double stars

like the double diamond

i bought for your pendant

i thought the double stars too i own

i mean you, my soul, and your son

my mind, hence, endlessly craved

to light my grotto, my simple life

with your bright light, the laughter

you brought, and your son later

but the lustre in the light

inside the cave of my temple

where brighter memory is venerated

as the creator of poetry is now faded

© henry victor           07.07.2015

stripping to let in

a complete stripping

to see the naked

that beauty incarnate

is not, for me, feasible

but i am glad it’s possible

to throw away the covering

those chunky blankets, years

of schooling, educating mind

to probe the inner splendour

that my eyes of my soul

may gaze the light

as brightness enter my heart

©  henry victor     12.02.2004

in retreat … i wait

in retreat i wait for a voice

a sense, an assurance
a word of admonition, a declaration
of a direction and i wait

to charge my soul, rundown battery

and i am seated in front
of that window with curtain
rolled, and my coffee cup empty

it is a wintry morning

with a moon waning
yet to set
as leafless boughs sway

and pine branches

have shed the snow
as bunches
of mountain ash berries swing

they add

an extravagant red
to rising reddish rays

but in retreat

i wait
for light
to shine in heart

© henry victor     11.02.2004

i try not to touch

 

it’s 7.10 am

last day of the retreat

again i am in front

of the same window

the curtain too is drawn

to see the beyond

the moon, perhaps waned more

now blocked by the spruce tree

winds are not blowing

but some smoke is puffing

the chimney causing a chase!

i hear

doors opening

and doors shutting

men, women -- nay

priests and priestesses

tip toeing!

i have overcome, i notice

bits of self

i know

neither i belong here, nor there

a thought with which i am

now comfortable;

the moon is still hidden

i try not to touch the moon

© henry victor      11.02.2004

please! don’t fill my cup

my cup is empty

and i have desire

for no more

in this land of plenty

food here taste no more

for my taste buds are depleted

as if x-rays have destroyed

my heart, my desire

in the land of scarcity

there was joy at that time

every instant i returned home

to share potted curd so tasty

© henry victor     11.02.2004

effects made easy

they make things easy

for themselves

walking in terrain unknown

without being blown

they stroll around here

with weighty artillery baggage

that soon transmutes into

my coffin, a heavier luggage

for my daughter continuing her walk

they deliver it from high in the sky

making effects easier

for my offspring as well

and they call this:

“liberation”

but i add the alias

“genocide”

© henry victor     05.02.2004

death gives life

death, the destruction of the bee

at such a great height

leads not to the end

but yields to a new hive

from the new honey will ooze

boosting novel life!

defeat, destruction of victory

after patient endurance

leads not to the end

but yields a fresh muse

transforming thoughts

into lines, prompting peace

© henry victor     23.01.2004