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Mahima Gupta Mar 2016
I have mere recollections of
******* cocktails being served
Under the starless sky
Because the stars allure the poets
And the poets mistake them for shooting stars

Another thing I'm reminded of is
Envelopes with pink and gold glitter dust
It's better to keep them untouched
Because touching them means food for thought
And food for thought is mistaken for inessential complexity

The last thing that comes to my mind
are the old chandliers in the hallway
And it's better to not look up while walking
Because blinding light would result in a catastrophe
And a catastrophe would restrict my recollections to these few elements
Mahima Gupta Mar 2016
I heard you're talking about
Splitting the fortune into two
With the silver revolver in her hand
Gasping her breath she's walking down the aisle
Burning red than fading blue
The odds of your lumbered existence fall flat
If only the armour was repossessed
By a harbinger from your mother womb
Would you realise the game ceases to exist
It's all in your mind in caught in your rigmarole of lies
Overhwhelmed by your streak of luck
You command the move to be played
If only you knew
the result already is checkmate
When the lady sitting across placed a bet
You lost it all to her and satiated yourself to her charm
But she's walking down the aisle now
Burning red than fading blue
Black and red you lost it all
You went home and pretended to be unscathed
But this time there's no way back
It's the lady coming towards you
With the biased musket at her disposal
This is not your gambling den
Here comes apocalypse
It's Russian roulette.
Mahima Gupta Dec 2015
Dead leaves
Falling like sighs
From the full moon
and the canopy of stars
With the crystals  reflecting
Demise of the lark

walking on the aisle
Seamlessly flowing away
the fog is the curtain blindfolding her
Doors of the cathedral are shut

The prism reflects the imbroglio  
Outlines of bittersweet memories
Burning in the fireplace
Frosted windows with half broken glasses hindering movement

With a pale face and dry lips
Hands numb
she tries to write
Last few lines of her life
Mahima Gupta Nov 2015
I wish I could guide
these caged words
be able to maneveour them
let them drift apart
towards the seamless light of the night towards the oceans of elixir

I wish I could set free
the taste of the bittersweet memories
without causing any harm to my conscience
without letting the uncertainties
affect my psyche

I wish I could join and tear
Cry and fear
Laugh and rejoice at the same things
Dance to those songs and cry to them
Settle and destruct
Without bluffing with my soul.
Mahima Gupta Oct 2015
Quarter past 11 is it?
No it's 11:11
Slowly lapsing second by second
With thousands of prayers and wishes being granted and my hope wandering for resurrection.

Quarter past 11 is it?
No it's 11:11
When hybrid eyes void of faces to dance with claim to purport themselves to a mere beguiling satiation but inwardly they're dying to enjoying their guilty pleasures

Quarter past 11 is it?
No it's 11:11
4 minutes have passed says the lady with her watch showing the wrong timing maybe her wish could be traded for someone else's perhaps

Quarter past 11 is it?
No it's 11:11
Look at the clock see the patten four ones two elevens delving deep into souls of millions waiting for their wish to be granted and spreading smiles just how silver dust and bubbles do to the five year old in the backyard  

Quarter past 11 is it?
No it's 11:11
For the artist holding up the thoughts on the silver platter for her ideas assembling in the mind promptly as if a magical spell had been cast on her after she made her last wish

Quarter past 11 is it?
No you missed it but it's 11:12
Maybe the next time you could save a minute to make magic
And I hope tonight at 11:11 the shooting star lights up your night as well.
Mahima Gupta Sep 2015
On the crest of the wave I decided to sit down at my  14 year old escritoire

On the advent of spring I decided to
Fill up the moats in my backyard  

The quill in between my fingers commemorating the fall of the mighty empires when I was actually rubbernecking the flowers I filled up the ditches with.

Two universes in my mind helpings shape intricate designs and the inkwell acts as a magnet attracting my soul to get lost within these paradoxes

If I walk towards the palaces the kings will ask me to extemporise tricks of which are on my finger tips

If I walk towards the patio I will fall into the area next to it and be buried beneath the flowers

Met with an accident 20 years ago when I was thinking of neologisms
when I was thinking of atypical aphorisms
when I was lost in between the metaphors.
Mahima Gupta Aug 2015
You skip through my mind
Every second
Half way then to the extreme
And then it goes back to normal

With your unrivalled spirit
Untenable, you daunt around
Your playfulness and optimism
Giving my life an aura or freedom

With every step on the nature's vein
You rouse a feeling of an unbridled passion in my mind
Roaming about exploring jungles of
my innermost thoughts
Influcing me and my psyche with your cheeky demeanour  

And I know that I'll be in debt forever
Because of your unquenchable love and heartiest grins
You little monkey, this will be the way to our humble plight.
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