pen

when

there

is

nothing

to

pen

why

scratch

head

like

a

hen

scratching

ground

that

has

no

worm

making

her

poetic

cluck

cluck

and

cluck

sleep

and

if

woken

by

a

hen-pen

early

tomorrow

words

will

flow

from

pen

as

eggs

from

hen

henry victor     11.08.2002

bliss in ignorance

in ignorance

and more

in ignorance of one’s own ignorance

there is a perfect bliss

the bliss of a tortoise

inside her secured, secluded shell!

in ignorance

nothing is ever complex

for all are too simple

and for all

one has a simple answer: God’s Will

surfacing from the shallow waves

on that sea of ignorance!

but drown me, O my Master

in the depth of the ocean, the confusion

that is generated

from the multitude

of the multifaceted truth

or in that drowning, that death

there is, for sure, my bliss

my own restlessness!

henry victor      21.09.2007

foolish fish

a foolish fish am i fattened with folly

to swallow an un-baited hook

while already trapped in a trap

that manipulates my own excess

now i wait for generosity to un-hook

and keep me in that closed corner

letting me feel closely a providence

a grace to swim though in tiny space

and before extinction to mouth

creative curses on those enjoying

the extermination of others using sly

methods ignoring also their conscience

© henry victor       19.05.2002

a courageous chase

i was scarcely seven! i remember

my father, a soldier, a thunder

chasing a burglar sneaking to thieve

chicken in middle of moon lit night

in that unlit rural village

the following morning others strutted

my father’s foolhardiness

as i chanted his courage

and when my daughter was seven

the same drama unfolded, demanding

my heroic act! but miles away

in this excessively lit hamlet

and i, a frightened chicken, woke my wife

to let the crook know occupants awake

to switch on security lights; others beamed

my wisdom as i cogitated my cowardliness

© henry victor     04.04.2003

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

schooling in diplomacy

i have often wondered why Jesus was not schooled

in diplomacy, nor his predecessors took that path
and whom you call to put your word in their mouth
never have the opportunity in art of tact to be drilled!

your providence, i know, have not failed to fill

in every brain the basic wisdom, the common sense
but will not your word make an easy and a smooth sail
if wrapped up well in that skilful human noose!

hence every prophet of yours walks into that Golgotha

bleeding and bleeding to death, an award you bestowed
on Jesus, that innocent man from the ancient Nazareth
who not only spoke your simple word but also lived!

 

release me for sleep

i am tired, feeling drained

much talking and more silence
like Elijah, hence, i turn to you for you
to take me out of the world full of woe!

not that i detest hurt; but pain

with wisdom i lack in my hand
taking none to the target; and
miracle, i know, you decline!

winged angels, i feel

no more; if so, why not
to me you incline
ears, and let me to you go

for evildoers life is easy, i know

they are quick in wit
and spring from a hollow
soon to set up their might!

no road

i am repeatedly at cross roads

and every road i see in front
invites my eyes to walk, to enjoy
the scenes, promising also the secret

path to the depth of my soul

the God within, my own home
from where there is no more walking
no more work, nor search for rest

some roads i trod went to money

while others took me to grab and heap
and some showered on me great status
but none to self just under the feet
 
henry victor     01.03.2014

Photo Credit: Gitanjali Victor

a battle i won

a battle i won
without fighting my enemies

those thousands of black

green-bugs
that invaded my new home
with no fence
nor other defence
frightening my frail folks
and peace loving self
that too on the very day
i moved in, totally unprepared for a war

but i fought them

not with ammunition, or a sharper weapon
but with compassion
providing them in plenty
their drinking water
their eventual grave