One of my favorite poems - " Five ways to kill a man" by Edwin Brock ends in a very realistic manner. I quote the last stanza below :
"These are, as I began, cumbersome ways
to kill a man. Simpler, direct, and much more neat
is to see that he is living somewhere in the middle
of twentieth century, and leave him there."
Reading this poem, one embarks on a historical journey through time starting with the crucifixion of Jesus to the end of World War II. In the end, the poet dispenses with any traditional means to kill a man (or a woman or any living entity for that matter) by stating that living in the twentieth century is suffering in itself. One is exposed to mental dissatisfaction, diseases, and loads of other socio-economic problems. These are not 'cumbersome' ways in that it is not carried out by one person or a group or that its effect is instant. The entire humankind has played a role in each other's sufferings, leading to a slow, painful death.
Edwin Brock had passed away before the start of the twenty-first century (in 1997). Nevertheless, the concluding stanza of his poem is still relevant in this century. I have tried my hand at writing a poem for the people thriving in the twenty-first century. The title of this blog has been naively borrowed from a famous song by Greenday. The title of my poem is Payback.
Payback
Who could have told,
long could one live?
Who could have thought,
time had come to leave?
For a century later, with renewed vigor,
Worlds have revolted, wants us no longer.
For mankind had been a bitter germ,
With sins, worser than every turn.
Wars settled fences and nukes their might,
O’widowed wife, orphaned child and their plight!
Crimes akin wars, soul to soul,
Murders, abuse, and likes none could console.
Built both cars, swim and fly,
and many more things our thoughts defy.
So claimed the leader,” Nothing to fear,
Even if end is near,
Us shall eradicate
For science ‘twas adequate”.
Smirked in the corner, Mother Nature,
“Poor unthinking souls here,
You have done what you think enough
Let me show what methinks you deserve”
Thence came virus, all over the globe,
while some quakes started to unload.
Also, the ice, wanting to slide,
Sea was now a devil in disguise.
Bushfires unmuted for days past,
All locked with doors tightly cast.
Bays faced storms,
And fields with locust swarms.
As deaths go past unthought counts,
Hunger and cries, and tensions surmount.
The leader, whos’ plan seemed was clear,
Can now be seen, crying “Save O’lord us dear”
But He has seen, seen what may,
Only be called devils’ play.
Thus, we reap what we sow,
As all wait for wraths to forego.
Biswaraj Palit
Comment and let me know your thoughts!
Bye.
