Beauty Secrets, by Jenna Boston

Sometimes we look to much,
Sometimes we look too little.
The mirror becomes a source of our worth,
and we forget to discover the beauty outside of the mirror.
Dip your feet into the ocean,
the milkshake of the earth.
Mixed together an abundance of life,
unseen until we look deeper,
Rays of sunlight illuminate colors,
they take your breath away with every glance.
Taking off the buttons,
revealing this earth,
we begin to take our eyes off of our face,
we begin to embrace,
beauty that has been freely given .
A beauty that runs, that soars,
that flows together with a certain sort of harmony.
We walk red carpets,
and admire these "beauty queens",
then with much time and effort,
we begin to believe that we are pretty.
But see the trees the flowers,
in need of no beautifying effort,
they live simply and humbly.
Beauty is not make up art but what lyes
in the heart, the soul.
When we believe our soul is well,
We can see the beauty that we are simply connected to,
nature.
Our connection and our true mirror,
reminding us that we are nothing but BEAUTIFUL.

Vitamin E, by Rachell Summers

Vitamin E

Vitamin E!
I look in the mirror for the tenth time today
The mirror that is in the hallway
Soft lighting is best and this hall has it.

You wretch! I say to myself out of habit
But then I remember.

Vitamin E!
I look closer and see that it is working
Scarlett O’Hara always believed
A clear complexion could vanquish fate
How I’ve longed for one, scars all gone.

Vitamin E!
A miracle topical salve straight from the capsule
No one knows about this but me
My own secret beauty secret, Vitamin E!

Peace, Rose Myers

Peace

This year the resolutions
will not be set adrift,
As though they were going
nowhere, or somewhere.

Simplicity and clarity
is my goal.
And there will be more than one,
if I can think of them.

There’s a canister on the
kitchen counter.
Can it hold my resolves, my goals,
one by one.

I’ll begin with chocolate,
the good kind especially.
Is it possible to fast a year?
Maybe just on Saturdays.

I know what else, those photos of
babies, big kids, all in boxes.
This year I’ll sort them, or
maybe just box them smaller.

Learn to do poetry, now that’s a chore,
Not something you can purchase at the store.
I wonder if it will be a bore.

Like grains of sand, my resolutions flow,
Into that canister they go,
No one will ever know.

Maybe they are best left there,
They will be kept unspoken, unbroken.
And I will be at peace,
‘Till next year.