A martian sends a post-card home

During our Oral and Writing class we read a science fiction poem, and we were given the assignment to work in groups andwrite a poem of our own describing objects, like the poem. I worked with Agustin Bravo and Vicky Quiroga. You have to read the poem and identify the things that are being described. The first poem is the one we invented, and at the bottom you can see the original.

“Dreans are mechanical monsters were black becomes white. the things that enter seem to suffer until time goes up.

When the skyes attack everyone takes out their shields

Up in the rock where a cold fairy dust rules and a dustling glow burns.

In constant movement a loyal and faithful guardian who what borrows returns and defends his territory from all the unkown.

In only a room where we can be part od a new world, where darkness rules and a wall in constant movement”

A Martian sends a Postcard Home

Caxtons are mechanical birds with many wings
and some are treasured for their markings –

they cause the eyes to melt
or the body to shriek without pain.

I have never seen one fly, but
sometimes they perch on the hand.

Mist is when the sky is tired of flight
and rests its soft machine on ground:

then the world is dim and bookish
like engravings under tissue paper.

Rain is when the earth is television.
It has the property of making colours darker.

Model T is a room with the lock inside –
a key is turned to free the world

for movement, so quick there is a film
to watch for anything missed.

But time is tied to the wrist
or kept in a box, ticking with impatience.

In homes, a haunted apparatus sleeps,
that snores when you pick it up.

If the ghost cries, they carry it
to their lips and soothe it to sleep

with sounds. And yet, they wake it up
deliberately, by tickling with a finger.

Only the young are allowed to suffer
openly. Adults go to a punishment room

with water but nothing to eat.
They lock the door and suffer the noises

alone. No one is exempt
and everyone’s pain has a different smell.

At night, when all the colours die,
they hide in pairs

and read about themselves –
in colour, with their eyelids shut.

Un pensamiento en “A martian sends a post-card home

  1. Lovely poem!
    Line one: *wHere
    Can´t seem to guess the object with a “DAZZling glow”… or the wall in constant moevement. Help!!!

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