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Remains with you
Give it back or keep it..
It's upto you.
A piece of you;
Which I have got,
Please take it back with you.
The world has its strange ways
to remind us how small
we really are.
No matter how high we rise,
we always fall back
head first to the Earth.
It's like a weird problem
that we have,
a world where everyone claims
to be modern
but our thoughts are medieval.
It's like we are all two-faced
and dual natured.
Is there something called
mass bipolar disorder?
Because I think that is what we have.
Everyday we push ourselves
towards the void,
a gaping pit that is waiting
to swallow us a whole.
Everyday we try to climb
the ladder of opportunities,
only to fall flat on our face.
It is a strange dichotomy,
coupled with flea-infested
poetry and serenaded
with brainwashing ideologies.
We are turning into pawns now
manipulated by clowns and jokers,
who don't really care about us.

Tanay Sengupta, Copyright © 2019.
All Rights Reserved.
This is the most straightforward thing, I have ever written. Read it and you will understand, this is the only **** time I will ever write anything like this.
The little waif,
She seemed scared.
I do not like dreams,
She said.
Holding my hand in hers,
She felt secure and slept
And did not dream.
As of then
There was nothing to fear,
I had closed all doors
Opening into her mind,
It was still daytime.
When she awoke
She gave her shoulders
A slight shrug,
Patted her hairs
And stared at me
As though imprisoned.
Suddenly a dog ran by
Chasing a cat
Who was chasing a rat
And my reverie broke.
I never saw her again.
What a beautiful thing it is !
A Canvas that speaks a lot
Wow ! an artist’s soul
That try to speak a lot
From the window of canvas
To the doors of sky
Till the depth of ocean
In the romancing moonlight
And spreading its vastness
As the fragrance
Of night blooms
Until the sunrise
Again from morning dews
To chirping birds
Snowy mountains
To windy breeze
A moving cloud
And even from rain to rainbow
All is possible
With the tip of a brush
Is a marvellous thing
That depicts an artist’s heart

An art is a creation
Of an artist
Which is made
In different colours
With different paints
And in different shades
But all in one canvas
Makes an effective painting
Which can never die
As an artist’s soul
That is lightning forever
As a magical lantern

Some paintings speaks a lot
Like stories to us
When it starts speaking
The whole image depicts
It’s originality
As an original photo
Of some place
And that really can lost us
Somewhere as in the canvas

Even eyes of a portrait
Speaks a lot
When we stare in that eyes
It seems as the person is gazing
As a living person is standing in front of us
Which feels like a real photo
And it really makes
An unbelievable painting
Which is like giving life
To the non living thing
Within the canvas
By an artist
Or like a flower bloomed
In the hands of an artist

Canvas that speaks a lot
Really shows true heart
Of an artist’s creation
A beautiful creation
By ones own hands
Mesmerise all of us
With no time
Like an original picture
Taken with a camera
Of high resolution
Is something to adore
With the hearts of love

Canvas that speaks a lot
Is a graceful creation
That makes us wonder
Which is a miracle
In hands of an artist
That remains its effect
For life time
And that make
An artist
Different from others

Canvas that speaks a lot
Is a creation of art
When an artist starts
To move his hand on canvas
It starts to speak a lot
From the sincerity of love
To the beauty of a nature
Sparkling eyes of a human
And the depth of a sea
All that beautiful creation
Of Godly things
Is once more painted
With the help of an artist’s brush
Is something that speaks
For a lifetime
With thousands of words
In one image
Is an exemplary
Creation of humane
In a canvas

Canvas that speaks a lot
With voice of heart
Beats in every hearts
And in all eras

An artist is like a lantern
That lightens other lights
And a canvas is a mirror
Of an artist’s soul
That reflects the lights  
For lifetime
Which was once lit
By an artist
With a great deal
Who was owned
By an eloquent soul.
Dedicated to my loving father who was an artist is no more with us. I personally  lived and experienced the life of a canvas with hands of my father is something to adore more than in words. Memories and the paintings on canvas can never die as an artist’s soul.
You are different
Or unique
Not only in queue
But also in view
If you can do anything
To many things
With its simplest way
In somewhere
To let it know
To someone
In sometime
Is something
In everywhere
With everything
In the surrounding
Of everyones
Uniquely differentiated in difference is something divine in someway.
A rain of words
In the rainbow of sky
Is like a cup of tea
Enjoyed slowly
With the essence
Of tea leaves
And cardomom in milk
With the atmospheric sights
Of a cheering sun
Shining in the morning dews
Of green grasses
With a refreshing air
Is an amazing sunbow

Rainbow of words
Is like a miracle of colours
Painted in the deep sky
After the hurdles
So as the clouds
And the shining droplets
Of rain

All that makes visible
To the shining moon
In the dark sky
Gathered with twinkling stars
In the hearts
Of nature’s blessings
Is the moonbow
Which is tried to express
With the colour of sky
As the rainbow of words
Is a miracle of colours
Rainbow of words is expressed with the colours of sky.
Sometimes poetry
Mostly life, unwritten quotes
Destiny shall write
Destiny‘s might

The zodiac stars

Shone bright

To bring together


Of different kinds
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