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Umberto Eco

Translation is the art of failure.

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The art of living

The art of living

To learn what you need, to be humble yet,
To fear what you must, to do that is good
And to accept what you have got from them
Would be the wise ways for a peaceful life.
06.11.2012

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Emily Dickinson

To own the Art within the Soul

855

To own the Art within the Soul
The Soul to entertain
With Silence as a Company
And Festival maintain

Is an unfurnished Circumstance
Possession is to One
As an Estate perpetual
Or a reduceless Mine.

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If I Understood the Art of Being a Craftsman

I can establish and build upon a mess.
To have some express they rest comfortably.
And if nothing better than a mess has been professed.
But in my heart,
If I understood the art of being a craftsman...
I would not brag about the accumulation I've achieved.
Especially if little of it reflects from a basis of quality.

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You Are The Art Of My Life

You are the song I love to sing
The lyrics I owe to hymn
The bass that synchronizes my heart beat
The melody that fills my spirit

You are the poem I create
The rhyme I give in every end
The rhythm that makes a poetry
Just like a riddle so sweet and free

You are the vision I like to paint
The dazzling colors I try to blend
You are the art, no one can replace
The obra maestra that will never fade

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Erica Jong

The Poet Fears Failure

The poet fears failure
& so she says
"Hold on pen--
what if the critics
hate me?"
& with that question
she blots out more lines
than any critic could.

The critic is only doing his job:
keeping the poet lonely.
He barks
like a dog at the door
when the master comes home.

It's in his doggy nature.
If he didn't know the poet
for the boss,
he wouldn't bark so loud.

& the poet?
It's in her nature
to fear failure
but not to let that fear
blot out

her lines.

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The art of surfing

I have not mastered the art
of riding on rolling waves
fifteen feet high,
speeding by like a bird
in the overcast sky,
slicing the roaring thundering rush
of water filled with immense power
piping through swirling churning cavities
on a storm tossed sea
and almost drowned in the trying
with the board passing me
like a piece of driftwood,
with water enveloping me,
knocking the breath of life from me
and I sank like a piece of lead
and was tossed out
like spit on the beach.

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The art of the muse

The art of the muse
~
Full figured and strong
open mind and heart
she is my Mona Lisa
a will to be counted
a voice not afraid to speak
kind and gentle in nature
still not to be crossed
she is beautiful
a captivating soul
her every essence holds
my thoughts follow
she is a work of art
my muse of words
still yet to be written
she is my life, my future
she is woman
beautiful, strong, desirable
she is perfection, passion
she is in a dream
all I could imagine
she is here forever
in my heart

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Live the Art

Infiltrate a dream into your imagination
Watch it fall apart affected by reality
Collect what's left and lock yourself up
'Cause what you've seen is your future, it rots

Sew back the innocence this world has lost
And reinvent the colors that aging has blackened
Due to the sorrow, an elegy is implied
It's beauty is painful, so it's exiled

Suffering blindly, isolated by the sky
Shape the details as they fit you, so you can empathize
Absorb the inspiration into your mind
And dream again, live the art

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Learning The Art Of Loving

it is a hug that you need
when some parts of you dangle
on your shoulder
like the way your your hair
shouts for help
for fear of falling
and here i am coming
to hug you
this kind of hug that sings
the song of
apple pickers
and

garbage collectors
whose hands
are sworn
to clean the mess
and keep the pieces

to put them all away
and burn them
as often as necessary

i will hug you baby
but only for
a while

i am both
this apple picker somewhere
in the north
and a garbage collector
some place in the south

let us talk about
love some other time
i am still
learning the art of loving

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The Art Of Sport And Humility

Hollow is self praise.
Hollow is the acceptance of it taken.

In the art of sport and humility,
Those who are truly champions...
Of undenied ability and integrity,
Aren't those first to cross the finish line...
Most of the time.

Often those who are true 'victors',
Can be found behind the scenes...
Giving their support and motivation,
To others on the team with praise.
To receive with beliefs they are the winners.

Each minute.
Every hour in days lived and those to come.
If a maintaining of faith stays,
No one loses what is sought to successfully keep...
Within their minds engrained.

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The Gift Of Failure

To travel a road and never fail
Is to follow a lesser trail.
The real path is narrow and steep
With jagged rock and fissure deep.
Passage gained is passage earned,
Bought with failure and now learned.

But to fail and not learn
Or fail with no concern
Is to spurn a chance to know
Which direction now is so.

Oh, to find the way unveiled
After having failed
Is to sip the sweetest wine.
The fork in the road is now thine!

The gift of failure is dear indeed,
For in each it sparks the need
To think and labor and then know
That from failure success can grow.
For the greatest gain from a loss
Involved a man and his cross.

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The art of living

at the center of my room
delight
on fresh roses
like your
red lips

on my bed
soft and warm silk blankets
strawberry juice on the side table
and cherry on the
glass

the window is open
fresh air from the sea
cools the room

silence is gold here
and solitude is silver

every moment is
a moment
every hour is not a rush
but on softer touch

every inch of skin
is a caress
every thought is
beautiful

every reality is true
embracing and embraced

this is the art of living
every second a relaxation

sleep comes on cat's feet
like a cloud drifting away

peace in the corner
privacy in my door

and yes, love is always
air-conditioned.

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The Art Of My Poetry

Listen to the art of my poetry,
Listen oh mankind!
What goes around comes around,
And like the things seen in and around us;
But not all the governments are doing well on this earth.
Why are many people suffering ans starving?
Listen to the art of my poetry;
Why are there many bombs in our backyards?
Listen to the art of my poetry;
Why should there be many people sleeping on the streets while,
There are governments ruling over them?
I have seen people drinking from dirty water,
I have seen people eating from the garbage dump,
Yet still there are governments ruling over them;
Listen oh mankind!
Listen to the art of my poetry.

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Charity Concert/The Art Of Possible

Magaldi: On this night
On this night
On this night of a thousand stars
Let me take you to Heaven's door
Where the music of love's guitars
Plays forevermore

Eva: Magaldi

Magaldi: Eva Duarte

Eva: Your act hasn't changed much

Magaldi: Neither has yours

Peron: I stand here as a servant of the people
As we come together for a marvelous cause
You've shown by your presence your deeds and applause
What the people can do true power is yours
Not the government's unless it represents the people

Che: Juan always picks the easy fight
Juan praises fools Juan smothers light
Juan shifts from left to right
Politics the art of the possible

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The art of Marriage

The art of Marriage

A good marriage must be created
In marriage the little things are the big things

It is never being too old to hold hands

It is remembering to say
I love you
At least once a day

It is never going to sleep angry

It is having a mutual sense of values and common objectives

It is standing together facing the world

It is forming circle of love that gathers in whole family

It is speaking words of appreciation and demonstrating gratitude in thoughtful ways.

It is having the capacity to forgive and forget

It is giving each other an atmosphere in which each can grow

It is not only marrying the right person, it is being the right partner

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The Art Of Consonant Cries....

So shall i congratulate myself
for finally learning
not to love you?

Does one celebrate the triumph
of pain
the death of love
the entrance to the gate
of oblivion?

Must you give me a hug
having conquered loneliness?

I have abandoned a place
moving towards another abandoned place
i have no one there
and shall expect no one too

Shall you smile for me now
that my prison bars had been cut?

Do not think that i am free like you
i live in another prison now
to bars not witnessed by you

You call it doors
or perhaps fences of my heart
where i can jump away
and say
this is another greener pasture of my life

I have yet to name it
from the point of view of those eyes
that have mastered
the art of consonant cries...

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Knowing Little About The 'Art' of Work

First it was stated,
He lacked the experience.
Although the people had confidence in him.
And he became President.

Now the losers declare,
He has too much on his plate.
Too much at once for him to contemplate.
Although he is able to do that...
With more chores in store.

They can not keep up with his effective pace!
With complaints.
But no one has said he is incompetent.
And they wonder how he does it.
As they sit,
Like most lazy couch potatoes do.
Fuming and giving lip service,
About how things should be done.
Yet doing nothing themselves,
As is their custom and way of life to bicker,
And feed on snacks to entertain assorted whims.
Knowing little about the 'art' of work!
And how that is applied to accomplishment.

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inspiration ***** I AM NOT THE MAN OF FAILURE

Don’t say I am undoer
Don’t tell I didn’t try
I have many endeavors
Success not yet reply

Don’t think I’m just a dreamer
A man who wants to fly
Across heavenly castle
Without single step I try

I am not the man of great loss
I am not the one you think
But yes I am arisen
From chaotic world of pain

I am not the man of failure
Nor the man of success too
I am in midst of challenges
Fighting hindrance foe

I am not the man of failure
‘cause I give up not nor quit
I am in sweat and labor
Struggling learn to wait

I melt hundred candles
Spark in countless nights
With one dedicated heart
For my course as guiding light

Now my striving years are long
So quite long of time
Seems a lifetime journey
Till success crowns along my way…..

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The Art Of Killing

he never for once
imagined that he could kill

killing
the simple thought of killing
makes him puke

he tried once
killing a fruit fly
in a snap
reasoning that it infected
its dessert
that whole night
he could not sleep
for he was
worn with guilt

his brother is a moron
the worst in class
makes most of the fame
by killing
many fruit flies


he is the top of his class
but he laughs at him
short of respect
for his fear of killing

'it is a phobia' his brother says
and just like everything else
runs berserk and
becomes an unreasonable
generalization

let me cut this story short
he did not make money
waddled in poverty and
feared the art of killing

helpless n& useless in-himself
his wife
deserted him and his kids
lost that respect
because he will never kill
a fly again

i do not want to make this
story long and
agonizing,

know what?
he killed himself.

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The Art Of Catering

The Art of Catering

There was a time I believed everything I read, even in Reader’s Digest.
one such story was about a French soldier in the world war one who,
in his breast pocket carried a notebook full of verses written for his
true love in Lyon, a daughter of a welder. His adulation saved his life.
It was not for me to reflect upon how a note book could stop a bullet.
I told mother I wanted to join the French foreign legion get wounded,
not too serious mind, all this to impress the girl next door she didn’t
like bookish boys who wore round black framed glasses. I threw my
glasses away and for two weeks couldn’t read and tended to walk into
lampposts. I challenged the biggest bully in the school yard for a fight…
and got a bloody nose. I became a trainee cook and the girl next door
laughed till she cried. Back then cooking was not a big deal. Now that
no one, not even women know how to make an omelet cooks or chefs
are super stars and show their skills to adoring fans on TV.

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