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Amy Angom Poem
Abuses hurled and Alcohol gurgled,
In the vortex of confusion
And blurred vision.
Intoxicated pleasure from surreal leisure.
Fooled senses and numbed conscience.
Wiped existence of love and kindness cuffed.
Lashed at the one he once loved.
Cringed and clung to her faint faith.
She and her cursed fate.
Exploding paroxysm of hate.
Her whipped ivory skin and bleeding lips,
Eyes with teary tinge,
Has the harvest moon singed.
Stillness of the night, pierced
By memories of bitterness-sodden years.
"Hurt me not", she trembled with fear,
"let me live for my girl, dear".
The cries colored skies crimson.
Just one reason--Her little girl.
As her daughter stared
With flaming locks and eyes that flared.
By Angom Amy (15)
Copyright © Amy Angom | Year Posted 2014
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Amy Angom Poem
At 13, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed
Brimming with youth and flamboyance.
With a myriad of of vying admirers,
A family to love and to be loved back.
Her life was a blend of love,laughter and rebellion.
Then,all of a sudden,
Dragged out of the felicity of her childhood.
Stripped off her citizenship and freedom
For Anne was born a Jew--an outcast.
Suffered owing to the sanguinary Fuhrer.
The Devil, he surpassed.
To escape the bloody clutches of Hitler
Into hiding ,they went
But never did Anne let her hope perish
In the two years of lonely confinement.
Two years of struggle to cope with adults.
Two years of struggle with food and supplies
With the thrills of love and pangs of goodbyes
Hope was her strongest weapon
To combat severe isolation and oppression.
Eternal hope kept her alive.
Courageous Anne continued to strive.
Her eyes could penetrate into the deeper meanings of life.
The pulchritude of relationships
The sublimity of nature
The plenitude of being
Life's purpose and importance
Demystified.
Alas! Betrayed by a close friend
Resulted in Anne Frank's tragic end.
The blood red hue of autumnal leaves
Stained the Earth , as the nature grieved.
- Angom Amy (15)
Copyright © Amy Angom | Year Posted 2014
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Amy Angom Poem
Cascades, the silken light
As it wreathes the lonely child.
With an esoteric melody ,it entwines.
An enigmatic beauty she hides
Behind those painful eyes.
The warm light does passionately kiss
His lover's muslin skin.
Glides on her satin hair
Mingles with tears on the face
Melts into lacerated veins
Of the forgotten child.
An enigmatic beauty she hides
Behind those painful eyes.
Upon her, the lunar love drips.
Her sacred beauty, he worships
To which this colossus nature relinquishes
The gods themselves did sculpt the sublimity
Of the beloved.
-Angom Amy(15)
Copyright © Amy Angom | Year Posted 2014
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Amy Angom Poem
The wooden floor creaked as I lay on it.
My eyes narrowed, slowly, into slits
As I stared at the half-drawn blinds,
As my limbs, lazily
Throbbed with dull persistency
After the long,
Enervating bus journey.
Not much had changed over the years.
The same wooden houses and paddy fields;
Farmers toiling, indefatigably.
Children playing with perpetual felicity.
The village still was as I had known
Six years ago.
The sweet smell of the incense sticks
From the tiny shrine
In the damp alcove
Filled my little room .
Mingled ,gently with the wooden floor.
Not much had changed over the years.
The same wooden houses and paddy fields;
Farmers toiling, indefatigably.
Children playing with perpetual felicity.
The village still was as I had known
Six years ago.
Like every night, the flautist did come.
Beside the same gnarled tree, he seated himself.
Under the lunar spotlight, he rose
Far beyond the temporal world.
The ineffable melody and its ungodly pulchritude
In esoteric harmony with the quietude
Accompanied the miners
In their lonesome journey
Back home.
Not much had changed over the years.
The village still was as I had known
Six years ago.
- Amy Angom (16)
Copyright © Amy Angom | Year Posted 2015
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