Poem Hunter
Poems
The State Of English
RI (July8,1981 / Badalgachi, Naogaon, Bangladesh)

The State Of English

Poem By Rex Islam

Interpreting not a story not a tale,
A real fact which I will tell;
It took five years to perceive
Since I first came to exist
In the State of English.

The entrance of mine was like a prince
Stately days and nights have I seen,
Not proud of my self but glad to think
That me with the erudite, the highly being
In the State of English.

Soon the things come to me
Nothing worth but regrets to be,
Where I missed the learned missed the sane
But not of course the minister and the king
In the State of English.

Think it fair to judge a faithful king
When the members surrounded are not his kin,
Or has no intercourse with his subjects;
To think for the attendants is not his object
In the State of English.

The king has his castle but not enough land
Where his subjects can work in band,
Without disturbance or the hour of late
Had to dropp their work for another’s sake
In the State of English.

He had to preach and shout, all together
To the minister and all who assemble,
Moral but for the vaunt of the counsel,
Had to follow the other’s scruples
In the state of English.

There is the queen bright and calm
Little indolence that made her plump,
Last to attend but first to leave
Without the speech that she might give
In the state of English.

There is the princess short and plump,
Grand her movements, grand her lungs,
Arrogant about the gifts she does possess,
Young, talented, but little ridiculous she is
In the state of English.

The minister is always stern and stiff
What ails him and what all grieve
That tenants have no pass or names on list
So neither he will call nor notice
In the state of English.

Another member a helpful guide,
Conscious that no opportunities glide;
Cool and tempered is his mind
And toward others always kind
In the state of English.

There was a courtier, a real prime,
Who always thinks that it would be crime
To involve with any kind of responsibilities
But seeking alone, only his own relief
In the state of English.

Grand philosopher but no discipleship
Soon got weary and painfully cried
That with all his might he had tried
To lit a star, but all turn to be only sheep
In the state of English.

The sheep all they got on the space
Gather straight in line with one’s meek face,
Scrawl the guideline with their foreleg
Illusory learning what all they get
In the state of English.

Among the sheep, there is an ass
Quietly stays and quietly does pass
Toiling for the light whence he will get
The power of true knowledge and be sane
In the state of English.

Labouring hard to sharp its tail
To make a display but he always fails,
Lamenting toward God to hear his pray
Let him have proper guidance as not go astray
In the state of English.

Three new members joint the royal chairs,
Can do nothing else but flatter and sing choirs
Adequate, not enough to get the posts
But shows themselves the chiefs of the most
In the state of English.

Each of the members is an individual king;
Motives are to overcome the tender supreme
When responsibilities are being put toward them,
Turn poorly dexterous, smoothly deceiving while they can
In the state of English.

For who would understand the few inquisitions
And who knows the answer, please let him speak,
Please not just pretend as in sleep
Or nothing is wrong in the deep
In the state of English.

How the state is ruled, how so fair
Are all perfect, harmonious, and under care,
Or whether the subjects are in fear
Or the eyes do shed their precious tears
In the state of English?

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Comments (1)

Way, way way too long man....


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