spicing my creativity

pain, fire that purifies gold, my soul

and patience, cooling time

for the settling of my mind

are spices for my creativity

constructing my poem, my life

making my song from deep

within my heart prompting a dance

for my body to increase flexibility

for the river within to flow freely

into the wider ocean, eternal cosmos

with neither birth to celebrate

nor death to mourn

henry victor          04.05.2010

too early

too early to dive, to swim

or for fishing

too early to make love

to make a nest, or for dreaming

some yell at the lake still frozen

to dive, swim, or fishing

some, perhaps, more matured

wait, patiently, until the wind blows

and the sun softens to melt

thick ice to water

that the fish may come up

to peep, to celebrate the spring

and sacrifice their flesh

that you may eat and drink

to make love

and multiply before you leave

henry victor      11.04.2007