The Moon, 2211

The sky will glow soft streaks

Of purple and green

From an artificially inseminated

Atmosphere.

 

It will be

An industrial colony at first.

Workers, rustbeard scientists,

Cricket legged astronauts.

 

Then the rest will come.

Stiff lip families and

Financiers, senior executives,

The first settlers.

The worst.

 

While the poor back on the Old World

Prepare for nuclear slavery.

 

Dreaming of a silver sun,

The shade grey glint in the distant sky,

Capital of the rich and wealthy,

The Moon, 2211

◄ This Poem Has Nothing To Say

Skull Profit ►

Comments

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Jeff Dawson

Tue 13th Dec 2011 08:22

Great poem and concept contrasting two different worlds, and of course a social comment. Might not be as impossible in 200 years, nice one Jeff

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Isobel

Sun 4th Dec 2011 21:31

I like this Kealan - it is not often you get to read science fiction type poetry - but then I guess you are really making a social comment. Yes, I can imagine the colonisation going something along those lines too.

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