desert rock

my wrinkled heart like the desert rock
is indifferent to the passers by
neither the scorching sun of the day
nor the coldest wind leaves a mark

my skinny frame desires none, needing

no one to admire, or to consider
for a keep sake for a shorter, or
a longer care for her safekeeping

my matured mind needs no props, support

from dogma, or assurance with cultic
promises for sailing across the gigantic
ocean, for i’m a rock in the desert

© henry victor     17.02.2003

misappropriation

misappropriating the language
of love, i have seen many acting keen
the life of lust doing much damage
for themselves like that honey bee, drone

temple cat too does not hesitate
to embezzle the sacred idiom
much freely, more than a crafty priest
thinking they are in heavenly room

hypocrisy he hates more than denial
intentions he inspects in the heart
being true to ourselves is that full
what heaven above from us expect

henry victor 19.02.2003

waiting for maturity

my heart is filled with tranquility

now that i am older and feebler
with that my youthful tribulations
and middle age totally disappeared

my feelings were similar earlier

as i became a youth beyond teen
with that no more ailment of a kid
remembering a previous feeling

my wait now for death, the final maturity

with which feebleness and helplessness
will be gone forever and there will be
no more hurting and no more crying

© henry victor     16.02.2003

Bird in Bush!

Life I take in hand like grabbing the bird in bush
And begin to beat, bang, battle and bounce
As if I am beating, battling and bouncing clay
To make a flawless cup
From which I may sip, and at other times gulp
Deriving a pleasing taste for tongue
That my mind may announce to soul: ‘indeed pleasure’
But only to end up with great pain
While my being fly and flee like the bird in bush!

This time I let life pick me like that bird in bush
Picking a worthless, wriggling worm
She picks, pecks, pinching me into pieces
To make me a faultless sup
For herself, her offspring, and then their poop
Deriving from my life a quick kick
While I mumble within my restless soul: ‘painful pain’
A whispering not heard outside my heart
As life is perished inside the belly of a bird in bush!

Henry Victor 15.12.2005

picking cowry shells

while wandering in eternity

i happen to be shipwrecked
and was surely stranded
in those isolated islands

whose seas i sometimes easily crossed

by swimming, at other times struggled
much to escape those pounding waves
clutching currents, and swallowing whales

when i did not have to battle monsters

desperately desiring to make short
my looming living, i spent my moments
picking cowry shells, smooth and glossy

these shells attracted me, ceaselessly creating

a tranquil music in a terrified heart
with a sturdy hope in mind, one day to trade
them for a better life in a yonder world

henry victor 04.01.2003

You the Nameless

pitching, always, Your tent
where I have pitched mine
beside my neighbor’s tent
You ever remain my Lord

You are peace from above
You are light from heaven
with life, that ever-flowing
river, You quench my thirst

You are that glorious whole
You are the most holy one
with praise, my feeble feet
in Your place, discover rest

You are that pioneer
You are that stone in corner
by being my servant
that serves in my need

Henry Victor 02.02.2003

Torment Me Not with Your Absence

despite my running into that abyss
for four decades
the reason for my absence from your grace

You still, to enable me to sublimate
my ever-flowing, limitless libido
the cause of the ill impact
of your grace on me and mine

visited me in that smiling baby
causing also guilt to another
teaching me, an old dog, some new tricks
that I may hound you, the hound of heaven
hounding me, before and beyond, those forty years

but, again, I have fallen from Your mercy
that was short lived in my life
making me now, to wander as a mad dog
looking for one more piece of bone
of seeing that smiling face, Your earlier grace
that I may peep at You, just once more

hence I drive to the west, then to east
looking also in south
sweeping your space from north
beyond Leduc and Millet, the city and the hamlet
while You torment me with Your absence

Henry Victor 14.09.2008

Acrostic Poem in Proverbs Thirty-One

A capable wife is far more precious than jewels.

Best wife she is and the husband will lack none.

Caring him, she does good, all the days of her life.

Diligently she seeks wool and flax, working with willing hands.

Eager she is like a ship of the merchant to bring food.

For she rises while it is still night to provide task for her household.

Goes to consider and buy a field with her money to plant.

Her mind she girds with strength and makes her arms strong.

I see her profitable produce and her lamp never goes out at night.

Joining those weaving clothes, she holds the spindle.

Keenly she opens her hand to the poor, reaching out to the needy.

Leaves out fear for her home when it snows.

Makes herself coverings and her clothing is fine linen and purple.

Never her husband is unknown in the city gates.

On account of her industriousness she makes garments to sell.
Power and pride are her clothing, and she laughs at all times.

Quenches she, the quest for wisdom, teaching kindness.
Reading well the ways of her family, she inspires hard work.
Sooner her children rise up, they call her happy.
Too many have done excellently, but a good wife surpasses them.

Unnecessary is charm, but a God fearing woman is to be praised.

Value her, giving the right share, and acknowledging her worth.
Worthy is a woman striving to be a good wife.

X-ray tube is as a good wife that generates healing and energy.

Yama, the god of the dead, too will bow down seeing a good wife.
Zillion praises are offered to a good wife, with the ultimate being.

Henry Victor 22.01.2003

Jesus, the Nazarene

when i was, with joy and confidence
shouting the name jesus, the christ
in smaller churches, and taller cathedrals
marketing his name and brand, while
others were advertising their own products
to consumers in home, and far away, in overseas

jesus of nazareth, the man who hung on the cross
with only his loincloth, softly spoke to summon
with tone so temperate that one can hardly hear

to come and live with him, to see for my self
those birds that have nests and foxes that have holes
where he, the son of mary, the nazarene
had neither a place to live nor possession to protect

reminding me that he had nothing to loose, or advertise
nor anything to market but only a cause
to live, a life to suffer pain

to offer more life for the little

Henry Victor 26.01.2003

My New Wound

I drove my new red ford focus
into my friend’s old ford truck
when a hook in back of the truck
on bumper of my station wagon
made a stab, thin but permanent

the unease caused by the wound
with a few scratch and scrape
on otherwise the spotless sedan
led me to fix a fresh bumper
with no concern for my purse

but now I see a festering sore
in the deep depth of my spirit!

Henry Victor 25.01.2003

Prison to Pearl

I am –
No, we are
For no longer I feel alone
Strangely, there is togetherness
That surrounds me
Wrapping me
With warmth
And increasing in my soul
That poise
The quietness in my heart
Sense of comfort in mind –

We are
Trapped and imprisoned
With cunning motions
And crafty resolutions
That the so called crazy
Democracy
The seven blind
From the seventy dumb
Weave together
Through sly scheme
Like the spider web

But we
Like that trapped
Raindrop grow
Gradually into a pearl
Of great price
That could neither
Be destroyed, nor
Ignored, waiting in our prison
For forty years like Mandela
To guide the nation
That had bled for too long

Henry Victor 14.02.2008

An Accent

To the pond behind my yard
I saw strolling a frog and a toad
They were there on that rainy day to breed
But the two soon began chatting their creed

Said the frog: “You a Bufonidae
You disturb my peace with your croak”
Protested the toad: “You a rascal Ranidae
You scare me to my death with your squeak”

Friendly chatting now turned to a dispute
They leapt across belittling each other
And there crept the water snake, moving softly
Swallowed the frog, proceeding next to the toad!

Henry Victor 01.04.2005

Disabled Soul!

I know not why I’m here
I want not to discern
I’m just a robot
Like that landed in Mars
With no mind of it’s own

I keep filling my wallet
I keep grabbing for self
And I pause not to question
That will slow me down
The pace of my seizing more

At the end of my mission
Or, when my eyes fail in vision
I know not whether I will be re-cycled
Or, dumped to rot
To complete that disintegration

That inbuilt greed
For more, for much more
Simple commands
Programmed within
Disables my soul

Henry Victor 05.06.2008

My Song!

Santa Claus has walked into that closed
Box with no opening from inside
He is trapped and suffers much
With claustrophobia
Who misled him?
Why has this happened to him?

I wake up at five
And roll in bed till seven
Sip coffee till nine
My breakfast at ten
Protesting against heaven
Even beyond eleven
That my life is too short!

Jingle bell has gone too long
Too much fun and no pain
Though my garment is always red
With that I wear my white beard
Pretending to be very old and wise
Repeating the same Christmas song!

Henry Victor 06.06.2008

Note: Photo taken by Gitanjali Victor

Eighth Anniversary!

Eight years may have elapsed
But our pain have not ceased
For forty that suddenly collapsed
Including twenty-six pre-matured souls
Mostly in teens, and rest in adolescent age
Amirtha, Kavitha, Sumithra and Regina
Amala Viji and Navamany Mithura
Balachandran Rajitha and Ranjithkumar Rajitha
Tharsini, Methini and Thushanthini
Palani, another Tharsini, and Usanthini
Thavaseelan and Sanmugavadivelan
Nagalogini and Gananathan
Senthilvel, Sakunthala and Umathevy
Venu, Ragavan, Sellam and Vasanthakumar
All in a single cowardly aerial attack
(On Nagerkovil Maha Vidiyalayam
On September 22nd of 1995)
Performed with meticulous planning
By the Sri Lanka Air Force
Backed by a Woman Chief
While the well fed elsewhere, hypocritically
Bemoan the LTTE recruiting child soldiers
While keeping mum their mummified mouth
As human bodies and souls become a pile of dirt
In the very premise where human rights is learnt

Henry Victor 22.09.2003

Imitate the Cougar

Help me imitate
The patient placidness
And the love that let goes
That is inbuilt in the psyche
Controlling the strong and swift
Slender mother cougar

Let the same permeate my mind
Nerves, and pervade my life
Even as I prepare
My only daughter for her life ahead
Knowing, at the end I cannot
Live my daughter’s life!

Help me learn my lessons
From the truly self-governing
Sage of the jungle!

Henry Victor 20.09.2003