low tide

i am back, again, to sit

on the rock in middle

of the flowing river

surging, splashing waves

after rising water;

the young men

and plenty of damsels

among them future rulers

too, walking through

the hub mall as i sit

to watch my muse

swelling in low tide

©  henry victor     24.03.2004

moulding the clay

in an unexpected moment you, the source

and content of my being, the providence
dumped into my hand a lump, a handful
of clay to mould, to squeeze into my soul,

with your intent to realign my finger

and my voice to your purpose littered
in a bird with wings free to fly away
breathing a breath of rebellion to rebel,
 
with my pain and pleasures now i clean
a baby’s bum, carry a child, run behind a teen
and beyond, my sculpting a living being
in which is hidden the trends of my doing

henry victor     29.04.2013