focus

two roads diverged at a junction, as i drove

my Ford Focus wagon on the snow
stormy afternoon: one was highway 651
and the other the Grizzly Trail

with no car behind i slowed down to pause

but was sorry i could not travel both, turning
then, to one looked a white carpet with no trace
of tired tires, or tracks of worn out trucks

with only a discrete distinct focus in mind:

shortest route, quickest way home!
and in any case i was no Robert Frost
to take the one less traveled by!

now, i doubted whether i should return

to the trodden black path, until another overtook
my focus: a deep desire to learn the art
to drive also in the slippery arctic, the Polar Trail!

knowing the way to a colored

an insecure immigrant
can be slippery and cold
altering, again, my further focus

© henry victor     10.01.2003

reappearance of variety

sparrows bathe in front of my home

announcing the arrival of spring

i pulled to roll my curtain on pane

letting in joy birds bring into my hut

the absence of varied colours around

earlier made body shiver and freeze

so i closed all cold and social increase

with it i shut out light with my blind

now with the reappearance of variety

in shade and shape, the extra energizing

i receive for my path and my dancing

locking up tightly the monotony of winter

© henry victor     15.03.2003

winter is great

i thank you for winter
that hides your flower
and with it all colors

i thank you for summer

that reveals your flower
and with it varied colors

i thank you for seasons

that, for sure, makes me value
flowers and colors fill my heart

© henry victor     22.07.2003

Note: Creative colours in the photograph are from Justin Victor (A child artist)!

 

nature’s nostrils

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

did the poplars beat paper calendars

in announcing an imminent autumn
aren’t they nature’s nostrils to smell
air from far mountains, or that farther

coast carrying the frost to soon churn

them into soft snow to scatter in a sombre
mood melting human arrogance to move
faster and fly higher than the tallest hills

soon windows and doors will be shut

air-tight not to let grief of the deciduous
to enter hearts of men, women, and children
creating new music behind barred doors

26.08.2012

Note: A painting done by Gitanjali Victor when she was 12 years old.