Lai Khutsaangbi (Part Two)
Ningombam Biswamitra *
There lives a man of heart so artless
With his bride so pristine and guileless
The purest love in their heart they live
In their humble abode, they were blessed
Warm and safe, their home shines
In such dark days of the unspoken terror
Who lurks in the shadow of their home.
She lives and it's not a myth!!
For years and years she devours on the despair of broken homes
Your pain is her pleasure, desperate cry of the frail, her strength
Thus she lives and it's not a myth!
Waiting and skulking with ears pressed against the wall
Her hands feeling for the crack with the endeavor of a serpent
Crawling out of the fissure to poison the unblemished air
Her doom is near and she be judged
Besotted with the weakness of mankind
Little did she know of what was becoming
Desecrating the sacred ground, her campaign
Of love so pure and chaste
That she could not adulterate nor beguile
Little did she know as her robbing hand
Thrust forward itself towards the guillotine
Glowing with a righteous flames so virtuous
It was too late to recoil and save her
From the decisive sway of the blade so faithful
Severing her limb that writhe like a serpent
Dismembered from its head
Screeching in pain she fled into the woods
Only the bloodcurdling shriek still haunts
The harbinger of a dying bond...
* Poem written by Ningombam Biswamitra who can be contacted at blackknight39(at)gmail(dot)com
This poem was webcasted on July 23 2012.
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