na na Na na, hey hey goodbye", brings.

My ears hear sour notes, my tongue taste flat ones,
How did I get here so fast, when I started last,
Finished first, did I cheat the torture of my past,
Racing my engine, beating itself, while I dream reruns.

Well,
well,
unwell,
once again, drifting off leave me be, let me nap till after three,
grant my heart a rest for Monday comes and another test.

DWE 2013-04-21

His heavy soiled worn
work boots, are set aside on
the woven mat in the corner of the room,
behind him.

Picking up the violin and bow,  with rosin
sticking, tuning as he moves across the open, lofted
space
in preparation of play.  And by playing,
the chatter and noise of his work day far and away,
from this private space were no longer a distraction.  They were behind him,
now he had completed a new song, knew it by heart,
as it was from his…
with the sounds and notes soaring above the vaulted
ceiling rafters, he was getting that feeling that comes
with his play.

He began to dance for his audience of One.
the music was his, but with it he asked for forgiveness,
for his thoughtless ways on those days when he cared not for,
any other living soul than his own. Then a heaviness in
the flow, the rhythm, lead him to a place where he knew he
was forgiven now and forever from before he or this song,
were ever birthed.

He dreams Celtic.

Arms moving as he played, feet lifting and placed,
jumping from note to note, to land and lift again. And again.

Lightly.

He dreams Celtic.

He paused, so did his music as did his play
and he stared his work boots down.
Then he quickly he began again fingers dancing over
the strings,
as feet danced across the floor, he knew
that in playing his music there was joy,
in his past there was a history,
that told a story every-time
he played
because he dreams Celtic.

Though the day may tax him,
it was able to be tamed, for
his dreams of music are reality
and he dreams Celtic.


DWE 2013-04-21

Eternity, a long time.  It seems along time away.  Forever.
I do not have, that long to live, breathing. I hope to experience Eternity.

One day.

I have heard, so have you, that a picture is worth a thousand words, I want to write
thousands of words to get the picture of Eternity, and get it right.

There is one way.

I have heard that words can fail you, that is when music speaks. If words are my only voice
and poetry and prose are the only notes that are on key........
Do you.. will you recognize the song?
Can you sing along, so
I do not sing, out loud;
Alone.

If I paint a story with my pen or construct a vast
array of sentences, to fill the void,
please read it and bring it to life;

thump, thump,

in the emptiness,
feel for a pulse,
bring your face close,
to catch the signs of life;

A breath.

I am desperate here.
I am wanting; to ink stain, computer character,
and burn a memory in the muscle of your conscious
and unconscious.

I AM.

My arms can not open to hug anyone, if I hug my self to protect my self from the
darkness, in the world that slays
innocents without, regard for their
thoughts, their breath or what they speak; not a
word.

Winter waits. Cold comes. Freezing rain falls.
Seek the shelter, that opens its doors to the cry of
your heart; that still beats, the beats through time
and space and beyond reason; that, IT, echos

across... a cross

Spring follows, Summer simmers until the Fall,
which brings an end to the seasons, which again
are whitened purely by Winters frost; snow
hibernation and too frozen
death.

If you suffer; somewhere someone has suffered more. You are not alone,
left out in the cold although some are; in places that do not have chilly temperatures
they are treated worse than as if they were living in the most severe of winter conditions.

Punished.

This cycle of seasons is not experienced by all parts of Earth; the whether, or weather still leads on and results need to invert the status quo for mankind to survive, for you to
live eternally.  Experience the eternal.

Accepted.

Originally done by DWE 2011-12-15