meaning

those events, joys and pains

that you send on my way

are designs that you, the unseen artist

scratch, sketch and etch

that i may ponder in my heart

the secret

intentions of that invisible artist

but never am i permitted

to publicly interpret

to proclaim

the meaning of artistic events

making me a mute

in the very presence of your absence

© henry victor     17.12.2008

battling boulder

you roll around me like a stream

with your sleeplessness as i sleep

deep, like a rock hard and un-wet

un-hurt in my soul as souls wait

to merge into the ocean of your love

like my body eventually becoming earth

to earth, and ashes to ashes! for in death

as in life, none can separate my heart

from yours flooding and surging in love

for me more than my daughter does for her

baby daughter; thus launching providence

you let me roll as a brook battling boulder

© henry victor             16.09.2016

friend i seek

i need your friendship

more now, than before;

i feel my aloneness

and the much i have lost

without a companion to chat

to receive a timely counsel!

those around me are too busy

and carry their own grief;

when not busy, or not burdened

with woes, often they are fake!

be not far away; speak loud

to me, and clear, that i may hear!

© henry victor

jealously guarded cell

 

jammed, jailed inside

a silly small self, eager to serve

secretly my little cause

and building my own

a fragile castle laboriously

brick by brick i raised

ousting others

from their rightful seats

using opportunities in my favour

stopping not to weigh cost

of seclusion, yearning more

until i collapsed in cell

 

© henry victor     18.03.2004

my dream

disgusting realities

my awake mind

refuses to let my eyes see

but when my eyelids are shut

my heart reconstructs

scribbling a perfect poem

a nightmarish dream

with graphic imageries

to haunt my soul, transcending

fear, words and lines dropped

on paper and prompted by vanity

i, then, name it, my verse

© henry victor     25.03.2004

caged puppy

am i not that caged puppy

running around, within that wire mesh

barking, and playing with toys

belonging not to self

unlike the little dog

i know that i am caged

with sloppy freedom

to flee, or fly higher

© henry victor     20.03.2004

low tide

i am back, again, to sit

on the rock in middle

of the flowing river

surging, splashing waves

after rising water;

the young men

and plenty of damsels

among them future rulers

too, walking through

the hub mall as i sit

to watch my muse

swelling in low tide

©  henry victor     24.03.2004

double stars

like the double diamond

i bought for your pendant

i thought the double stars too i own

i mean you, my soul, and your son

my mind, hence, endlessly craved

to light my grotto, my simple life

with your bright light, the laughter

you brought, and your son later

but the lustre in the light

inside the cave of my temple

where brighter memory is venerated

as the creator of poetry is now faded

© henry victor           07.07.2015

stripping to let in

a complete stripping

to see the naked

that beauty incarnate

is not, for me, feasible

but i am glad it’s possible

to throw away the covering

those chunky blankets, years

of schooling, educating mind

to probe the inner splendour

that my eyes of my soul

may gaze the light

as brightness enter my heart

©  henry victor     12.02.2004

in retreat … i wait

in retreat i wait for a voice

a sense, an assurance
a word of admonition, a declaration
of a direction and i wait

to charge my soul, rundown battery

and i am seated in front
of that window with curtain
rolled, and my coffee cup empty

it is a wintry morning

with a moon waning
yet to set
as leafless boughs sway

and pine branches

have shed the snow
as bunches
of mountain ash berries swing

they add

an extravagant red
to rising reddish rays

but in retreat

i wait
for light
to shine in heart

© henry victor     11.02.2004

i try not to touch

 

it’s 7.10 am

last day of the retreat

again i am in front

of the same window

the curtain too is drawn

to see the beyond

the moon, perhaps waned more

now blocked by the spruce tree

winds are not blowing

but some smoke is puffing

the chimney causing a chase!

i hear

doors opening

and doors shutting

men, women -- nay

priests and priestesses

tip toeing!

i have overcome, i notice

bits of self

i know

neither i belong here, nor there

a thought with which i am

now comfortable;

the moon is still hidden

i try not to touch the moon

© henry victor      11.02.2004

please! don’t fill my cup

my cup is empty

and i have desire

for no more

in this land of plenty

food here taste no more

for my taste buds are depleted

as if x-rays have destroyed

my heart, my desire

in the land of scarcity

there was joy at that time

every instant i returned home

to share potted curd so tasty

© henry victor     11.02.2004

effects made easy

they make things easy

for themselves

walking in terrain unknown

without being blown

they stroll around here

with weighty artillery baggage

that soon transmutes into

my coffin, a heavier luggage

for my daughter continuing her walk

they deliver it from high in the sky

making effects easier

for my offspring as well

and they call this:

“liberation”

but i add the alias

“genocide”

© henry victor     05.02.2004

death gives life

death, the destruction of the bee

at such a great height

leads not to the end

but yields to a new hive

from the new honey will ooze

boosting novel life!

defeat, destruction of victory

after patient endurance

leads not to the end

but yields a fresh muse

transforming thoughts

into lines, prompting peace

© henry victor     23.01.2004

blow, i pray!

winds from God: wind

from humanity, winds from nature

winds from north, winds from south

winds from east, winds from west

blow, i pray; blow it hard

blow in my nodding mind

and in my unproductive yard

until aged are dropped to be dead

blow, i pray; blow it hard

until the self in slumber is awaken

and the roots are shaken

and shaken hard

and new life become firmly rooted

in my mind and in my yard

lent to me for productive plenitude

blow, i pray; blow it hard

© henry victor     03.02.2004

triumph and failure

when intoxicated with triumph

fame follows as the path winds

through hours, days, weeks

months, and years!

but a little failure, a minor stumble

on a little boulder may rock the boat

appearing as an insurmountable

mountain that can never be conquered

hence the heart hangs

with feet up like a bat

even when much light is around

for mind to sail on wings of the wind

© henry victor     23.01.2004

finding my true soul

perceptions leading to plenty

in my purse is to be worldly wise

and practical like the tractable

triumph i first sought much

while sacrificing my sympathy

to small, a single sheep that compels

a sacrifice of success, a  prosperity

for ninety-nine in the fold of safety

but that Nazarene seeking me

taught the folly of not tracking

the lost in whom is my true soul

also lost, waiting to be found

© henry victor     02.01.2004

game is now over

statements taken out of context

twisted and perverted truths

half-truths, lies, and more blatant lies

woven together with graphs and hard numbers

enhancing the appearance of objectivity

to make the unsigned written statements

sometimes contradicted and at other

corroborated between the accusers

that accused to condemn, also assassinate

the character of a person, nay, themselves

the game, in any case, is now over

i must be quick to re-pack my bag

with jersey, sweat socks and boots

to be on my way home

scores are unimportant

performance is irrelevant

for sure, i kept my calm

and did not collapse

my wife that last refuge and comfort

will anxiously wait with hot chocolate

that i may drink to sleep tonight in peace

to journey tomorrow into another calvary

© henry victor

emptiness

a million dollar diamond

and a priceless pearl

these were my possessions

as i continued my journey

to that well lit city beyond

with deathless life

i guarded my wealth

even as i passed through hills

and vales to enter the region

with chasmic ravines

crossing breaking ice bridges

often falling and then crawling

and creeping again

to ground that was harder

but only to throw at the end

the two, and myself

jump into that emptiness

never to be heard

never to be reported

© henry victor

below and beyond

when i lost my soul, i know not

where i dropped it, i remember not

now, for sure, i roam soulless

but with a heavy burden
stepping into every optometrist
in town to enhance my vision of the transcendence
that i may ease my weight in the soulless soul

many have offered cheap advice, quick fixes

and pointed me towards radars
that will teach me to be quickly noticeable

but i’m bent to probe that being

that prompts my becoming
below and beyond all radars
both secular and pretentious

© henry victor

my ashes

deep inside my heart is a dark cave

where my locker is locked with the key

the digits of this number-lock buried

deep below in the depths of my mind

unknown to the wide world around

are these poems, ashes of my pain

and poise, a secret content that converse

silently while sitting in the unlit space

these hitherto unpublished prosaic

thoughts, will they be read in public

later, or further interred with my bone

will forever, for me, remain unknown

© henry victor                  29.05.2016