Across the space of desolation,
enfolding the desert of existence
where instead of thornbush
the Holy Spirit grows juniper,
the journey in the labyrinth of torment
is to reach the oasis of bliss,
from where He calls to come to the waters.
I travel from the abyss of despair
on the blessed inward journey
through the layers of consciousness,
perceive the radiance of the divine beacon
in the sanctum of the devout soul,
illumining the corridor to the abode of peace.
The portals of the inner domain then open,
where for me God blooms the piety lotus,
suffused with the gleam of His grace.
Insightful of the benevolence of God,
my soul shines with ethereal radiance
like the flaring brilliance of a billion suns
in the infinite depth of the inner space.
In my self-searching spiritual odyssey
toward the edge of enlightened eternity,
I perceive His gracious support,
making me glow in the galaxy of acumen,
turning me into a living light.
My doctor is like no other,
he treats me like a brother.
Never unfair nor dishonest
in diagnosis or prognosis;
he tells me all just as it is –
a trait he’s known for best.
During my recent physical,
with expertise and acumen,
he revealed nothing amiss,
my health sound and admirable.
And with beaming pride
of a respected professional
said I’d make a fine specimen
in formaldehyde.
Rhyme scheme by Robert Frost, words by the author
The thing that makes me human
wants a positive bond.
That lady wisdom would illumine
me, giving me social acumen.
I try not to respond
to one who wants to fight,
preferring peace as in a pond,
and find that giving love is quite
like a magic wand.
The Mistake
He had been invited for dinner in Peking by a group of business leaders who had invested much money for his venture and success, but they thought his fee was too much. I wanted to discuss the matter
He took the plane to Pekin; when he landed, it was mid-morning, but there was no one to greet him, which annoyed him
He called his secretary, who apologized that there had been a mistake. What she had meant was a Peking. The Peking Duck Cafe in Oslo
He didn’t like to meet those stuffy wealthy people with their stilted language, instead, he bought a Chinese electric car business that gave him pleasure
Those idiotic Europeans who bought a car that was made in China had intended to sack his secretary, but pleased with his business acumen, he asked her if she was a good mother material.
Lure of mirage
in deranged dunes,
dances in
dandelion rhythm
with oasis dream,
illusion inscribed
in sane sands of time,
sliding continuum
with desiccated travail,
thirst unquenched,
stimulus sensuous,
perpetual.
Dormant despair
usurps harps of hope,
vibrato dissipates
unperceived,
wisdom shroud
unfurls crafty chimera
in life of actuality,
awareness avid,
imbibed.
Stifling shadow
anguished onyx cloud
creeps remorseless,
dissension darkness drips
opaque desolateness
on listless landscape,
mangled in
strife maelstrom,
mind sucked within
hope vortex,
umbrage pervades,
unushered.
Silver spectrum
of lines transient
in acumen cloud,
splits into colors
of radiant reverie
in optimistic prism,
sculpted.
Convoluted canvas,
carapace conjured
for contorted hideous faces,
turning in a trance
into baroque frescos,
flicker of beauty
sparkles sneaky
in conceived smile,
beholder,
the painter.
Behind the scars and the bumps and bends
Lies wisdom.
In the lines and the aches and pains
Is etched ‘experience’.
We live in this body for a while.
incarnate, living in physicality, in duality
with the spirit deep within, and while
discernment grows, the chassis rusts
and eventually it turns to dust -
it was only borrowed after all.
Physical being is to finite as
the soul is to infinity.
So in the quest to seek eternal youth,
be circumspect and don’t forget the truth.
Nurture the soul instead, listen to its voice.
Search within and don’t be distracted by the
lure of materialism. Hoard acumen, poise,
prudence, and grow in understanding.
Don’t get choked by the weeds of greed.
We are only a short time here, make it count.
What's true with human heart
They aren't as real as their mouths say
For in them the world is full of practicality
The emotion of things can't solve any problem
Claims they don't reach goal by the beating of the heart
They have a thousand reasons to stay braggart
It seems reasonable but the heart has all the content
That the reasoning combine, brag to wonders of all wonders
When the mind is in static, the heart overtake initiatives
There are things that the mind can't comprehend, the heart does
Countries progress is the result of acumen mind
Inventions is the product of meticulous discovery
Science and technology is mind point of pure dedication
War and invasion is the result of mind jealousy
Destruction is the result of mind's hatred goals
Many happens to the wisdom of think-tank revolution
Man likes to destroy the things he likes
Everything that mind establish comes to nothing
With all these things that happens the heart always suffer.
(Writing prompt : Wisdom is not enough to calm your fears)
Dark clouds of insecurity surge with menacing storm severe,
the distressed mind is sucked into the whirlpool of fear,
and swirls helpless within the vortex of noxious peril of gale,
gets divested of the feeling that the fright could be notional.
In times of disaster the journey’s end seems to be the plight,
as the light at the end of the dark tunnel doesn’t appear in sight.
The frightened senses feel the air of hazard in the unknown,
where the debris of hope piles up in the domain of fear outgrown.
Beneath the surface of the illusory mortal perception unclear,
the wise mind tries to build the sagacious images of fear
with the contours of reasoning that the astute insight affirms,
knowing the danger and realizing the risk in real terms.
Prudence may enhance fear, exposing the qualms deep,
but it tenders the skill to rationally control the panic state’s creep.
Wisdom doesn’t allay fear, an artifact of emotion innate,
but provides the acuity of acumen to face it with strength sedate.
Her poetic mind is uncannily artistic,
She can make a long grocery list
Sound like an art of Shakespeare
and still forget the humble Pear!
With her talent she writes poems
She can express the emotions
We didn’t even know we had …
Like crying over a sock losing its pair.
Her goals are so lofty
Even the moon gets FOMO
When you talk about them...
I finally came to know how she
Writes the prize winning poems
With profound artistic acumen,
She probably interviews her pen
Before letting it touch the paper!
Keep on writing my beloved poet
Sure, one day you will be the greatest !
What the paper said
A newspaper I sometimes read is not happy
that billionaires dabble in politics
the paper is partly right; especially if the rich
The person who thinks about it is not liberal.
People who are successful in relative youth
tend to inflate their importance, ask what
do I know how to fill my time in service to my
country, even though they know it is about
themselves and well-being to use their
business acumen to benefit for the state
and at the same time, give them importance
on an international level
Sigh a mogul is not an intellectual, his vision
is narrowed as his business talent that does
not include the mass of people who might
have other interests, say about quality and
social issues that have no visible outcome
but nevertheless benefit those who are of
a modest talent
A billionaire should not brush them off as a
hindrance to their view, life is more than
running a factory and meeting people who
are in awe of the wealth
The migratory mind indomitable,
the spirited surfer on surging waves of life,
creates the curled crests of fractured moon,
and the dark troughs of sinking fallen stars.
The swell recedes with the ebb of time,
seeking the secluded depth of the past.
The shifting sands etch the seaward footprints,
contoured as the corroding design of decay.
The time arrow finds the destined course,
seeks the serene topography beyond the shore,
away from the eroded wilderness abandoned,
where emptiness engulfs the hues of hope.
In the weed-webbed terrain deep within,
piles up the wreckage of life unlived,
turns the flushing garden to template of wasteland.
The pathway paved outside its frail fence,
waits to be walked fascinated,
reach the mesmeric meadow of tomorrow.
The innovative memory then invents
the arcane acumen of alchemy,
glitters gold in the rusted existential ruins.
Marigold blooms in the aureate junkyard
on the scrap stack of the bleak being,
with the touch of the Midas mind.
Kind people help people
They have soft spot
They are silent workers
Their path is for goodness
Their eyes are creative
Their hands are builder
They talk less but fruitful
They don't like publicity
Their opinions are acumen
They are excellent truth defender
They are usually good leaders
They like to communicate every heart
They are passionate for the helpless
They are nation builder
They are fearless
They only fear God.
Traveling down the memory lane paved a long time ago,
I remember when I was completing graduation,
what profession I’d pursue afterward I didn’t know,
one professor gave my career a direction to follow.
A short statured profoundly erudite humble person,
introduced me to the fascinating facets of geology,
and to the intricacies of the earth in a simple way,
expounding its interesting evolution history.
The complex lattice of crystals he made clear to me,
using designed diagrams and meticulous models,
showed me in the field what in the rocks to see,
opened window in microscope on the world of minerals.
His unique way of teaching influenced my young mind,
ingrained in me a deep interest in the marvels of nature,
leading me to continue my studies in earth science,
creating the launching pad for my satisfactory career.
I won’t forget him for I realize with sense of gratitude
how the course of fulfilling life a teacher carves out,
not only by sensible sustenance of the imbibed acumen,
but by molding the mind to be satisfied with the shaped life.
Beautiful face
Acumen grace
Fierce warrior race.
Egyptian heroine
Beautifully clean
Intellectually acumen
Envied by many women
Loved gem exquisite emerald green
Mark Anthony's lovely queen.
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