Author Archives: Sangeeta Gupta

About Sangeeta Gupta

Poet, abstract artist, documentary film maker. Has 20 published books, 9 collections of poems translated in Greek, German, bangla, urdu, dogri. Writes both in English and Hindi. Has scripted and directed 7 documentary films. Has held 35solo exhibitions of paintings in India and abroad. Based in Delhi, India.

Since I heard that you are unwell

Since I heard that you are unwell
I have been thinking
I must brush aside
all essential, non essential
concerns of the world
sit by your bed side in silence
absorb all your discomfort
softly kiss your eyes
with the tips of my fingers
fill them with kisses of sound sleep
scribble on each of your hair
each of my unsaid poems
touch you with my glances
in such a way that
each pore of your skin
gets filled with peace
hide my blessings under your feet
in a way that  you experience
comfort in a split of a second
sit by your bed side in silence
since I heard that you are unwell
I have been thinking….

You Always Say That


You always say that
I am amazing with words
though I often feel
words are not enough
when it comes to express
my passion, raw and intense
the pain of knowing that
you are not mine
so – so far away
from my mortal reach
I can’t see you
I can’t hug you
I can’t hold you in my arms
I can’t whisper in your ears
that all will be fine soonest
how can words express
how much I long to hold your hands
how I crave for your cozy smile
and that light in your eyes
all I have to offer are these words
all wrapped in love
of thousand of lifetimes
I fail to express all and enough
I brush away failure every time
when you say
I am amazing with words.


is not a piece of territory
not something fixed
and rooted in geography
it is portable and
we carry it with us
wherever we go
it is the essence of
our homeland which blooms
in our hearts.
history not necessarily
moves forward
Sometimes it moves in circles
and sometimes
it even moves backwards
we commit the same mistakes
in same ways
generation after generation
history will keep repeating itself
till we learn the much needed lessons 
life teaches history and
geography differently
than what was taught in school
there we are taught how to read
and write, how to memorise
for getting good grades
for good careers
then we go out in the world
to fend for ourselves
hopelessly ill equipped
what a waste formal education is.

Ends are Beginnings

Ends are
an incessant process
universe destroys
and creates
form to formlessness
formlessness to form
tireless, endless cosmic dance
unknown and yet known
a miracle, energy field
our journey
from dust to dust
from nothing to nothing
part of the universe
also the universe we are
why rejoice the beginning
or lament the end
an incessant process
from dust to dust
from nothing to nothing
ends are

In this era of Darkness

In this era of darkness
learning to deal with
our own darkness
is the only way to deal with it
walk, walk all the way
in isolation
learn to love solitude
at the edge of nowhere
somewhere there is magic
there is light
go all the way
know that
have faith
you are bound to discover it
treasure of abundant light
is to be shared
with some lonesome
that is all one can do
In this era of darkness.

When The Boatman

When the boatman
sings to the river
river laughingly
sings back to him
river songs of
forgotten civilisations
songs of untold stories
of hearts broken on its banks
songs of hope and despair
I sit down in my solitude
lost to the world
I hear quietly
all these songs
of the river
of the boatman
and then I too sing
to you my soul
in utter silence
burning the mid night lamp
wide awake yet not restless ever
songs which are yet to be born
songs which I will never
be able to sing
to you my soul.

Poetry For Me

Poetry for me Is not
the conscience keeper
It is my journal of
inner dialogue
which happens
between me and life
between me and you
what remains unsaid
you never had the time
nor the much needed space
it is a narrative of
sustained pain
of not being loved
or understood
failures and triumphs
narrative of an intimate journey
private yet intensely passionate
from known to uncertain
from logic to beyond logic
from darkness to light
poetry for me is not
the conscience keeper.