giving up

in my journey others call life

i kept giving up and let go

one by one my desires even piled grief

i naturally tightly held before

where my bed should exist

at the final point i firmly know

i will lose grip of that last thought

knowing that i let go my woe

now my struggle is to move

never to stop to pick or to pile

to be objective of what may impede

so i may forward go with no guile

© henry victor     05.04.2003

the three magpies

 

three magpies, first i thought

invaded my lawn

inhabited usually but now deserted

by those numerous nattering sparrows

the tiny birds i fed

to their full stomach

ungrudgingly with my generosity

i curtailed towards my kith, kin and kind

first i considered the three magpies

as intruders bent to take advantage

of my kindness

declared in my new bird-feeder

but soon as the three ignored

and went past my exhibit

i realized myself a stupid selfish glutton

that wants not to lose my control

© henry victor     15.09.2003

turning my thoughts

i turn my thoughts to you

i like to see your face
i have questions that trouble me
that i want you to answer

i seek inner strength with an inner cleansing

since the outer remains rotten
and stinking with greed
for power, control, and domination

‘follow me’, is what i heard

and i have followed that voice demanding ‘kingdom values’
submerged and scattered in sacred scriptures
from that ancient world, also in my conscience

those who fear you are few in numbers

and among those who respect your rule
fewer will pick up their cross leaving me
and other powerless utterly alone and speechless

i pray that you multiply those who stand for right

over the many who push, their might
to break the bruised reed
and quench the dimly burning wick

i pray that you give me courage

to walk away like Jesus, empty-handed
when i am crucified, rather then bending my knees
to today’s Herod and Pilate, the insolent might

i pray that you teach me to trust your providence

your unseen presence, and learn that i will, at the end
take nothing into that beyond
hence strive for nothing that is perishing

 

dreaming dreams

after holding you tight in my hand
for a flash in my eternity, now i let
you go that you may dream dreams
of your own; in any case i own you

not, nor did i own the sperm, the worm

that yoked the egg: your beginning
but you made me your bonded slave
whose release now depends in me

letting your hand go, to let you wander

and let you, also, err in your errands
that you may become, truly, your own
that i too may, again, dream my dreams

henry victor     11.07.2002

 

Photo copyright: With thanks to Crafter's Imagework, Edmonton

the three

he holds you tight under his arm-pit

dancing on waves like a wood on drift
with other drift-woods swimming not
to the shore, to you, the eternal rest spot

the other, with you on the same spot

too swims with speed, not aimlessly float
but deep under water with intent
to whirl the water above with its content

the third he steers the rudder of the boat

pretending to swim with others in the moat
his own dug-out, to colonise you and the rest
the submissive slaves, with no quest, nor zest

henry victor     31.08.2013

 

crab in the kitchen sink

i am a Dungeness crab with my claws

now strapped with rubber bands, my food
and my hiding hole taken away, leaving
me seated in someone else’s  kitchen sink

sinking with my manuscripts, pens, papers

and pencils to my death like a doomed rapist
murderer ready to walk, nay, sit on the electric
chair, soon to be flushed out as staunch stink

but even here i have not lost my control

to give, to give self as food, age old whine
my writing in heart, that poem, my protest
against being a puck in the skating rink

henry victor     09.04.2013