Sunday 22 May 2011

THE END OF ROTATION 
 
Analysis of life often moves on the
Edges of curved multiple lines,
In the center point soul illuminates
Day and night, the dot of desires
Emerge often through the darkness,
In the speed, it looks beautiful, as
Tiny particles, in millions, sometimes
It breaks the rule to touch the core,
Nucleus tries to avoid collision, the
Perception, always carries the
Message for evasion from the thorny
World, but heart forces to mind,
An unseen attraction appeals to touch
The bloom, the trapping planet
Has rhizome shaped branches to seize
The internal sense, it paralyzes
The persona through the nerves, this
Crux has limitation, it cries, weeps
However, removing the pierced spines
Is hard, it blocks the cavity with sweet
Pain, the affection makes the wound
After severance, the inner layers
Of soul remains ineffective as coconut,
After breaking the external coat, it
Flows toward the inclined surface, the
Unfolded corporeal frame remains
On the sea beach, oysters shell searches
The luminous kid, butterfly is out of
Vision, some silky spots on the palm
Lines calls the memory lanes, the waves
Slowly recedes, yachtsman disappears
Moon swings on the low tide, silently!
  • SHANTANU SANYAL

IT’S NOT THE END
The psyche of prophecy was hollow
Nothing gone to wrong, the twilight
Had possessed beauty of life, predict
Of last judgment shattered as star -
Sometimes sinks in the dust of space,
Pretended speech had the short
Influential impact, echoes lost way,
The mass eyes looked the sky with
New optimism, the magic to trap the
Emotion failed, it’s true that who has
Born in the planet, has to die one day,
Why uproar on the horizon, the dawn
Is predetermined, just wait to see
Blooming flowers on the leafless twig,
They stoned on the glassy dreams!
We crossed the river, as declared depth
Was only knee deep, some left over
On the edge waiting for low tide, the
Destiny didn’t wait for confused traveler!
Reaching to other end, nobody had
Time to look back, the green pasture
Has greeted us, civilization stretched
The branches, the migration has its own
Glamour, since primitive era its flow,
As nomadic river creates way itself,
The offspring of blasphemies playing
On the monolith, black rock, nothing
Has changed, the creation plays with
Inhalation, breathing says the sky
Has numerous destinations, it’s not
The end let us to gaze the beauty of life!
  • SHANTANU SANYAL