TOUCHING THE REFLECTION

on that origin, flow of compassion never

shrivels, adopts all the sub branches

in its persona, makes the arid

land of life with lushness,

into the profundity

of that heart

exists

the beauty of fairness, the affection for

all human being, beyond the belief

and doctrine, an enormous

stream brings the pious

waves to purify the

deposit sediment

of prejudice,

that’s

invisible, unwrapped conscience can see

across the dense mist, the self image

never extinct, to knowing that,

it’s not needed a twisted

viewpoint, a simple

psychology to

explore

the secret message, which often hides

inner a person under the dust of

ego, if it to be removed with

aesthetic beauty of

nature, life looks

more dazzling,

the infinite

glow

emerges as buried gold coins gets back

illumination, whenever exposed

to water and sunlight, that

authentic charm remains

forever, the nature

is itself the

chemist,

fills the chronic wounds with beauty and

assenting thoughts, only that’s

matter of realization - -

• SHANTANU SANYAL 

  

  http://sanyalsworld.blogspot.com/

  painting by MIKKI SENRICK 

THE CIPHER SENSATION 

immaculate, that aesthetic beauty drags the

inner emotion, toward the stranger

world, a weird uneasiness,

an unknown impaction,

magical yearning,

steps are itself

going to 

invite the storm, or life is in search of some 

extinct, precious glow of love, whorl 

of feeling opens, the central 

cavity of aroma, in the

vigil of night, 

dream 

converting into the passion, washed in the 

moonlight the mysterious mountains,

seems as, far away heady

beverages have 

spilled 

everywhere, walking on the trail or haven't

the sensation of earth and sky - - -

- SHANTANU SANYAL

 http://sanyalsworld.blogspot.com/

PAINTING BY LAURA BLUE PALMER 

MIDDLE OF THE HEART AND ARROW 

that was neither the wet wind sigh of first rain,

nor the love of a glance, something amid

breath and lip, between the heart 

and pulsation,  somewhere

middle of conscious 

and delirium, 

inkling

of your impaction, on the surface of chest -

wasn't dream, in fact, a real feeling

which has filled the life with 

exclusive fragrance, 

that wasn't the

intoxication

of first

premature inebriation of your oceanic eyes,

or probably sweet  paranoia, god 

knows, what was that, in a 

blink the life became

upheaval, I could

think of 

something, that the arrow was across the

heart, did not scream; didn't even

know, and sweet pain 

emerged in the

midnight - - 

- SHANTANU SANYAL 

http://sanyalsworld.blogspot.com/

painting by MARLIES MERK NAJAKA 

THE SENSITIVE EVENING

Seek of one drop silence, the life moves

toward the trembling beam of your

eyes, solicitous emotions 

finds the respite, the

opaque evening

suddenly 

turns

into fulgent beauty, the grove of passion

appears with aromatic scenario,

tranquil waves of river 

valley changes 

the elan,

the dusky sky begins to decorate the -

emotion with multicolored clouds,

somewhere in the corner

of heart, a little

nervous 

desire, slowly proceeds to touch your 

body odor, a natural absorption

becomes active itself - - - 

- SHANTANU SANYAL
http://sanyalsworld.blogspot.com/

source Portfolio Gallery
no idea about painter 

NOT FAR AWAY ; NOT SO NEAR

in the game of sun shade, life has to go 

through the pleasure and sorrow, 

not sure of the moment, 

you've knitted

dream 

for tomorrow, dreaming brings me on 

the infrequent land often, that's

true but life remains on 

the bitterness of 

realism,

on those affliction time, the mystic smile

fills the barren land with sprouted 

hopes, gorgeous horizon 

crystallizes with new

inflorescence 

color,

hearts wants, that stars to be inlaid in 

place of henna in your delicate 

hands, but it's hard to be

true every dream, so 

dormancy and 

wakefulness goes together, behind to 

your charlatan world, sometimes

you're visible, sometimes I'm

extinct, but pulsation 

touches your 

feeling,

- SHANTANU SANYAL

  http://sanyalsworld.blogspot.com/ 

painting by Ross Barbera 

THE OVERALL SOMATIC CHANGE 

on that curve wasn't  the floral world, I knew,

however, a quest, an undulation didn't 

allow to halt, chasing toward

the fen fire made me a

nomadic, maverick

spirit, I've

found the locus finally in your dreamy eyes,

on that confluence point life goes from

temporal to supernatural strata,

self merger process, life

reaches more

ahead

to veneration, as a sacrificial oblation to 

ablaze flame of love, there

imagination of the 

paradise

becomes meaningless, the emotion turn

into hot unalloyed precious metal,

an overall feeling of precision

changes the dimension

of life - - - 

- SHANTANU SANYAL

http://sanyalsworld.blogspot.com/

souce of art - Whispers of silence

THE GLIMPSE OF LIFE

raising up the dense vapor from the quiescent

valleys, as the night reaching to maturity,

misty sentiments encroaching the

persona, walking on the

path of dried

leaves,

beside the shadow of ruined medieval castle,

the creeper of anonymous wild bloom

throws the seductive ensnare

in the moonlit mount of

desire toward to

eruption,

it’s not only hard rather difficult to save the

the wild, unrestrained thought, do not

keep the leaning face on the

shoulder, destination

is uncertain,

let me

to find out first, the shelter for night, maybe

near the shore of milky way, some

where in the mysterious world

of celestial beauty or very 

near to horizon of 

ductile 

emotion as the glimpse of life in your dove 

eyes - - - 

- SHANTANU SANYAL 

http://sanyalsworld.blogspot.com/

painting by Thomas Kinkade 1

THE UNEXPLAINED FEELING 

some unexplained emotion sprawled  

on the floor, as the expensive vase

of glass scatters after slip from

the hands, doleful eyes 

look the agonized 

flower or the 

last 

inhaling fish of aquarium, difficult to -

analyse life without you, the 

floating dreams or the 

desires on the 

surface of 

heart,

frequently wants your fusion into the 

depth of innermost, as the 

aroma of tuberose 

goes through 

nerves to 

mind, 

creates some passionate illuminating 

milestones, on the bed of wild

stream, colorful waves 

writes the poem 

on the chest,

twilight 

brings some romantic news through the

gentle wind - - - 

- SHANTANU SANYAL

http://sanyalsworld.blogspot.com/

art - unexplained - Frechette Fine Art Gallery.jpg

THE WET MOMENTS

hushed of late night, abruptly broken !

something walks with buried legs,

or coming nearer the

exhausted voice

of oceanic

waves,

many times life has called you, while

echoes have been came back ,

but there’s no indication

that you’ve listened

the whimper of

internal

pain, the thin clouds above the hills, -

mounted the illusive rain of

midnight, the wet wind

knocked the door,

fervently I’ve

opened

too,

on the doorstep injured dream was

found comatose, inhaling the

unexpressed emotion,

I’ve collected one

by one all the

pieces of

love,

in end of night, the aroma of nocturnal

wild lily insipid at last, later the

color of bloom faded rapidly,

emptiness became more

profound, life suffers

as usual through

loneliness,

but

this waiting has a rare aesthetic charm,

perhaps! one day the condensed

clouds would be favor to the

arid land of heart, and

life could see the

tiny violet

bloom

on the twig of leafless sentiments - - -

• SHANTANU SANYAL 

  

  http://sanyalsworld.blogspot.com/

  mysterious moon light - Schwärzung für immer...

THE LAND OF RAIN SHADOW

I know you'll not read this verse, but there's

no romance, no colorful dreams,
grayish sky, desolate land,
and muffled grown,
I know, your
eyes
Search my existence in the Valley of Bloom,
though spring has passed long ago,
I don't know why your aspire
has no entirety, while
you've been
robbed
whatever I had, it was an adsorption of last
drop or pseudo thirst for love, I do not
know, a chase continuously by
you behind me doesn't
allow getting a
moment
for a little nap, however, life wants to wear
some decent colored wrapper on
the wounded emotion, but
your unquenchable
desire has no
boundary,
it wishes to see me night and day with a
Zolaistic way, in the name of
realism isn't it, the self -
deception, impound
of sense but
you've
no time to think about that because your love
ends in the muscles and bones, the
the soul remains dry in the land
of rain shadow - - -

- SHANTANU SANYAL

 http://sanyalsworld.blogspot.com/  

sorce - rain Graphics at Kathys.jpg