i build my today

divorcing the lunatic asylum

of yesterday that gave my roof

bed, food, and park to roam

around as my best comfort

i build my today in the thin air

on nothing, hoping my heart

will soar into tomorrow, better

than my many yesteryear

in the name of good human

husbanding, fathering, later

in a grandiose lunacy of owning

my name i helplessly stole earlier

henry victor          17.01.2019

i write a poem

sometimes i quickly write a poem

when a dagger has pierced my heart

or a mercy has reached my soul

making it dance to rhythmic refrain

other times i struggle to pen a verse

when desire to discipline is high

or to my daughter exhibit my brain

making her evolve into a genius

on occasion i compose rhyming lines

when my ego is bloated too big

to remain small, humble and modest

making easy an empty expedition

henry victor     23.03.2003

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

costly play!

i do not claim to discern Him well

but i’m certain too many will yell

if, with confidence, i dared to tell

for His play this world and my kind

He did fashion placing folks like me in a stable hell

He always does bring me a copper

when i beseech Him for a dollar

part of that He also expects me to offer

in His temple as the plate is passed for offering

kicking me hard as if i’m not His toddler

i quickly run to Him for rain for my lawn

desiring in sight and in heart much green

He does give me much rain for my lawn

drowning also the earthworms, the jugular vain

maintaining my green, impoverishing my lawn

i do not claim to discern Him well

but i’m certain too many will yell

if, with confidence, i dared to tell

for His play this world and my kind

He did fashion placing folks like me in a stable hell

henry victor      05.05.2007

my ashes

deep inside my heart is a dark cave

where my locker is locked with the key

the digits of this number-lock buried

deep below in the depths of my mind

unknown to the wide world around

are these poems, ashes of my pain

and poise, a secret content that converse

silently while sitting in the unlit space

these hitherto unpublished prosaic

thoughts, will they be read in public

later, or further interred with my bone

will forever, for me, remain unknown

© henry victor                  29.05.2016

tragedy

 

that’s me: a frail curtain

everyone knows of that grin;

now compassion becomes a longer mile

tickling and forcing a smile

actually crying not from joy!

tragedy is a living toy

in midst of tragedy’s strife

visiting the grass beneath grief

emptying now the hall of ploy

© henry victor     22.08.2003

two sides

to escape the cost, the pain

i sought the one sided coin

with which i could buy a ticket

for that sailing across my void

a journey from cradle to an empty pit;

generous compassion, i thought

i should transact to live my todays

dodging the travails of yesterdays

but purer the compassion more pain

was on the other side making gain

repeating that Nazarethean likeness

etching in soul, advanced with soreness

© henry victor

winter is great

i thank you for winter
that hides your flower
and with it all colors

i thank you for summer

that reveals your flower
and with it varied colors

i thank you for seasons

that, for sure, makes me value
flowers and colors fill my heart

© henry victor     22.07.2003

Note: Creative colours in the photograph are from Justin Victor (A child artist)!

 

my roads

i have traveled many roads

highways and byways of varied size

and countless length

i have often journeyed with much load

and at times with none

hardly an extra change of clothes

many nights i have slept on roads

counting the uncountable stars

while being stung by beastly bugs

and malicious mosquitoes

in my sojourns i have met numerous spirits

including Buddha, Jesus, and Muhammad

frequently in perfect harmony

and at times at squabbles and war

in these wanderings

roads that were not closed i cherished much

that i may reach home like a mother bird

to feed the nestlings

but now a road that is closed is what i desire

that i may never leave home

© henry victor     09.09.2003

sun in midnight

i am

with me alone

my tea-candle lit

wavering,

gently

silence surround

but the buzzing in my furnace

and an oozing, a little noise

in my laptop

remind the working well

peace? yes

no peace? yes

that beyond is mine

my quest

understanding? yes

not understanding? yes

that beyond is mine

my present

emptying, that self-emptying

a self-esteem found in Jesus

walking to his tree

lifted high, higher than

any social ladder could lift my soul

if possible, before my sleep

with no dream and no blanket

wool, cotton or the synthetic

most ticks those that itched

my mind and body have left me

looking and searching for other dogs

leaving me to heal the scars

they left on the skin of my soul

i sit alone contemplating

that balm that removes

stain on my spirit

will i find, or not

matter very little

to me now

but i am looking

with that midnight

sun

that matter most

henry victor     05.11.2011

shifting my space

in days of my blindness

recompensed by rare pleasure

and fueled by ever-growing lust

i went into eventful spaces

occupied by men and women

with desire

and living for delight

but in these days of illumination

rewarded by a recurrent poise

and encouraged by an evolving

hermit within

i go now into empty spaces

not occupied

by deaf and blind creatures

dumb to transmit

the sacred within

henry victor     09.06.2003

fences and thorns

i settled, earlier, with quietness

even when thorns pricked as i picked
the flowers, or at times the fallen petals
capturing in my mind the beauty

and the fragrance making self, my heart

to leap and dance to the beat, the music
you write with your constant dance;
but a perpetual pricking of the thicket

and the endless bleeding of my hand and feet

makes me wonder whether i have strayed
away from your garden into a cacti jungle
or is it that you resent my love to jingle

with your beauty and fragrance

in flowers considering it a pilfering
from the garden you are jealously guarding
with fences and thorns that prick!

henry victor     05.06.2002

 

freedom

knowing not from where i came
or to where i am going, in confusion
i called the freedom to wash feet
of another my servitude

now lying naked with more naked

whom i freely choose letting
them freely caress my sensitive
spots i embrace enslavement

my being is blind to the line

dividing freedom that comes
from embracing a responsibility
but with joy and pleasures, lust

09.08.2012