etching not my image

after sufficiently resting

i now sit silently

in my quiet home

neither hot nor cold

i sit with my note pad

and pen with desire to write

desiring also to teach

transform my daughter’s heart

but i know too well

gods and goddesses will permit

not to etch my image in her soul

or my mind to dream for her

a Lewis Stephen

a Blessed Teresa of Calcutta

or another simpleton, an activist

a campaigner of clean air for all

i also know, for sure, that boat

making is never taught

but only caught

in silent shores of the deep river

henry victor      12.03.2007

 

town is empty!

death is in the home, inside

or is it out on the road

i am, right now, confused

Wednesday cannot be so quiet

that too at 8.00 A.M!

i have this ghostly feeling

being unkind to my little girl

making her walk the ghost town

she detested so much

before picking enough courage

to finally fly away from my cage!

i myself would not linger

around a cemetery for so long

if i am not an undertaker

busying with burying pain

and counseling the grieving town

henry victor     26.09.2007

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

imitating the cougar

help me imitate the patient placidness

and the love that let goes

inbuilt in psyche controlling the strong

the swift, and the slender mother cougar

let the same permeate my mind and nerves

pervading my life even as i prepare

my only daughter for her life ahead

knowing, at the end i cannot live

my daughter’s life!

help me, then, learn my lessons

well from the truly self-governing

sage of the jungle: the cougar!

© henry victor     20.09.2003

free

my double bed

keeps my single frame
free and warm