last request

since i have had my share

of pain, painful, and pleasing pleasure

i plead with you to take me

home now to be with you

like me wrapping my mat

after napping a whole night

in case you decide to delay

i do not ask for a relay

of pleasure and pain

but a quiet desk, and a pen

for the flow of my fable, my gory

to transform into a soothing story

henry victor     27.12.2003

double stars

like the double diamond

i bought for your pendant

i thought the double stars too i own

i mean you, my soul, and your son

my mind, hence, endlessly craved

to light my grotto, my simple life

with your bright light, the laughter

you brought, and your son later

but the lustre in the light

inside the cave of my temple

where brighter memory is venerated

as the creator of poetry is now faded

© henry victor           07.07.2015

death gives life

death, the destruction of the bee

at such a great height

leads not to the end

but yields to a new hive

from the new honey will ooze

boosting novel life!

defeat, destruction of victory

after patient endurance

leads not to the end

but yields a fresh muse

transforming thoughts

into lines, prompting peace

© henry victor     23.01.2004

hope in change

change is at my door step

i must welcome her
old lady who occupied my main floor
is leaving my home

i must let her go

with her there in my upstairs
was much whining
and i had no time

to relax, or

take care of my sugar level
and my old dreams were
frequently nightmarish

while my sleep was shallow

and my stomach half empty
making me a dog
walking with no purpose

change is likely to clean up

mess the old woman left behind
scrubbing floor and countertops
before thinking of a new menu

and a new venue

for dancing and singing
driving further away my baggage
burden of bygone days and nights

© henry victor

floods and sludge

cooking food, cleaning pots, pans, plates

and other cutleries surged, overflowed
like a spring river in my May days
and nights with no pause even to evaluate

either their relevance, or the quality of my life

that now carried floods and sludge with speed
though i, like brother Lawrence, the sage
applied my heart and soul working to bleed

without counting cost but rejoicing

in my washing feet cracked and dirty
a relevant, realistic imitation of Jesus
than that ritual on Maundy Thursdays
 
that made only my ego bloat year by year
but neither the present work with great love
satisfies my inner person whose still small voice
i hear not very clearly to change my path

henry victor      21.05.2012

releasing the anchor

fear of depth and hesitation
mind’s preoccupation
with shark is only in the shore
the beginning of a voyage
an opening of a business

further in open sea challenge
is to enjoy those gulls mindlessly
surfing, sitting on the ocean

as rowing your little vessel
continues, like a walking exercise
of a man stingy with time,
to cross the chasm

02.08.2012