For this project I chose from the Ds 106 bank once more, it is called Poetry Reading. For this assignment, I have to found a certain poem and read it as if it was a story. “Love is a Million colors” was a poem I found through google. I can’t help but fall in love with this poem at first sight. It was straight forward, clear and innocent. It reminded me of life itself. Beauty is in the simplest form of things. However, We choose to either over look it, or overcomplicate it. I took this project as an opportunity for a audio project. And for some self reflection that was much needed.
The Poem Name: Beauty is a Million Colors.
Beauty is more than appearance
Beauty is love
The graceful wings of a dove
The endless imagination in a dream
Beauty is not always something that can be seen
Beauty is laughter
And the remembrance after
Beauty is hope
When you have no reason to
Beauty is he and she and me and you
Beauty is forgiving
No matter how hard
Beauty is kindness
Making the best of a mess
Beauty is tears
And overcoming your fears
Beauty is individuality
The courage to be yourself
Beauty is a book, sitting on a shelf
To define beauty,
An impossible task
Does anyone really know, I ask
Beauty is different to me
Than to you
I wonder if anyone ever knew
By: Sareeah Keelyn
The poem tells a story of a woman, She was a perfectionist. While the description could have been her biggest vice to see the details in everything. It was also her biggest curse. The ability to see every single detail means the flaws that could so easily be overlooked by casual onlookers, was noted and magnified many more times for the girl. From young, she had a very casual and very stern belief of beauty. She thought beauty was what she saw on certain individuals faces, she thought beauty was the grand and elegant structures of aristocratic architectures, the beautiful red in a rose, and the immortal gleam of sparkling daimonds. Her perception was shaped by the society around her. It didn’t take her long before she realized that the theme that her beauty standards revolved around held no substance. One day, she sat among her gilded ivory arm chair, holding a rose within her hand. She starts to wonder of it’s beauty.
“Do you see the beauty in this rose?” the woman asked, holding up the rose to the young servant girl.
“Yes, it’s very beautiful” the girl responds.
“You don’t think, it’s lacking in color?” The woman asked with a light frown.
“What is the standard for a beautiful rose, don’t they all grow differently even when they are all the same? If it was about the physical appearance of the rose. I know now how to judge mam. For my eyes are not as discerning as yours”
“Then what kind of beauty are you speaking of, if not the physical?” the woman asked amused.
“The beauty of life of course, it’s hardships as it sprouted from it’s seed. It’s struggle to grow into a full bloom that it is today”
The woman blinked in silent as she returned her gaze back onto the rose. Understanding at the very moment that beauty was indeed the process of developing and maturing.
The recorder that I used to record my assignment is the Zoom H2n handy reocrding once again. fOr this post. I gave a full on story. I think my creativity should boot this to a level two post.