The Virtual Pub

Come Inside... => The Library => Topic started by: Nick on July 15, 2008, 10:43:41 AM

Title: I just refound this poem and still quite like it!
Post by: Nick on July 15, 2008, 10:43:41 AM
A Martian Sends a Postcard Home
Craig Raine, 1979

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 the ground:

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

Rain is when the earth is television.
It has the properites 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.
Title: Re: I just refound this poem and still quite like it!
Post by: Nick on July 15, 2008, 11:32:38 AM
I hitch it up!
Title: Re: I just refound this poem and still quite like it!
Post by: Uncle Mort on July 15, 2008, 11:54:45 AM
Thanks Nick.

Wasn't sure I liked it at first.

But... once you understand that it's it's looking at the mundane with a fresh pair of eyes, 'Martian eyes' so to speak it's rather enjoyable.

A great text to teach children to see things from a different perspective.
Title: Re: I just refound this poem and still quite like it!
Post by: Nick on July 15, 2008, 01:00:18 PM
 cloud9:

Uncle is on the ball!
Title: Re: I just refound this poem and still quite like it!
Post by: Snoopy on July 15, 2008, 01:07:00 PM
An alternative point of view could be that it is a load of pretentious old tosh.













Just looking at it from a different perspective you understand. whistle:
Title: Re: I just refound this poem and still quite like it!
Post by: Nick on July 15, 2008, 01:10:18 PM
Make yer own mind up
Title: Re: I just refound this poem and still quite like it!
Post by: Darwins Selection on July 15, 2008, 04:54:06 PM
Make yer own mind up

I find myself with Snoopy in the 'pretentious old tosh' camp.
Title: Re: I just refound this poem and still quite like it!
Post by: Nick on July 15, 2008, 07:04:53 PM
Philistine! evil:

Here

Have a turnip
Title: Re: I just refound this poem and still quite like it!
Post by: Barman on July 16, 2008, 05:26:42 AM
Philistine! evil:

Here

Have a turnip
I think the problem was that you got the spaces all wrong... try this...

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

Rain is when the earth is television.
It has the properties 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.

Nah... still shite... and you spelt a word wrong too...  whistle:
Title: Re: I just refound this poem and still quite like it!
Post by: Bar Wench on July 16, 2008, 08:02:13 AM
Ahhhhh now I get it!
Title: Re: I just refound this poem and still quite like it!
Post by: Snoopy on July 16, 2008, 08:13:15 AM
Ahhhhh now I get it!

(https://www.virtual-pub.com/SMF/proxy.php?request=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.stourvalleyphotography.com%2Fhosting%2Facc%2Faccgal%2Fd%2F318-2%2FIMG_8822.jpg&hash=46bc7f9699c598d4572d87c1256dfd7154609e99)


Better late than never  ;D
Title: Re: I just refound this poem and still quite like it!
Post by: Bar Wench on July 16, 2008, 11:45:08 AM
You shouldn't mock the afflicted!  sad24:
Title: Re: I just refound this poem and still quite like it!
Post by: Snoopy on July 16, 2008, 05:42:55 PM
 redface: Sorry!
Title: Re: I just refound this poem and still quite like it!
Post by: Nick on July 17, 2008, 07:30:34 PM
Don't apologise, she has to learn! eveilgrin: