etching not my image

after sufficiently resting

i now sit silently

in my quiet home

neither hot nor cold

i sit with my note pad

and pen with desire to write

desiring also to teach

transform my daughter’s heart

but i know too well

gods and goddesses will permit

not to etch my image in her soul

or my mind to dream for her

a Lewis Stephen

a Blessed Teresa of Calcutta

or another simpleton, an activist

a campaigner of clean air for all

i also know, for sure, that boat

making is never taught

but only caught

in silent shores of the deep river

henry victor      12.03.2007

 

the blue jay

let me be swift as the blue jay

flying into my bird feeder

not to fill her mouth full with greed

or sit there to own

to persist on living in free food

as if it is her right;

let me, then, move swiftly

taking into heart

life here is but a momentary breath

bringing here nothing

and take home nothing

knowing well in mind

the swiftness of my flight

much, is dependent on my disowning

this bird feeder

my present status!

henry victor      27.05.2007

Note: In photograph is, (perhaps!), a Brewer’s Blackbird (male), a temporary replacement for my Blue Jay in the poem!

letting go

folly in mind holds tight what is not
his hurting heart refusing to release
energy required to see beyond
the current bog holding being

like a dead elephant with legs up in air
from becoming the flying soul
with power to soar higher heights
than the strongest eagle

plummeting to bottomless
pit, un-retrievable now until
he learns the art to un-attach
the enslaved enslaving one

03.08.2012