parked or abandoned?

just above on a higher elevation

but in front of that Wayne Gretzky Drive

i sit

watching cars, vans and trucks

life

all moving at 80 kilometers

per hour, or even more

over speeding for sure

i also notice a single car

parked, or abandoned

on shoulders of the same road

am i this car doing poetry?     

henry victor     31.07.2002

roaming in eternity

he knows his strength

at least, he fears not

what he lacks

or, what little he has

with a thick skin

of the plains buffalo

he lives beyond a need

to strengthen his ego

or picking feathers for a cap

with an absent need to cover

his head from sun that burns

or cloud pouring  crocodile tears

neither does he need

any paper

online, or offline, to cover

his stinky arse, his poetic farts

wilderness of flourishing failures

a landscape, he much thrives

on, holding tight the horns

of the seasons roaming in eternity!

henry victor            27.10.2018

  

 

loads of love i did provide:

food, clothing, and security

i supplied in hefty quantity;

language skills and logic

i did not hide from her;

travel abroad and to towns afar

with exposure to beauty and beast

too was never in small amount;

yet i failed in my adventure

to instruct and inspire

my posterity in the path to success,

sitting in front of screen with my muse

i craft that crap, the broken line

calling it poetry to amuse

none but this silly self, the swine

indulging in miry excess

© henry victor                 07.08.2004

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

invite

it is the dead that invite

me to their table

as the living twitch

their nostrils

whining that odour

the lack of success my body yields

even as my mind

now ploughs chive and garlic fields

to spice and fill my thoughts

with heart healthy food, to dance

beauty despite pain and death

kicking out luck, that chance

© henry victor        13.08.2017

the poet

i saw the poet picking yesterday’s crumbs

his only possession, the typed manuscript

and dwelling in a solitary habitation

with no one peeping through his window

he’s that lonely hill, far from other hills

and songs of praise never arrive at foot;

he has withstood snowstorms and rains

his only staple food and strong drink

he dumps piles of papers at his door

nay! rejection notes, with more jeering

harder than real rocks they throw at

to cover alive after washing with his tears

© henry victor     07.05.2003

beyond the crown, the miter, and the gown

without the king’s patronage my ancestors alleged

poetic muse will not flow to the street

without the bishop’s consent my associates assume

ministering the marginal is invalid

without the professor’s sanction my progeny profess

search for wisdom does not begin

yet with all my stupidity i did encounter

immortal songs outside the palace

enduring mercy outside the cathedral

and endless learning outside the university portal

© henry victor     11.09.2003

a simple pleading

in your world every victory

i see carrying a defeat
wanting more
and bringing more!

teach me, therefore, the art

of living beyond that triumph
that i may spend none to shun
a potential beat!

pack my mind with poise

that i may walk the foot
in silence, paying no notice
to the throbbing of heart!

fill my marrow with calm

that marks that distant cosmos
that i never yearn
to journey, nor to fix!

make my eyes blind

both to tumult and success, detachment
that my heart may cease
the craving for more to find!

 

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

you and me

absent in your person and subtle
in your work, for you profit

or loss is immaterial but my heart
hungers as wit wires my soul for gain

as if to carry away to the beyond

to that world of nothing like a monkey
meanly pushing grain, fruit, and nuts
into those pouches, stuffing speedily

before climbing higher to a higher

branch hoping to carefully avoid
in this present height, this world
the loss of funds, faith, and my face

henry victor     06.06.2002

 

toad not croaking!

 

like that toad my little grandson brought
from the park you sit in my unkempt garden
with fewer flowers, fruits, and overgrown
tomato and lettuce plants now in neglect

here i neither see you nor hear your croaking

except, vaguely, as i parse your speech, breaking
of light and sound in my dreams i hardly
ever remember as the morning sun so deadly

towards my night i embrace, dearly, with affection;

for it keeps my eye lids shut and feet in resting position,
my invisible heart and mind complacent of the margin;
thus affirming your invisibility, a faith in great precision!

henry victor       01.09.2013

floods and sludge (again)

cooking food, cleaning pots, pans, plates

and other cutleries surged, overflowed
like a spring river in my April 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 the cost but rejoicing

in my washing feet cracked and dirty
a relevant, realistic imitation of Jesus
than that ritual on Maundy Thursdays

that made my ego bloat every spring;

but neither the current work with great love
satisfies my soul where springs a still
small voice that i hear not clearly to change

henry victor      03.04.2013