Deepayan Purkait

The Scarecrow & Its Friends Piece in making.

Worthless Human Being Little puppies with bigger chains Caring owners with vacant brains Most of you buy them to get attention If it was school, you would probably deserve detention Some of them are bought and some are not  But abducted are both from their mother and few other Born not But brought up in homes Of human parents who take these puppies on roams Spending on their collars, harness and toys Spending on their food and even more toys But few of these parents leave the puppy locked In a room when they are on other work Cry,cry, does the puppy alone  Shiver a many runs down its bone And when returns the parent the puppy is ecstatic But do you dear ones ever think of the sorrow and the plastic Make up that you wear trying to look nice I would say these are beings not tags of price But I am not a vegetarian, I love them crunchy meat Yet I speak of dogs and their sorrow? Prejudiced am I? Maybe I am I do not flinch an eye whe...

It is all there, there in the wide and almost endless inventory of nature. I simply arranged few gifts in a certain manner. I am insignificant. My art is too, when compared to the greatness of the great mother.

Birds & Branches

A Fragmented Heart Tell me sorrow, how long must you caress me? Will you not let go ever? Ever I wished, to befriend joy I would not say, I have been happy never. Intricacies of the human mind Can I ever even realize? For I have let go most wishes to Understand another human. Love always seemed to me like a far off isle Who's shore is all I ever could see Glistened my eyes like polished chrome Blinded by it's beauty. In metaphors I shall present Few words of truth Of how I gave away my heart to few The gift was refused I, confused Received the red and to my bed I succumbed Cried a lot, that I did Many a time when from all I hid My cushion has seen the most of me A fragmented heart Was always returned to me. I always wondered why it is so I still wonder the same. There are very few who love me truly Everything else seems more like a game. My mother and father has been there always And secretly my brother too. My grandparents have been the mos...

@ Ledge Jadavpur University

Humble Little Me Humble little me wished to climb that tree The one with many branches. It stood tall by a certain plain clad in beautiful flowers Each branch split in many others And they themselves in many more I have perhaps climbed a little few or a few more. Humble little me always wondered How vast the tree it was! How many branches does it truly have? Humble little me could never take count. Maybe no one does know truly If it is 10 or maybe a hundred more. Humble little me as my mother always told me, Is a monkey and that is fine with me. Good climbers they are,monkeys, I always told mum. Art is my banana tree And I always enjoyed being bad, and free.