the scarecrow

you were hardly seven

amusing me with heaven

with your success in tricking

me with a hilarious scarecrow

that Tina, our pet dog

mistook for a prowler

in our garden of shoe-flower

barking loud with fear

at a scarecrow with shoulders straight

wearing your torn frock for dress

and a curd-pot for head with face

chalked on it, your first artistic creation

henry victor     09.09.2002

my manuscript

i cannot believe i let you sit there

but i am not surprised

for i know you knew how to push your mother

to the back seat

while you pestered

me for the driving seat

as well!

this morning, i sit here

alone and stare at this picture

for many more minutes

quickly rolling down the many roads

we drove together

at times singing

other times fighting!

i remember

as soon as the deer hit my windshield

you refused to sit in front!

what a thrilling journey

for me to scribble this graffiti

a manuscript

i will take it to the Eternal Publisher

after yet another longer one

but without you!

© henry victor           15.11.2015

Brian Chan, my Edmonton poet friend, first met my only daughter Gitanjali when she was about eleven-years-old and battling cancer. Since then he has repeatedly told me “Gita is the leader of your family”!

For sure, she has been leading the themes and the moods of my poems. She dictates, very lovingly, what mask I should wear at a specific moment. Into her nuclear family of four, plus her pet dog Sophie, Gitanjali has now carefully grafted me as I wait eagerly for the longer journey to my Eternal Publisher with my manuscript!

Henry Victor

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

 

 

she is outgrown

she is, for my love, outgrown

no longer, with my love, can i own

in any case, in my yard i did not seed

her; for certain, she is, a sturdy weed

now i must let her go, her kind

for her to multiply, and my mind

with heart, and soul together bind

and let go my memories all behind

and like a drift-wood me flow forward

making sure, the river bed does not hold

me back tempting with a toddler like hug

until beyond that ocean, surely i, out-log

© henry victor               23.08.2017

change

seasons change, with it scenes that create

moods and perspectives change, changing values

that change priorities, also, changing memories

with it change faces, changing the change in faith

garments change, with it, music that make

tastes and emphasis change, changing homes

that change addresses, also, changing friends

with it change foes, changing the change of habit

work change, with it the vehicle that carry

identities and personalities change, changing change

that change seasons, also, changing the author

of change, changing decay, and even death

© henry victor     06.05.2003

new and evolving memory

those silky colourful curtains on my windows
frail memories to my past days and nights
you tore it into pieces like the crocodile
tearing the flesh and drowning her prey

that zebra, innocent animal who came

to quench his thirst in the African water-hole

this act of scattering a precious person

Justin, my grandson judges as brutal

and wicked considering a monster

like you not part of his new and evolving
memory rooted well in the cuddling
of the grandfather, making him cackle

12.02.2012