your absence

my morning silence is silent

overflowing with emptiness

empty of disorder and fight

with each other

no quarrels, no arguments

no shouting, no yelling

hence, no hugging

nor kissing each other

shoes in place, beds

spread with no wrinkles

no power 92, no super station

wash-room light knocked off

my afternoon too, the same

continues, also in the evening

and in night for another morning

with emptiness with your absence

henry victor     12.08.2002

 

loads of love i did provide:

food, clothing, and security

i supplied in hefty quantity;

language skills and logic

i did not hide from her;

travel abroad and to towns afar

with exposure to beauty and beast

too was never in small amount;

yet i failed in my adventure

to instruct and inspire

my posterity in the path to success,

sitting in front of screen with my muse

i craft that crap, the broken line

calling it poetry to amuse

none but this silly self, the swine

indulging in miry excess

© henry victor                 07.08.2004

learning to conceal

there is a lesson my baby girl

never seem to learn repeating the mistake

betraying her own mischief making me

proclaim: ‘i have eyes at the back too’

she secretly dumps her breakfast

and gives me a hug as if all is well

and she had her full, forgetting i too

have tread that lane in telling my yarn

sooner she will have to learn the art

of concealing fact with a controlled distant

even when urged to traverse that space

before she walks free from her stunts

© henry victor     12.12.2003

made-able

he is tall, and taller than me

fairer too, with a fatter purse

an allowance monthly, three

times mine, yet walking behind me

or alone, like a homeless beggar

about to fall on the road, hence

needing a stronger prop;

despite the schooling, the bigger

expense paid in full by the state

still he can neither count beans

nor make sense of the weed and wheat

in what he reads there on the slate

he can, for sure, see a dime on ground

even thirty feet ahead of him

but a sparrow on the fence front of him

always is black and will never be found

numbers dead and weapons of the world

war two, for sure, he knows it well, exact

facts and with assertive faith will proclaim

it too, but his potentials are a different world

© henry victor      22.08.2015

cornered or enslaved

“cornered”, commented your conscience!

i know for sure you have a conscience
one that you have now, carefully, cornered
for your convenient cornering others!

but as for me, i am enslaved, and you hinted

in your note with the first two, and the last two words
you hand-picked, like you hand-pick tomatoes
in the store before you store them in yours

once we understand who we are in our essence

the rest flows swiftly like in an unblocked kitchen
sink where beyond all violence all is cleansed
before we go for rest or for our recreation

henry victor     05.01.2015

 

from your son

mommy! you made your slim and sensual frame

into a shapeless bundle, bundling my being inside
you for nine long months, keeping me, a worm, warm,
free from hunger and thirst, marks of the world outside;

and today! you struggle to work so hard to remain a mom
of great affection, cuddling me, as you march to a profession
greater, and your time for me is likely to reduce, to dim
like a lamp gathering smoke soot on her facial expression,

like your mom before you, travelling that path of darkness

prior to teaching you skills to swim, to avoid sinking in a pool,
without that settling in a trailer park, to bike and hike, distances
incredible to inspire me, that i may avoid the way of a fool!

henry victor     12.05.2013