Bring Me That Picture Of A Marshland

Aziz Haq By Aziz Haq, 6th Jul 2013 | Follow this author | RSS Feed | Short URL
Posted in Wikinut>Writing>Poetry

The monstrous vices and inconceivable criminality in the societies of human beings across the world are posing formidable challenges to our 21st century global civilization. Man’s failure to curb them might erode away human values and eventually bring the huge edifice of our civilization crashing down. But why is the "Marshland" in the poem? Find out.

Bring Me That Picture Of A Marshland

Take, Oh dear; take these newspapers away from me!
I don’t want to read them again! Oh, what hellish
scenarios daily I see! In country A,
a female medical student gang raped on a
running bus. A three year old girl raped in country B,
and a monster of a man confines in a room
underground his own daughter for years and procreates
nine children on her in country C. Along with
her lover, a mother kills her five-year-old son,
the lone witness to their affair, in country D.
A teacher is kidnapped by his students to reap
a ransom in country E. And in countries F,
G and H, fratricidal civil wars fiercely rage.
Skilled enough are their peoples to annihilate
themselves, rendering it inessential to wait
for any foreign incursions from across their
borders to do the job. And their mosques and chapels,
their pagodas and temples are turned into shambles.
A drug addict teenager hacks his parents to death,
for they wouldn’t give him money to buy his next dose
of cocaine. A discontented boy takes a gun
and showers bullets upon his classmates killing
dozens. A young female domestic worker had
to journey by night to be quickly by her sick
mother who lived in the countryside. When she had
arrived at the home station ere dawn, a couple
of policemen accosted the naïve woman and
proposed to help her reach home not very far from
the station she reached by train, instead of helping,
they raped and killed her just before the rising sun
could dissipate the light of the fading Pole Star.
Young girls are daily eve-teased and disrespected
on their ways to schools in countries J, K and L.
The governments there fail to deter the goons, all
the more helpless are the girls’ parents. Lots of those
girls in sheer dismay, often resort to slippery
nooses dangling from ceiling above or branches.
O! What ugly, monstrous, shameful scenarios!
O! What aberrations of nature! O! O dear!
It turns my stomach! I feel like spewing up all
that I ate. O, the human society! I fear
If it is human anymore! The human world
has gone awry, it seems! Its reason and senses,
are lost. I’m ruffled, deeply perturbed, I’m troubled!
It’s driving me mad! The frontiers of right and wrong
are swiftly evaporating. Vis-à-vis man,
lower animals are no more lower. A dark
and sinister canopy of mind-boggling
dimensions is descending on this world of man.
An ugly monster arising from the dark womb
of the deep threatens to swallow up the human
Civilization, as an eclipse swallows the sun.
The sense of shame has parted with humanity.
Blessed are the animals that we call lower,
Now jungles are perhaps better habitable,
For nature there never goes wild; a tiger or
a deer ne’er changes its nature it got at birth.

Bring me, dear, that picture there of a faraway
Land in a remote unknown corner of the world,
That picture of a marshland, a calm, serene
and desolate place yet to be trodden by man,
That land far away from the societies of men;
Far from man who is capable of perverting
his nature –man in whose hands nature is unsafe.

Bring me that picture, dear, and mount it on this wall
before me. The captivating blue-green marshland,
its water pervaded with the smell of its reeds
and weeds, where shoals of small fishes countless as stars
swim freely without the fear of being enmeshed
in ruthless nets of man, where emerald creepers
with their blue and purple flowers float on rippling
water and are swayed by gentle soothing breezes,
where the morning sun is daily greeted by white
and long-legged, slender-necked storks, where in the morning
and evening hours the eastern and western skies glow
with crimson, red and purple colours, where nothing
goes pervert, where nature has remained as it is
from time immemorial, where no threat exists
from weapons of mass destruction, where he- and she-storks
live a life of perfect bliss and never betray
their respective mates. Together, they go about
their business of flying and looking for places
where fish seem to mill around better. There, they stand
not far from each other, motionless on one leg
in shallow reedy water, as if it was just
another reed, and not at all any leg, to
the unsuspecting fish, that might swim by it, while
the other leg is tucked up and the long beak poised
to catch a few fish. And then when the approaching
night is about to envelop their little world,
they call it a day and fly away to their roost
to sleep, and perhaps to dream about catching fish;
and perchance to make love when the silvery moon
showers downy beams on them from above. Their lives
unperturbed by the gun of a murderous shooter
of a man. O dear! Mount on the wall before me
that painting of the faraway marshland. Its cool
and soothing breeze already I feel around me.


Aberration, Civilization, Cocaine, Criminal Minds, Criminality, Eve-Teasing, Gun, Kidnap, Love, Marshland, Monsters, Monstrosity, Moon, Nature, Newspapers, Painting, Picture, Rape, Reeds, Storks, Vices

Meet the author

author avatar Aziz Haq
A civil servant by profession, I endeavour to express through my writings how I view life.
Human sufferings, the transient nature of life and profound love for the world are my dominant themes.

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author avatar Mark Gordon Brown
7th Jul 2013 (#)

Lovely poem, so sad, so true. We have not made a heaven on earth and where heavenly places did exist we turn them into tourist areas and overrun them.
Oh to enjoy an escape

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author avatar Aziz Haq
8th Jul 2013 (#)

Thank you, Mr. Brown, for your kind appreciation. Regards. Aziz Haq

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author avatar Retired
2nd Dec 2013 (#)

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