Red planet rolling!
A bolide-battered bowling ball, falling
Through the great and endless black;
Called “Barsoom” by some,
“Ares” by so many more, for centuries all
Spoke its name with reverence and awe,
Casting thrilled or fearful glances at it
Blazing in their god-packed skies,
Wondering why it shone so bright,
Why it burned with such a violent,
Bloody hue… None knew then
Of its ancient rusted rocks, Everest-mocking
Volcanoes and Grand Canyon-shaming vales…
But today we watched it wax and wane
Through VMC, Mars Express’ smallest eye
And sighed, wishing we were there
To see it for ourselves, our faces pressed
Against the portals of our ship,
Staring at Ares longingly, like Cathy’s ghost
Gazing into Heathcliffe’s window,
As we slipped into the Red Planet’s shadow…
(c) Stuart Atkinson 2010
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