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SayantanDasgupta
SayantanDasgupta
I am a young academic who loves reading and writing. I am a bookaholic and bibliophile. My preferred writing genres are poetry, essay, short story etc.
The ocean cries its freedom with the passion that is older than its waves. Trembling surface searches for the shore but the moonlight never reciprocated its love. I have seen a hundred lifetimes veiled in a thousand lies. A thousand lies scattered in the sky of a million broken stars. The sloping roof planes try to hold onto the river. The river flows away, shattering the heart of the stony terrain And carrying pebbles as the memory of a faraway love. I have witnessed a hundred rivers crying for a thousand birds. A thousand birds escaping the captivity of a million cages. The restless wind tried to gather memories of the fallen leaves. It makes the grass shiver with an incurable heartache. The decaying era of a forgotten monsoon rain Comes back and saturates the pilgrim of time-worn reminiscences. No story left untold. No heart remained unbroken. All tales got entangled into the epic of the universe.
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Aug 3, 2018
Aug 3, 2018 at 12:49 PM UTC
The Universe Carries a Million Love Stories
You are the forest of my dreams. You sway with the wind and tranquilize the unsettled horizons from restless cacophony. You descend with the nightfall and melt the angst of advancing insomnolence. You embrace the immure Sun and echo the wakefulness of a fading garden. You whisper in the breeze and the Spring embosoms the fallen Autumn leaves. You are the forest of my dreams. You are the enchantment of my screams. You travel through the perpetual reminiscences of an endless pathway. You dance with the grasshoppers to the anthem of the reawakening civilization. The syllables from your voice create a bird's nest in the branches of my endless thoughts. Your unearthly tranquility creates ripples on a decade old river that flows through this ancient lover's timeless memories. You are nature's sweetest hymn. You are the forest of my dreams.
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Nov 11, 2017
Nov 11, 2017 at 12:35 PM UTC
You Are The Forest Of My Dreams
A lost ship. A broken heart. Sailing towards the isle of salvation. Ripples in tired streams. An ache in the heart. Waiting for the moonlight to absorb its stagnation. Sky remains unfathomed, but roads went adrift. An asphyxiating voice tries to make the last call. A lost ship. A broken heart. Tries to touch the waves with its entrancing touch. Nobody heard the lost bird. Nobody saw the distressed eyes. River flowed away from the eyes of a dreamer. Storm approaches and stuns the existence of cynics. Defeatism evaporates from the broken pieces of a pessimist's heart. Clouds shrink and wars end and world survives. A lost ship. A broken heart. An abandoned port. A numb body. Silence creates an empire of lost voices. Days end, nights end, life begins to wonder. Light comes, darkness comes, blinding the eyes. A ship left. The lost ship. Heart sinks. Along with the lost ship.
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Jul 15, 2017
Jul 15, 2017 at 2:38 PM UTC
A Lost Ship. A Broken Heart
Don't ask me to describe you, I will start explaining why the world is so beautiful. Don't ask me to look into your eyes, I will start reprimanding the birds for their hollowness. Don't ask me to follow the trail of your appearance, The clouds will come down to swim in your hair. Don't ask me anything regarding you, The world will never worship anybody else again. Insurmountable sky, but when I look into your eyes, I can see farther than the horizon. Irrepressible storm, but your hand guides me home, And the pathway seems to lighten up for me. O the last rays of the Sun, you can take all that you can, But you can never take away the unhindered hope that is all mine. You can never take away the love That cherishes its belongingness in the dark and dawn.
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May 10, 2017
May 10, 2017 at 2:20 AM UTC
You and the World
The fluorescent Sun burns, the sky remains silent. The last shepherd left, meadows sing of atonement. Tender wind blows, miles between us cry. Omnipresence of love spreads across the sky. Beyond the stars, we will meet. Beneath the Sun, we will meet. And if the night comes, At every dawn, we will meet.
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Apr 7, 2017
Apr 7, 2017 at 12:05 AM UTC
We Are Forever
A little flower that needs to bloom. Let the sunshine come. A little child who wants to live. Let her sing her song. An unfolded bud that wants to get wet. Let the raindrops fall. A little girl who wants to stand. Let her stand alone. A fluorescent rose that decorates the nature. Let it be nature's pride. An audacious woman who shakes the earth. Let her be society's light. An alluring flower that illuminates the view. Let it show its worth. A valiant woman who wants to shine. Let her shine the world.
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Apr 2, 2017
Apr 2, 2017 at 12:05 PM UTC
Let The Flower Bloom
I saw a fledgling in the window of my house, Drenched in rain, looking for shelter. But before I could reach the window, It flew away... I saw it struggling through the raindrops, Looking for another shelter. Then I lost its sight. I lost it forever. I know I will never find it again. I should have kept my window open.
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Apr 2, 2017
Apr 2, 2017 at 1:15 AM UTC
In the Window of My House
A demure river converges with the sea and turns into a scepter of intrepidity. My eyes try to follow every ebbing wave into the strands of illimitable resurrection. The wind carries the clouds toward a ruffled terrain and turns sunshine into rain. Reckless movements seem to convey the act of solicitous tenderness. A forsaken lighthouse on a deserted island tries to revitalize the ship that never arrived. The enlightenment seems to brighten up its separateness From the world of decreasing congeniality. The resplendent pasture seems to absorb the colour from the verdant trees. Scintillating dewdrops variegate the cusp of the grass like an exhilarating crown. The inaudible murmur of pastoral life wraps the passing day in its tranquil impeccability. The lucent stars seem to burn the vacuousness of night with its satiating fire. Nature seems to have become the harbinger of my lost words That long ago manifested my dauntless but wretched love for you. The uncanny omnipresence of the unbarred memories seems to amalgamate The unreciprocated past and the abeyant present. Stirring thoughts in an invigorating mind seem to lose its scrupulousness In the midst of these harrowing days of ruthless truthfulness. The metaphors of nature seem to have juxtaposed with the feeble pieces of my fragile heart. The ineradicable retrospection of moon-sharing nights seem to have emerged From the irreducible darkness around me. The twinkling shadows of inseparable hearts seem to converge Into the enticing hills of the unlit valley. The honest moon seems to have lost its sagaciousness in the night of relinquished lovers. The closing day is enamored of the festering odor of onrushing annihilation. The transcendental road to salvation merges into the heath of transcalent despondency.
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Apr 1, 2017
Apr 1, 2017 at 11:53 PM UTC
Pessimistic Renascence
A demure river converges with the sea and turns into a scepter of intrepidity. My eyes try to follow every ebbing wave into the strands of illimitable resurrection. The wind carries the clouds toward a ruffled terrain and turns sunshine into rain. Reckless movements seem to convey the act of solicitous tenderness. A forsaken lighthouse on a deserted island tries to revitalize the ship that never arrived. The enlightenment seems to brighten up its separateness From the world of decreasing congeniality. The resplendent pasture seems to absorb the colour from the verdant trees. Scintillating dewdrops variegate the cusp of the grass like an exhilarating crown. The inaudible murmur of pastoral life wraps the passing day in its tranquil impeccability. The lucent stars seem to burn the vacuousness of night with its satiating fire. Nature seems to have become the harbinger of my lost words That long ago manifested my dauntless but wretched love for you. The uncanny omnipresence of the unbarred memories seems to amalgamate The unreciprocated past and the abeyant present. Stirring thoughts in an invigorating mind seem to lose its scrupulousness In the midst of these harrowing days of ruthless truthfulness. The metaphors of nature seem to have juxtaposed with the feeble pieces of my fragile heart. The ineradicable retrospection of moon-sharing nights seem to have emerged From the irreducible darkness around me. The twinkling shadows of inseparable hearts seem to converge Into the enticing hills of the unlit valley. The honest moon seems to have lost its sagaciousness in the night of relinquished lovers. The closing day is enamored of the festering odor of onrushing annihilation. The transcendental road to salvation merges into the heath of transcalent despondency.
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