A TAINTED CHRONICLE – Delhi Poetry Slam

A TAINTED CHRONICLE

By Paramjit Paul

And he flushed the empty canvas into a chronicle – 

Where he paints the tale of a young dame…

Needling pieces of fragmented frames, 

Conjuring the divinity she is known for!

For he narrates the flaws in shades precise –

Of infinite passions and ruthless calm eyes;

A taint in the pure world of the dignified, 

Adored by the demeaned, a mystical deity glorified.

 

And the tale prophesied of a child –

Residing in madness of uncanny reflections,

A child devoured of her childhood

By estranged kins' of deceptive intentions;

While consumed by darker days and insane nights, 

She cries faintly in her dark confinement –

Wounds unhealing from merciless nightmares

Awakens an indestructible rage; dormant and rare. 

 

And her strive for solace, eluded lustful eyes –

Wiping the tears, she resisted; a vengeful smile thrives,

Hidden behind the shameful mask for long,

Now, she walks the disgraceful roads, dauntless; 

A woman of grace, a Sentinel on a quest – 

The venom of the Serpent flows down her veins

Avenging the tarnished honour of the alike,

For she wanders seductive, whilst a bloodthirst coincides.

 

Embedded to the essence of her name,

She has earned a sinful fame – 

Alluring as the Eve’s Apple 

Fascinating the Adams’ insane;

For piercing the countless veil of womanhood

She punishes; luring to a death, inhumane –

A sacrifice she keeps making to some unknown God,

An atonement for sins, infamy and unkind.

 

And the portrait foretells a tainted chronicle,

Where he unravels her inevitable fear…

A world of unevenness conceiving her tears,

Of torn attires crushed under dominant radicals –

And a silent madness dance across her belligerent soul 

For she brawls unwearied to retain her undead spirit

In this cruel world, she strives  

Just to know, if she’s dead or alive?


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