THE DESIRED EXPECTATIONS

as forest fire,wounds of heart

awaken, in midnight

in far away on river bed

alone sand piper calls

with painful tune,

once again bamboo trees are

flared in the life,

every moment wild blooms are

falling down, one by one

stable flow of heart

agitated, consistently unsung

message knocking the door,

in the wet breath, a face

sinks,floats in sequence as the

half opened the petals

of aquatic liliy, shivering in the

moonlit gental wind,

drowsy night is decorated by

the galaxies, stars

clouds have removed the

hydrous tent before end of night,

the oisis is settled on the

opened eyes,indeed caravan

of dreams were relaxed

for few moments, the drops of

songs dripped too,the

memories illuminated with full

spirit,but isolation of

heart beat remained as usual,

sky had poured complete

milky light,I tried to smile

it reached up to lines of lips !

gradually,but before the morning

all shattered in form of

dewdrops,on the landscape

the region of chest is left over

as rain rejected the arid land,

the thirsty eyes gazed

the sky with desired expectation.

--- SHANTANU SANYAL 

The circle of flame

The circle of flame

some designs as rock paintings

on the walls of ancient cellars,

roams whole life in search of

Haecceity,meaning of existence,

emotional radius often pierced

ambit of unexplained perception,

Deceived by geometric signals,

Life was geometry or a general

philosophy, We just simply -

entangled in pseudo lotus stalks,

how the night had been passed

difficult to say my dear friend,

the soot of eyes was washed by

horizon,seashore was lost in an

unfamaliar skyline far away, often

echoes returned back empty voice,

though I called them consistently,

who left whose hand, where, how

they added themselves, its difficult

to say the cipher of equation had

solution all the time, just ourselves

we have drawn the circle of flame.

-- SHANTANU SANYAL  

THE WORLD OF SURVIVAL

That morning, which could grant?

A smile to every face, a meaning

To survival, I often dream, to see

Amused droplets of life is falling

From the blooming tree, that fresh

Wind, those hidden love is restless

On the leaves of lotus, into the

Upheaval surface of humanity’s lake,

That feeling to feel the pain, I’m

Waiting to look the emotion on the

Everybody’s heart, wet benevolent

Eyes with full of generosity, a vast

Chest to embrace all, beyond any

Prejudice, chauvinism, or underlining

The classification on the doctrines,

Let extreme thought to die, just

Think a human for human, erase the

Definition of century old, planet

Desire peace and love to make the

Planet beautiful, redecorate the

The ruined heart, heaven is so near

No need to search across the skies,

The beautiful land of love is

Located one and only in the heart,

Let explore that lost paradise.

• SHANTANU SANYAL

The game of illumination

Something more was hidden

In to the mystic eyes

The melted tear drops

The up down breathing graphs

The pre-monsoon rains

Soaking clay fragrance, drizzle

Familiar sound, do you knocking

The door or it’s the contemplation

Brat evening and spoiled night

Emotion enraged sitting on the roof

Numerous fire flies-

The game of illumination

Continued whole the night

The shivering lips, unknown touch

Humid chest, last submission

Slowly you left the hand

The train picked up the speed

Its midnight, standing alone

On the deserted platform ---

----Shantanu Sanyal

THE ADVENTIST OF MONSOON

The advent of striking blossom

All over is rapt under the craving

Of beautiful nature, in your eyes

Dreams are knitting the novel of

My love, in the environs of your

Shadow the countless sprouts

Are unfolding the tender leaves,

On pages of diary an unknown

Fragrance has written the poetry!

Thrived, wild trail goes across

To the misty forest, my emotions

Follow to your consent, to get

Revival on the land of acacia,

Weaverbirds twittering with the

Love song on the branches of

Tiny yellow flowers, in the eastern

Sky colored clouds have made

The enigmatic contemporary art,

I’m searching the sanctuary into

The depth of your eyes, its heard

That a shaman has inhabited

Internal your heart, desires are

Roving as cotton clouds, to get a

Monsoon touch, don’t wipe the

Wet lips, let the drop of passion

To be scattered on the field

Of thirst, long inhaling emotions,

Looks towards your face as the

Full of belief, a planter waits for

Rain, with delicate expectations,

Let allow me to touch the

Butterfly wings, before the spring

Evaporate its beauty and flavor

• SHANTANU SANYAL