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.

Ends are beginnings

Ends are beginnings

your thoughts
your way of living
outgrowing people
once dear to you
rejecting your past no way
your journey it is
travel back ever
not possible
cling to the known
live in your comfort zone forever
not a choice
one and only reference point
is your connect
with the universe
the only eternal truth
to move on towards
your better version
you realize
that you  have
outgrown yourself
it is the end
a beginning as well
you are reborn
not knowing the next step
not sure of the next breath
is the miracle called life
you move with
your trust and love for life
outgrowing yourself
is your faith in life.

After crossing seven oceans

After crossing seven oceans
and thousands of miles
You will touch
the moist morning soil of my city
the rising sun will
get a glimpse of you
my city will soak itself
with your presence
will transform and
never be
the same ever
though I shall
wait till eternity to see you
I will touch the moist city
try to feel  the air
for your fragrance
look for your footprints
and write a poem on them
my words will linger forever
in the soul of my city
only you will
not be there to know
the longing of your twin soul.

If you can not be a poet

If you can not be a poet,
be a poem
You decided to be the poem
and I the poet.
All your telepathic thoughts
touched my soul
and became poems
On my lonesome path
nothing seemed to be known
nothing seemed to be certain
I cling to you my poems
these were not mere words
they were my little tiny candles
in the darkest of nights
I walked in the storm
by myself
I cling to you my poems
and the journey from
nothing to nothing
became so worthwhile.
If you can not be a poet,
be a poem
You decided to be the poem
and I the poet.

Faith softly kissed my forehead

Faith softly kissed my forehead
whispered in my ears
you are safe in her prayers
she is an angel.
Courage hugged me
and said you can not give up
on yourself as yet
get up, do what it takes
her prayers have to be answered
she is an angel.
Sun flooded my being
with its light
Commanded firmly
rise, rise from your ashes
be reborn
I give you new wings to fly
sing  for me
I miss your songs
Go bloom in
million of hearts
Who are worthy of your love.
My phoenix you are
destined to rise from your ashes
Reborn and sing again
Songs of LOVE.

I burn the midnight lamp

I burn the midnight lamp
compose a song whole night
So that you wake up every morning
with a new song in your heart
sing  my angel
sing the song of hope
love and light
Earth and sky both
need to hear you singing
Cosmos is craving for
your kindness all the time
sing my angel
I burn the midnight lamp
compose a song whole night
So that you wake up every morning
with a new song in your heart.

Ask Yourself

You take pride in
boasting about
you are a HOME MAKER
ask yourself
are you also
within the four walls of
your  home
are you even a consultant ,
a participant in the process of
decision making
I am no crusader
just a fellow traveller
on this earth
who is asking you
an uncomfortable question
you are not bound to answer
but I seek your indulgence
please question yourself
more often
who are you
what is your purpose
on this earth
because you are
a soul
not just
not merely
a Home Maker
there is more
to your story.
make it worth telling
choice is all yours
you have to  choose
between being a door mat
or a self respecting being
make your choice
all of us are home maker first
but we need to be
decision makers as well.


Creation leaves

no space for tedium

One is surely inventive

but in small change.

One does not seek,

has no goal, no ambition.

One already is

what one wants to be.

Fragrance of deep fulfilment

Lingering all through.

One absorbs the universe

in deep receptivity,


whatever is absorbed

in one’s sponge of imagination.

When one surpasses

self, only then

one is closest

the whirling Whole.