I am not beauty…


I am not beauty.

I am not breath taking radiance

glimmering beneath the waking sun.

I am not sensuality.

My lips do not beg to be kissed,

my eyes do not whisper ancient

secrets,golden honey embracing

forgotten touch, fingers tracing

blossoming buds.

I am not elegance.

I am not ornate sophistication

my words do not dance across

the evening breeze in perfect


I am not wisdom.

My every thought is not seeped

in depth swimming in the pools of

unread books written before time began.

I am not intelligence.

I do not know the answers to the

unasked questions, I cannot speak

in a thousand tongues, or caress

the broken ego’s of the literate.

I am a poet.

I am neither beauty nor sensuality.

I am the gold dust sprinkled

across the oceans ebbing tide, I am

the shadow whispering across the curve

of my hip as moon light teases my naked form.

I am the unspoken elegance

known by a few and wanted by the masses.

I am sophistication suffocating

momentarily for my sins.

I am the ancient calling of an

old soul, wise enough to learn,

naive enough to discover.

I am but a dragonfly dancing

through transformations,

skipping across summer breezes,

borne into majestic waters I

am the translucent wings…

I am but a poet, I create all that I am not.


Karen Hayward ©2016




3 thoughts on “I am not beauty…

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