posting in ghost towns

i drive many hours

through ghost towns, abandoned

poetry groups, planting words

with pants and images

with wings to flutter

inside hearts like butterflies

decorating the walls

hosts have left behind

for guests passing

through zombie towns to post

their songs; but the brainless

seldom see music

leaving me to dance alone

with not even a single applause

testing my inner mettle

to roam the towns

bereft of taste and depth

of rational, observable substance

henry victor           11.12.2018

to grace and mercy

water is murky and turbulent

and i lack the tail of a sea horse

to dance for joy with a partner

or to anchor self in my new house

neither do i have the advantage

to carefully camouflage like a chameleon

as i loiter among the many predators

lurking with strength and big numbers

hence i turn to grace from high above

and mercy of the conservationists

themselves struggling to retain sanity

in this arrogant insane community

© henry victor     18.08.2003

at the burial-yard

i prayed fervently

for a child to take my name

and gently hold my finger

as she walked her days

and nights to teach me

the art to age!

ignoring my petition

he dropped you in my hands

with grace to spoil

and teach you

the science of kindliness!

then i prayed again

to dry the womb, to remove

all threats of filling my heart

with a step-fatherly love!

for i knew the sweetness

of snuggles and cuddles

for a healthy girl!

and now i age

evolving as a grand-dad

with a step-father at my burial yard!

© henry victor          30. 06. 2016

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