tragedy

 

that’s me: a frail curtain

everyone knows of that grin;

now compassion becomes a longer mile

tickling and forcing a smile

actually crying not from joy!

tragedy is a living toy

in midst of tragedy’s strife

visiting the grass beneath grief

emptying now the hall of ploy

© henry victor     22.08.2003

nothing

nothing i regard with importance

to nothing that i am now a slave

gold i seek not, women i care not

triumph i prize not, kings too stir me not

collapse frightens me not, nor poverty

wealth and lust keep aging with time

leading, sure, to death before i die

teaching me i last longer than these

even eternity is beyond me to grasp

and i crave not for that nonentity

myself is, indeed, only lees and scum

and it’s not worth that careful caring

© henry victor     03.05.2003

sun-light

 

sun-light strong and bright

piercingly penetrating

into my infrequently used office

ground filled with snow

and sure, soon it will go

tree empty of leaf

and sure, soon it will grow

pessimistic thoughts and cynical concerns

creeping into mind

like the uninvited noisy sparrows

they, sure, will fly away

my blindness

my inability

to see the snow melting

cause of my weariness

sun-light strong and bright

piercingly penetrating

into my infrequently used office

© henry victor     04.02.2003

reconstructing

with these bleak and busted building blocks

from derelict dreams of my exhausted mind
my trampled soul has dared to dream despite
the bleeding wound in my battered body

this discarded child from that ruined family

earlier neglected student of the deserted village
intends not to bend bruised knees to insolent might
even if he were to be pushed into a ghost town

with that broken pot and empty can the beaten spirit

will continue on that abandoned boat to reconstruct
the wretched wrecked life and rebuild the burnt house
watering also the sun scorched plants in the parched land

henry victor     17.06.2002

 

seeing geraniums, thinking beauty

hundred times every single day

i, with simple lenses, photograph
my geraniums in my garden
to store them in the album

that i take to my eternity;

these blooms are my women
whose faces i gaze upon untiringly!
in them i see Grace, a gift

to an undeserving soul

saving me from gloom and harm,
prompting me to pick up my brush
to paint, adding more geraniums

to that invisible Garden beyond

where there is neither toil
nor need for rest, nor men
or women to entertain a painter

henry victor     01.08.2013

dancing with angels

when in mind melancholy

has anchored like a ship immovable

let my heart hear your whispers

your songs

the un-winged angels coming in winds

both gentle and rough

to unhinge my soul for dancing

after smooth, or jolting shift of gears

altering reasons and changing my vision

lest i sink in mud

that sadness mixed with pity

flowing like water to keep ground soft

and my wings stuck

disabling the soaring of my spirit

toward clouds

sailing on the wings of your storm

on paths high

much higher than above my head

encasing the brain detached

from dancing angels 

henry victor      05.06.2013

optimism

chipped, truly cracked, broken
is my windshield of the vehicle
my automobile that gave my soul
the mobility and the speed to move

that’s my nest, my family, my all
in which i lived, swiftly moved
had my being creating and crafting
my toy toying with my time, my eternity

but George sees this whole in future
un-chipped, un-cracked, un-broken
this hope, or that un-real, the ostrich
total blindness, an optimism

30.07.2012