an emerging poem

the poet steals from a conversation

his soul has with the world

stubbornly refusing to yield

pouring the same into another mould

to conceal carefully from

the world, the co-creator

of the conversation

naming and owning it as his poem

the poem is now a witness

to that chat in a sanctified

sacred and secret cave, poet’s heart

expressing a vital experience

for this a whirlwind is not necessary

a simple occurrence, a little storm

in the tea cup is capable

of vibrating a spirited song

henry victor     05.08.2002

smashed soul

i make a mental note, or a verbal promise

then go and put off errands forgetting

my commitments like a potato to simply sit

not following through the unspoken word

or in haste spoken

though they still define

my being, my reliability

and soul’s integrity!

my following through, in fact

my negligence is also followed up

with greater care

now sitting on the throne

as judge with mitre on head

and fire underneath

to slice self before it is fried, or boiled

thoroughly before it is mashed

a verdict i may not cherish

looking for more energy to bury self               

as deep as i can so no gods may resurrect

to haunt, or hunt me

when i’m already burdened

with too many baggage

broken promises and unfinished tasks

to fly away, or to run and hide!

henry victor     09.08.2002

soling the soul

you stood outside my door for so long

before i let you in; now, for you, i long

to keep you in my embrace, to explore

every aspect of your being, head to toe

i want my nerves to feel your heart beat

on my chest, an unrented bed in long wait;

it was actually due to fear of bed-bugs crawling

to suck blood from a heart that is pumping

but last night the very thought of you

created that most beautiful tempo

for both my peaceful deeper sleep

and nightmare free hike for a poetic soul

© henry victor           21.01.2016      

blend together

these are that i need most

and these, together i must blend

speed of the fastest horse

gentleness of the gentlest woman

sure footing of the slowest tortoise

sluggishness of the laziest sluggard

patience of the most patient hawk

wisdom of the greatest sage

business of the busiest ant

crudeness of the carefree teenager

courage of the fiercest lion

fairness of the fairest judge

roughness of the roughest rock

innocence of the innocent infant

sweetness of the sweetest sugarcane

bitterness of the collegial rival

vigilance of the watchdog

study-habit of the studious student

sharpness of the sharpest knife

firmness of that autocratic dictator

smoothness of the cloudless sky

charm of the charming youth

vanity of the prettiest peacock

quickness of that courtroom advocate

wakefulness of the nightly owl

greed of the greediest moneychanger

hardness of the hardest coconut

wit of the wittiest Shakespeare

© henry victor     17.09.2004

two together

desperately i try to create calm

deep within the cave of my heart

while secretly surfing on the storm

whistling outside, snarling at my want

to beat all swirling inside my soul

treacherously betraying my spirit

climbing, combing a higher mountain

clinging to the goal, the gold crown

thus i carry within a single self

two corpses:

a stillborn child

and my own

© henry victor              18.08.2004

my dream

disgusting realities

my awake mind

refuses to let my eyes see

but when my eyelids are shut

my heart reconstructs

scribbling a perfect poem

a nightmarish dream

with graphic imageries

to haunt my soul, transcending

fear, words and lines dropped

on paper and prompted by vanity

i, then, name it, my verse

© henry victor     25.03.2004

finding my true soul

perceptions leading to plenty

in my purse is to be worldly wise

and practical like the tractable

triumph i first sought much

while sacrificing my sympathy

to small, a single sheep that compels

a sacrifice of success, a  prosperity

for ninety-nine in the fold of safety

but that Nazarene seeking me

taught the folly of not tracking

the lost in whom is my true soul

also lost, waiting to be found

© henry victor     02.01.2004

below and beyond

when i lost my soul, i know not

where i dropped it, i remember not

now, for sure, i roam soulless

but with a heavy burden
stepping into every optometrist
in town to enhance my vision of the transcendence
that i may ease my weight in the soulless soul

many have offered cheap advice, quick fixes

and pointed me towards radars
that will teach me to be quickly noticeable

but i’m bent to probe that being

that prompts my becoming
below and beyond all radars
both secular and pretentious

© henry victor

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

three four nine

three four nine that number  compose

for someone else, to me, too have made

we are into digits and no more

for want, i type a numerical code

earlier integer was only for creatures

behind bars, considering them much less

than persons, but today all figures:

for we are no more humans with souls!

our figures those days had a fine face

and good sounding exclusive forename

but now the appliance knows our face

by plain numeral, or its combination

© henry victor     11.03.2003

extinguishing a fire

a fire is burning within

many times to extinguish

i have tried, with no success

the more i tried dousing

fervently did that flame rise

should i, then, let it blaze

until its own death

buries that flare to revenge

or, should i consume

myself in that fiery wrath

until that little soul

is made pure as the truth

© henry victor

grace i seek

i seek that grace

that sought me at Calvary

i seek that grace

that paid for my release

i seek that grace

that erected an altar in my heart

i seek that grace

that ordained my soul a priest

i seek that grace

that is absent in hypocrisy

i seek that grace

that overflows in common sense

© henry victor     03.09.2003

your remembrance

though my cup overflows

flooding with forgetfulness

of those many graces

that you have poured to brim

of my unfolding, my becoming

your merciful being so gently

continues to knit, to mend

my frame, flesh and fibre

to let your spirit flow

in your sacred temple

where you have installed

my soul to be the priest

to celebrate the world of my commerce

your sacred altar that invites all

to sit, eat, and sip the drink

your remembrance, my pain and pleasures

until in you i merge

like that little brook

running towards that large

ocean embracing all flowing

© henry victor      24.04.2011

your feet alone …

you are my first, and also the last

i need none in the middle except you

and nothing will satisfy me

and none as you would

it is your feet that i feel

in this pitch blackness of glamour

and it is your formless face

my eyes fixedly gaze

into your body my soul longs

to penetrate, to curl, to coil to sleep

like that viper under the log

though strength to crawl i lack not

gold and girls, both young and old

and many other i craved to possess

soon i learnt they are nothing

but a distant hot summer fantasy

as for you, you are that living spring

welling in my spirit, flooding my bed

to float, my soul to soar beyond the cloud

to that perfect silence, that poise inside

  

© henry victor

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

arms to embrace

you have given me much moons

and plenty of many an opportunity

yet i remain absolutely empty

but pleading from you for more!

awake now my soul! for it is time

to rise from sleep and slumber

to un-hoard the clutter of desire

in that nothing, the ego, act as if all

instead stretch your arms to embrace

the homeless, the hermits, the marginal

and the bleeding, walking also to the jail

to set free the broken-wing birds to fly!

© henry victor       02.01.2016

the stupid wretched

in your presence i am speechless

and my vocabulary, an empty cup, inadequate
to describe my view, and my concepts
of you falter to provide a handle

to deal with your splendid Being

so huge, too large for my puny mind;
hence, i sit still and in silence my soul
wonders, wandering into the Ocean, the Soul

but i am trapped in that cage i have built

carefully for years fifty and more eight
increasing my urge to cling to the un-cling-able;
rescue this wretched from the imminent death!

stand

with an empty pail i stand to cross

the road flowing with speedy traffic
but i know not my path, nor the point
i need to be later at the evening hour!

will i, then, meet an angel to help

me dodge death at the road-side
filling also the empty in my hand
to make my travel worthwhile

and, at last, climb on the stand

to be announced a true victor
even if i am deprived of an angelic
visitation as i continue to stand
 
henry victor      05.03.2014

dandelion

uncluttering i prayed for, several times,

in my cave, an increased hollowness
in my inner self, that void in the flower
yellow and smart, first to beat the winter

claiming hope, a spring, surviving summer:

a witness to the egoless divine incarnation
brushed aside as a bastard, a commoner
unlike the pompous popes and sly power

conniving with priests and lay at all times

with a pogrom on souls with colorful idols
unreal, unnatural that can never match muscle
in your colour, oh dandelion, my role model

pulling me, and mine, from spiritual sloth

while your jagged leaves are a reassurance
for my broken life, uneven lines of poetry
floating in my heart, my empty soul

winging, like your petals, with no destination;

but only those men and women teaching
children to gallop fast like horses with blinkers
hold you in contempt, as weed, a nuisance

buzzing like honey bees, or jumping like rabbits

others, like me, consider you manna from above
or, your roots to heal, and leaves and flower
for more in milking cows, a providence

henry victor     06.06.2002

 

destabilizing

in vain i sought your assistance for years

to empty from my spirit, the energy

mistakenly placed in human habitat

a nerve meant for the cat family

her relatives

and the eerie woods

that vigor

evolving from eating flesh

and ascertaining right by might

blocking heart and soul

instead opening the muscle

in gentle breeze, flower

and wild weeds

a power contending not

with fellow creatures

and waging not

war with the neighbor

thus destabilizing

the law of the jungle in human hearts

henry victor     16.07.2002