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Delfina Miy Uranga & Lucila Giambruni
Progress is destroying nature
Nothing is permanent
Scientific and cultural progress
They plan. They build. All spaces are gridded,
filled with permutations of possbilities.
The buildings are in alignment with the roads
which meet at desired points
linked by bridges all hang
in the grace of mathematics.
They build and will not stop.
Even the sea draws back
and the skies surrender.
They erase the flaws,
the blemishes of the past,
knock off useless blocks with dental dexterity.
All gaps are plugged with gleaming gold.
The country wears perfect rows of shining teeth.
They have the means.
They have it all so it will not hurt,
so history is new again. The piling will not stop.
The drilling goes right through the fossils of last century.
But my heart would not bleed
poetry. Not a single drop
to stain the blueprint
of our past’s tomorrow.
Cruising these residential Sunday
streets in dry August sunlight:
what offends us is
the houses in pedantic rows, the planted
sanitary trees, assert
levelness of surface like a rebuke
to the dent in our car door.
No shouting here, or
shatter of glass; nothing more abrupt
than the rational whine of a power mower
cutting a straight swath in the discouraged grass.
But though the driveways neatly
by being even, the roofs all display
the same slant of avoidance to the hot sky,
the smell of spilled oil a faint
sickness lingering in the garages,
a splash of paint on brick surprising as a bruise,
a plastic hose poised in a vicious
coil; even the too-fixed stare of the wide windows
give momentary access to
the landscape behind or under
the future cracks in the plaster
when the houses, capsized, will slide
obliquely into the clay seas, gradual as glaciers
that right now nobody notices.
That is where the City Planners
with the insane faces of political conspirators
are scattered over unsurveyed
territories, concealed from each other,
each in his own private blizzard;
guessing directions, they sketch
transitory lines rigid as wooden borders
on a wall in the white vanishing air
tracing the panic of suburb
order in a bland madness of snows
The use of
when describing the city
Metaphor, alliteration and personification
"Even the sea draws back and the skies surrender" nature is afraid of human beings and expansion.
"But my heart would not bleed poetry" the first thing that come to our mind is
View of the writer
The writer has a negative view of modernization. He thinks that human beings are destroying nature.
The writer and the voice is the same person: Boey Kim Cheng.
The final message is given by the writer. He says that he doesn`t want history, art and culture to be destroyed.
In our opinion, we agree with the writer. We think that modernization is ok, but not destroying other such things like history.
Lust of power
Man made landscapes
"A splash of paint on brick surprising as a bruise"
between stanza 2-4. You have to keep reading to understand the hole idea.
"each in his own private blizzard" it's a metaphor for the blindness of people of the futere chaos.
View of the writer
She describes perfection as boring and dull.
She is sad about the elimination of nature.
In our opinion, we agree with the
author because we also think that
people don't care about the future