blending

by the river i bend down

to note down

in my note-book

for i hear the water flow

but see not the bottom of bed

not even knee deep

i breathe the fresh air

but creeps that ugly doubt

i think i feel the pollutant

inside the hairy cave

as my eyes gaze across

the floating smoke

but breeze brings closer

the tall grass

while the flower on crown kisses

my cheeks

does it also say:

take it easy

now i become truly aware

of my ignorance

of the music of another language

earlier my eardrums

did vibrate

for songs of winged friends

and my eyes

transcending colour

determines my career and size

of my worn out wallet

there, once i saw

the transcendental unity

the perfect blending of north

with south

with a clout of the latter

in the human litter by the river

it read, SUN-RYPE:

apple banana with citrus pectin

and natural flavor

a perfect dried fruit snack

recommended, also for those striving hard

to keep harm count low

henry victor      18.06.2003

triumphant city

plenty of preparations

too many high-rises

busy planning and working hard!

implementing a scripted plan

shifting even the pole star

bending the Ursa Major

establishing four divine worship

in a single cathedral with tall steeple

leaving no room for rest

little space for impulse

not even little for a spontaneous

geese flying in for nesting

beside water holes

a resting before a flight back

when heaven here break

forth for hibernating

pouring purity

the snow once more!

©  henry victor       19.03.2016

factory smoke

from your footstool, a comfortable cradle

you placed me i hesitate not to meddle

with my ever fattening factory smoke

thicker clouds, i cherish to make

trapping me tight behind those bars

from which neither me nor my princely progeny

will ever escape like a turtle trapped

under her own unyielding roof

thus with my shortsightedness i build

greater momentum to cause first, an hasty

homicide, moving then, to a silent suicide

pushing, further, to a genocide and a globocide

while the sulfuric stink from my artificial cloud

that deteriorating dead carcass shall pierce

through the ozone layer keeping pure the cloud

you send to refurbish my life at your footstool

© henry victor     15.10.2003

aging of the ocean

when i was nine

i have stood by the ocean

many times, to see her smiling

singing to me songs of hope

as i smiled with enormous amusement

observing her shore, fish that played

and coloured crabs that walked

sideways, all so close

 

but as i grew older

i have watched the sea aging

and now lying, an invalid

stinking with layers of rotten oil

as if she had never changed

her underclothes

and bathed not

for too many aeons

© henry victor     22.10.2003

purity of souls

an amazing togetherness i witness

in the functioning of the mother earth
and the father sun, her eternal partner
to maintain the purity of her springs

despite the quick gathering of impurity

in the brook running away from source
the place of her origin, like refugees
and immigrants towards wealth

as the loaded muck in the river

running to the ocean but never
beyond to eternity, the rain cloud
for a re-birth of another pure soul

henry victor      27.04.2014

Note:
Dedicated to Mario Flores
and Gitanjali Victor to be wedded
on May 17, 2014.

picknicking

again the four men like gulls
are loud at the picnic table
crossing my path on the walking trail
that i cautiously chose

listening
attentively to the heart
and mind of my ears
and eyes, my invisible being

now tired of men, women, children
and automobiles
with deafening noise level
damaging my fragile ear drums

in this step fatherly
land these men in mother
tongue make up with such excess
for the scarcity of picnicking

07.08.2012