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 Feb 2023 SUDHANSHU KUMAR
ymmiJ
quiet snow descends
blankets muttle earthly breath
shrouded in pure white
You preferred the sunrise
But saw only gloom
Seeing your best friends
Smile
Tucked away in your memory
Took over
And
Lit up the room
His smile did that

For Marles
Life is a process of resolution, not reaction.
Slender and humble in its youth
the oak grew in moist earth near the bayou.
Roots pierced the dark land
ate the rich gumbo
silently morphed facets of soil
into a heart
with unexposed power and poise.

Across the bayou
on a screened porch
a young girl watched the new rain
make puffs of dust in the dirt
she daydreamed in the drifts of clouds
and wondered where they were born.

A young man and his friend
off the beaten path of their travels
found the town pool.
Swimming, he saw the beautiful girl
perched above the deep end
and across longitudes and latitudes
of loving, laughing, and weeping
they birthed and raised a family.

The bark’s ridges and gaps reveal
centuries of storms and floods
the oak’s long limbs laden
with life, wisdom, and altered environments.

These two entwined lives enriched
by learning and prodigious practice
their wine a vintage
of passionate enchantment
imbibed by thirsty learners
across decades beyond ordinary borders.

But she like the oak
with open arms
her strength born in good soil.
Hers is a rare power of gentle love
hers a courage born
of some cosmic connection
at the heart of her beautiful humanity.

Dedicated to my cousin Melanie on her eightieth birthday. Both of us born in the Durand line in southern Louisiana not too far from the Evangeline Oak near Bayou Teche. Our lives were seemingly divergent but somehow parallel and ultimately connected, I think, by a power greater than ourselves. If you are interested in more, please see: https://www.currierpoems.net/teche-series
I'm a fat old lonely toad
near the end of my road.
I have no helpful advice
except to just think twice,
throw birdseed not rice,
never naughty but nice.
Cruel kids **** me in fire.
I die within my desire.
Nothing's really left.
Life is a small theft.
 Feb 2023 SUDHANSHU KUMAR
Doshi
Arizona sunsets
all encompassing hugs
a stranger's compliment
a familiar, once-lost song
fleetingly transport
to a time before
before yearning, before loss
Moments that quench my thirst
and remind me
I'm right where I belong

If only they added up
and made up for
the seemingly missing -
a pair of lips pressed against mine
someone to share the mundane
For now I embrace this
Hopper-esque combination
of peace and melancholy
nostalgia and (be)longing
hoping these little joys
will be more than enough
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