huge is not great

never be ashamed, oh my self

to stand before the proud

and the insolent might

with your eloquent simplicity

knowing always that which is huge

is not great

and pride is always short lived

and never everlasting

crown yourself, oh my soul

with humility

the very nature of the divine

and the truly wise men and women

knowing always that which is huge

is not great

and pride is always short lived

and never everlasting

free yourself, oh my being

with freedom of the wind of God

and of the hermit

possessing neither home nor possessions

knowing always that which is huge

is not great

and pride is always short lived

and never everlasting

henry victor     20.12.1992

pitching your tent

 

pitching always your tent

where i have pitched mine

beside my neighbor’s

you remain my lord

you are my peace

from above

a light from heaven

with life like an ever-flowing river

to quench my thirst

you are that glorious whole

the most holy one

my feeble feet discover rest

in your place

you are the pioneer

that stone in the corner

by being my servant

serving me in my need

henry victor     02.02.2003

return from the banquet hall

every time i walk into a banquet hall

joining a company of female

and male celebrating the gifts of life

i return with a heavy heart

and a load preventing my sleep

blocking also my speedy dream

superficiality like shallow water

in the river of civility

and hypocrisy, the dark backwater

of learned bunch

smart inside my heart

also affecting my wit

like the way my gut

suffers after i have eaten

tasty food wherein black pepper

powder is sprayed in excess

in diet served as banquet food

henry victor     22.12.2003

stealing heart

with your grace i pilfer

from your own bounty, first

the small, then a little larger

until at the end

your largest grace too

but i will not be satisfied

until i have stolen your heart

or you have mine

henry victor     07.08.2002

painting fresh

let me wipe your canvas

erasing the previous scribbles

you may once again paint

paint your fresh pictures

your new grace, or roll

on it as you drool

from your soft lips

that have kissed me much

or can i pick the raspberries

from my bush i have grown

before, to me, you were visible

and blow the worms away

henry victor          22.07.2018

    

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 

end of my claim

the tiger, i said, is a creature of habit

hunting down, unlike me

with no concern to abstract

that thought

a compassion for his prey

despite senses acute

his is an insensate brain

with limited memory

and power of prediction

until into his mouth

went my brainy brain

and there did end all my claim

© henry victor           20.09.2004

 

 

saw not your face

sabbath is lonely, full of pain

as you take a break to rest

and i saw not your face, even

once, to whisper my love

work days are burdensome

yet, providing a private space

for my shoulders to touch yours

your soul, for my soul to notice

i must let you go today, realize

i, for you to hide your face

from me, for you to retain

your essence for more peace

© henry victor

dominant self

i’ve never understood whether it is in nature

or it’s part of my prejudice filled psyche

that emanates an immoral, ignorant fantasy

of comfort and convenience for dominant self

a trail i see also in acquisitively hungry animals

authoritatively roaming with impulse to demolish

all that contributes to their own inner insecurity

a simplistic solution that diminishes opposition

that challenges my own authority and infallibility

with no space for any form of inclusive thought

discerning only a threat in alternative attires

with implications to slow but sure death to myself

© henry victor     14.04.2003

my will

am i overly stubborn in imposing my will

rejecting your will, in my failing to see grace

in freight unloaded, regularly, at my feet

or, am i lively, very vibrantly, otherwise

adding life to a decaying soul like the mountain

lion, the cougar, pouncing dissolutely at the hunter

with his gun like will hounding the creature

who as a hermit already withdrawn to a cavern

my quest, however, is for wisdom, that light

from the abundance of your mercy to isolate

the black thread in the dusk of my life, and yield

to your will even in my defeat suspending mine

© henry victor

Note: Josephine’s shirt here reads, “When I grow up I want to be me”, expressing, perhaps, her MOM’s inflexible will!  (IHV)

time and need

extremely poor have no time for you

neither do they have need for eternity

when this one single life weighs so heavy

and leave no space for ease or rest

extremely rich have no need of you

neither do they have need for eternity

when they have all in one single life

with much time for ease and rest

it’s i who am neither rich nor poor

has need and time for you in excess

for i have fear i may end up poor

with that desire to imitate the rich

© henry victor     29.04.2003

the hoe, the rake and the wheelbarrow

the hoe, the rake, and the wheelbarrow

my constant companions of yesteryear

provided me healing to body, mind

and my soul, transforming also my land

the hoe, the rake, and the wheelbarrow

those simple tools with greater output

fed bigger mouths with larger bellies

grounding me on a very real ground

the hoe, the rake, and the wheelbarrow

the pen and the pencil of humble poor

wrote on pages of the mother earth

for me, the scholar, to read and live well

© henry victor     25.04.2003

restless storm

senseless suffering

and that starvation

my body faithfully carts

to the end, my goal

death, decay and destruction

are marks imprinted

in my immortal soul

and my spirit soars high

and higher

as i beat hard the harder element

that curtails my journey

to greener fodder

where body finds food

and soul rest

and until that break

i’m restless like a storm

going straight and, at times, in circle

knocking down

and knocked by forms

loosing vigor

and gaining strength

henry victor     25.04.2003

To My Eternity

Your whistling

I clearly heard

Your colour

I see not

Your name

I know not

But

To my eternity

I take you

Note: This poem was published in Songs of the Street, Volume V, edited by Arlene Williams & Ron MacLellan (2002) with the following editorial note:

Henry Victor is a published poet with two collections of poems No Tears (1998) and Frail Floret (1999). He uses poetry to promote more humane values, social justice, cultural pluralism and communal harmony. He believes that his task is to give “some voice” to the “voiceless”. “To My Eternity” was the winner of the “The End of the World” category of the Songs of the Street poetry contest, which was sponsored by Inner-City Pastoral Ministry. Other poems by Henry can be found on pages 19 and 46.

juggle

i do not juggle with three balls

the coloured and the soft
neither do i juggle three stones
the triple solid in the air

but i juggle Fred, the four

and the forty four years
and also that sliding
in between the moments

and wonder the purpose

humans come to live
in their turn to juggle the living
the dead, and the thereafter hours

henry victor

 

 

never an outcast

when in my speech your voice is not heard
or, my movements make your being invisible

or, my songs do not convey your melody
or, my lines express not your poetic utterance

still i fear not a rejection but i am assured of acceptance

from you; for your embrace is not due to my conformity
to your will, my walking to the beat of your drum
that i seldom hear; nor, for it, my will is strong to submit

but my nonconformity to those who laid hands

on my head and those who claimed to love
and belong to me by blood and name and tribe
reject me, pushing me to the edge as an outcast

18.07.2014

you and me

absent in your person and subtle
in your work, for you profit

or loss is immaterial but my heart
hungers as wit wires my soul for gain

as if to carry away to the beyond

to that world of nothing like a monkey
meanly pushing grain, fruit, and nuts
into those pouches, stuffing speedily

before climbing higher to a higher

branch hoping to carefully avoid
in this present height, this world
the loss of funds, faith, and my face

henry victor     06.06.2002

 

cardboard box

not a recyclable cardboard
box am i
yet considered a garbage
out there
waiting to be transported
removed
from the face, the familiar surface
with my face already
removed to be carted with neither
labour nor fuel

recyclable cardboard
box if i were
i would not be considered a garbage
out there
instead baled up and thrown in the back
of a truck
along with tons of cardboard
to be carted
for miles to that hydro-pulper to soak
my face, my whole being
giving me a new identity
for a cardboard box unlike me
has a second chance, another life

08.08.2012

Uncivilized

Wearing shirt, coat and suit
I viewed the utterly naked
And considered without any doubt
The semi clad as unworthy uncivilized

Arrogance permitted not to take account

Of my excess and unwillingness
To share the great numbers of out-fit
Making the other expose and me greater uncivilized

20.03.1997