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I noticed the sudden silence
balanced on the off beat
of a carol left incomplete,
but after a while I found
- despite my long belief -
I was enjoying
the competing peace
a little more than the jingle,
the insistent hush
more than the chimes
the spreading rest
more than the dance.

And I put it down
to the close knit company.
A quieter Christmas, what with one thing or another.
~
A fire built within

We come together
we break apart

A wind that blows past
and does not return

Carnival of light
moving colors
in the overcurrent

Where is heaven above?

You'll only hear
the hummingbird
skyward bound

Before finally combusting
somewhere in
the upper atmosphere

The resulting cloud
is probably still up there
— more proof that it pays
to shoot for the stars

~
 Dec 2021 Swapnil Duryodhan
Colm
Like a fish in water
He swims
Through rivers of paper
And shelves of public influence
To find
The original place
Of every paperback not in place

God bless this service
Thankless task
on we go
alone we grow
to cradle grief
and seek relief
of final breath
that quiet death
would unto us
at last bestow

- p. winter
intrusive thoughts go brr
Winter crept in through the back
he left the door ajar
and through the door blows bitter wind
from Canada and afar

with frosted wand he touches leaves
the climbing plants and trees
and leaves them all a-drooping
bereft of nature's weaves

with cape of grey and mountain black
he tiptoes through the shadows
and in a year he'll 'gain be back
to lay waste to field and meadows
Every night  
before I sleep
I close my eyes
and begin to weep

I lay there watching
the curtains sway
In a room
I painted black and grey

Will the morning
ever come
why do I hope
to see the sun
when tomorrow
I’ll be going mad
hopelessly
feeling numb
life seems tasteless
as yesterday’s donut
all greetings are heartless
devoid of empathy

hard to find meaning in a universe of stones
there’s no pulse on the moon
why chase answers in physics or math
if all is relative, where’s the truth

is the life of a beetle
less important than mine
at what level is self
from the viewpoint of quarks

and yet deep within
I have a desire to understand
I yearn for sensitivity
And requited love
Flowers
are my real friends
I know their language
They're
never
crestfallen
Our friendship
is a blessing
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