today

i am not posting a poem

i need to revise, myself

today, eliminating

much i wrote in the past

i chose wrong words, theme

and faulty rhyme, forcing

in too many alliterations

strengthening suppositions

seldom i let go, but with care

and un-forgetfulness, hoarding

my hurts, instead walking away

from the folly of yesterday

  

henry victor         17.01.2019

i build my today

divorcing the lunatic asylum

of yesterday that gave my roof

bed, food, and park to roam

around as my best comfort

i build my today in the thin air

on nothing, hoping my heart

will soar into tomorrow, better

than my many yesteryear

in the name of good human

husbanding, fathering, later

in a grandiose lunacy of owning

my name i helplessly stole earlier

henry victor          17.01.2019

flooding of the Blue Nile

an emptiness clouds around

a feeling of losing battle

not just in one front

but in many fronts simultaneously

continuing coughing also causes pain

to flow like Blue Nile

from throat to other limbs

not for nourishing

but for destroying life

above all controlling

the freer expression of words

like a poem refusing the making

making me a poet unpublished

walking into the pit prematurely

i have cried many times to Heaven

above, and deep within

to release me, my little self from chain

preventing my flight into freedom

where i am no longer enslaved

by the little that thinks big

henry victor      01.06.2007

nothing to nothing

he died alone

with barely a cloth

merely to cover

just his loin

a cloth? Yes

but not to take with him

no! but to make the other

feel a little better

and with it

he left a challenge

a deeper thought

an inspiration

again, a muse

to return

making me disown

all i foolishly own

or, i strive to own

even that love

i have for him

who is nothing

henry victor     22.10.2002

i offer

at your invisible feet i offer this set

of bones of this body, mind and soul

this disjointed person, myself, like a poem

incomplete, un-poetic with rhythm

evaporated like the dew drop

on the tropical wild grassland

refuse not this inconvenient offering

unsystematic in its playing

of that flute, emptiness, the mysterious

hollow in the middle i missed control

with my licking the edge, the solid

casing that shone and my spirit misled

© henry victor

dew on my lawn

like my mouth watering after a spicy dish

when my stomach is empty, last evening
my heart craved that highway leading
to nature’s carving the million-year-sculpture

that unambitious hard work, Grand Canyon!

but my sober soul suggested something else
to run around prompting a Nikon, or a Canon
a pair of better eyes and mind, a larger book

to photo-write, to note, to store to play later

and with others, also advertise my, already
overweight and extra-large ego lost
this morning like the dew on my lawn!  

21.07.2014

‘lord have mercy’

i, like a feather fallen from an unknown

bird, am drifting alone, blown in an arid terrain
that wilderness of a loveless world
watered, enriched by the scarcity of gold

that mammon, an idol washed and worshipped

with liturgical music, pious rituals, and spiced
with sacred silence, with and without a person
in priestly garb, naming me, victor barren

the wind here fights and battles with emptiness

breathing out the refrain, but occasionally, ‘lord
have mercy’, while the lord of the creation
like Jesus of Nazareth naps on the boat’s stern!

28.06.2014

 

abyss

my wings faltered and into an abyss

i fell from where i saw a deeper hole
within the cave of my heart, and more
i lingered there, i saw more craters

bigger, creating a deep void within

and the more i pondered that hollow
within the more frightening it became
and the gulf outside too stretched afar

i thought then with what shall i fill

that chasm deep within my soul!
from that drift, an alienation i am
how do i free myself, my being?

henry victor     01.07.2002

 

a piece of poop

i see my nothingness clearly yet becoming
a bodhisattva is nothing but a mirage
unreal water good not for quenching
thirst of self, tired of search among poop

lee and scum people leave behind in cup
unlike that of the creatures bigger but smaller
brains for palaeontologists and the likes
to construct and instruct me the path

to nirvana, that extinction, a blowing out
to me a smaller a crow on the tree top
that worthless chicken poop in a fowl cage
walking on ground with shoes with no grip

making the walking tedious and frustrating
looking always down on the ground
unable to see awesome scenes around
to spark fire in heart, an energy for soul

henry victor     21.02.2013

still waiting for a kiss

much that i wanted i have acquired
yet emptiness fills my colossal hut
most battles i fought i have won
but a feeling of losing the war fills my heart

thus i sing the song of melancholy

still looking up like that croaking frog
for the kiss of the prince to transform
me to a princess to be happy thereafter