What Is Beauty?

Looking beyond the colored veil.
You can see the flicker, the shimmer.
The music is there, hiding.
It jumps, excited and overjoyed.
You need but open your mouth,
Open your soul, and let it free.

Looking beyond the awkward limbs,
You can see the graceful flow.
Movement and elegance,
Grow through the muscles,
Out the tips of your fingers and toes.
Close your eyes and dance.

Looking beyond the rustic tools,
See the painting as it can be.
Paint and paper can be so much more,
It is there, just reveal it as Michelangelo did;
Chip away at the marble until you find
The beauty of creativity in front of you.



What is beauty? Is it art, is it music, is it performance?

I can see beauty in most things if I look hard enough.
In the cliche things; music, a painting, a sunset, dance.
In the less admired things; people, books, speech, words.
In the things left behind; equations, mistakes, anger, a smile.

So again I ask, what is beauty?

The Poet

The poet drew the line in the sand;
Connecting it to another.
She knew where it began
But not where it was to end.

And so she followed the line,
Searching for the other.
She went through heat,
Through snow and weather violent.

The end never seemed to come,
Her dimming hopes having enough.
With feet so tired, eyes so weary,
How could the gentle poet go on?

So she sank; in spirit, in body,
Her knees hitting sand so rough.
Head falling, hanging in defeat;
And in her despair, the poet missed the gleam.

Introspectiveness Sucks

So... today I had a conversation with my mother. We talked about relationships, love and what people need, in general, to be happy with another person.


And it got me thinking or, more specifically, worrying.

I wonder if I'm too picky in what I look for in a person.

I want to laugh, to cry, to argue, to be agreed with, to be given space, to be held, to drive them up a wall, to be loved, to feel hands in my hair, to feel fingers in mine.

I want to be awkwardly comfortable. I want to them to be maturely childish. Cynically hopeful.

I want an impossible balance.

I used to think that love was enough. I've learned differently.

I don't know if what I want is so.... hard to find. I don't know if my standards are too high.

I'm worried they are... but I'm also afraid of compromising and settling for something less than actual happiness.

And then I worry... What if I find them or found them.. and I just am not/was not what they wanted.

What if my balance doesn't mesh with theirs?

I know it fits my personality, but I really don't want to be the crazy lady with all the cats. I don't want to be "Aunt Amanda" forever... I want to be "Mom" someday.

I know humans, by nature, fear loneliness. We are social creatures. I know my thoughts are normal... I also know that sometimes people like me end up just like I am afraid to. Alone.



The poet knelt in the sand,
Her eyes on the grains as they slipped away.
And she knew, feeling the softness contrast
The coarseness she knew could be,
That her fears were validated
By the simplicity of regret.



Have a good weekend, friends.

-Manda

Returning As Something New

HI! Miss me, folks!?!

Let’s get back in the swing of things with a loverly angsty poem from your own resident Manda!


Just Ask

Ask me again, why I won't sing you my song.
Ask me again, what I think went wrong.
The answer will change.
Isn't it strange,
That there are so many don'ts?
But I know the problem is all of my won’ts.

Ask me why I walk away
Ask me what I want to say
My eyes should reveal
What my mouth must conceal
I’ve lost my fight with my heart
And it has no will to start



Something a little more cheery, why don’t we? ^_^

FRESH

It’s like someone opened a window, let the breeze roll in
It’s like someone opened my heart, let the love begin
It’s like someone took my hand, and told me I was good
It’s like someone looked in my eyes and finally understood

No more hiding under blankets or living under guilt
No more stifling my laughter and balancing on stilts
No more living day to day in horror and fear
No more relying on the hate, the fake smile and the tears

Who am I?
Fuck if I know

Who am I?
I’m just starting to grow

Who am I?
I am your love, your friend

Who am I?
I’m the one who made it to the end.




There are two poems for your reading pleasure...

It feels good to be back!

Confusing Realities

Tangled in the vines
You think about all you've done
Tangled in the vines
You whisper a prayer for all you could do

Tangled
Webbed
Trapped

Trapped without hope
You wish for redemption
Trapped without dreams
You lose connection

Once you're there
You're lost forever
You're drifting away
You've gone to a world of ends


Or a beginning.

Harmonious Disposition

Each interaction
Each event
Each brush of the shoulders
Or kiss of the lips

Each opportunity
Each idea
Each meeting of the eye
or conversation

Everything.. Everyone... is a chance to learn.
About each other.... about yourself.

Don't let the opportunities slip away because of fear
Don't let the past cloud your present
Don't let your future dictate your actions

Cautiousness and curiosity must be balanced
You cannot use either excessively
They must find harmony

Without that delicate dance
There is no merit to the past
No present entanglements worth having
And no future to attend to

Poetry and made up words

Never put your faith in a stranger
They will steadfastly let you down
Without realizing the danger
Oblivious to your loss of ground.

Never put your faith in a lover
For they wield a power untaught
Once the words surround you
The damage can never be unwrought






So I was writing the shitty poem above you hoping to get inspired to write something when I stumbled upon a realization. As much as I love words and all their glory, I make up a fuckload of them.

Example: Unwrought.... Not a word. You all know what I mean when I said it. But it's REALLY not a word.

The more I think the more I realize I do this more often than not. I take a real word and add things to it. A prefix here, a suffix there. A completely non-realistic word there.

And then I realized something else... No WONDER people hate talking to me so much. Half of what I said... isn't a real language. Ha!

My friends have always said I have Mandaisms

And I just thought it was my phrasing but.. blast it all, I just have my own damn language again.

Lovely.




So now that I know
How I ruin my fav'rite
Language, yay me.

Intermission

The excitement of something beginning
The loss of something established
Battling, endlessly caught

You wish to see the new
You wish to keep the old
You can't. You have to choose

But while you choose
While you make that awful break
While you change

Know that you are not alone
That the world wont stop spinning
And that this is just the very beginning.

The Flower and The Girl

Brightly, the flower bloomed
Etching the feelings of love
Of needing into the girl’s soul

Softly, the flower sang
Songs of memories past
And the journey ahead

Gently, the flower touched
Its petals soft, luring the girl
Giving warmth and comfort

Quickly, the flower stung
Thorns embedded deep into flesh
Drawing precious blood

Tightly, the flower gripped
Draining the girl dry
Leaving her nothing to depend on

Sadly, the girl died
Embraced by the flower
Forever locked in deception.

Poem That Makes No Sense

Temptation is so sweet
Laying on my tongue
Delaying my retreat
Reaching in so firm

Wandering through the plain
The empty seas of home
I hear an idle strain
I hear a subtle tone

Following the sound
I journey here and there
My footsteps on the ground
The only partner shared

And to the empty echoes
I find myself so deep
In the tempered deco
I lay my head to sleep

The noise now forgotten
Like hill and vale and tree
I am now begotten
In my land of dream

Lost

The poetry within my heart is dampened
By the whisper of your voice in my ear
Endless calls of can’ts, don’ts, won’ts
Everything is caught shadow, nothing is clear

Wandering breathlessly through a mountain
Lost and aimless without a guide
Trying to lose your voice, your presence
But you’ve left me nowhere to hide

Echoes in my mind
Torn bits of my heart
Rejecting all that’s kind
I don’t want to be a part of this anymore

Let me go.
Let me live.
You’ve taken everything
I HAVE NOTHING LEFT TO GIVE.

Untitled Poem

Gentle, hypnotizing calls one cannot explain
For, on different ends of the spectrum, they sit
Idly waiting to be recognized, waiting to begin

One the whisper of a tender lover
Embracing you without qualms
Taking over your senses completely

One the almost silent plea of chances to come
Familiar to the first in ways of the heart
Entreating you to come just a bit closer

So it is, endless cycle of wooing
Of wanting and of losing
Needing and regretting

Constantly biding the time
Carried on the wind, day by day
Sorrow croons as love begs.

Beginnings

If a beginning
Is the end of something else
Do we ever pause?


Beginning, risking becoming something new.
With every step, closer to change, with every breath, closer to life.
Begin again. Again. Again. Never end.
Why do we mark beginnings when they are constant?

Let go into the winds of change, lose who you once were, lose yourself.
Win yourself.
There is no easy way to walk through life.
We are in a constant flux of ends, beginnings and staying the sames.




Hello anyone reading this, just you Will more than likely!

This is my first post. A bit of poetry, a bit of ramble, I figure. Give a taste of all the sides of Manda... Ew.

Anyway, beginnings are always happening. In living life, we are ever changing, always making choices. As a wise woman once said to me, even not making a choice or change is making a choice in some respect. There. I've fulfilled my quota of today's topic now on to the good stuff.


This is a new project where we write every other day. Today is super-freakin'-special because we're both gonna throw our two cents in.... for.. a total of four. We're rich like that.

You, reader person, should leave a comment either answering questions we shove in your face, asking US questions, giving us an idea for a topic or theme, saying how much we rock your socks off or how sucktastic that last prose I wrote was. Really, we just like to feel loved so comments make our bellies do some sort of odd flippy floppy.

Alright, I think that's enough of that. Tomorrow will be better I hope.

-Manda


EDIT: Apparently comments aren't working so leave comments at BeautifulOpinions@yahoo.com. Put who its to in the subject line.