Artchil Daug


A Child Playing - Poem by Artchil Daug

A unit of experts, positioning themselves,
the grenadier, the machine gunner
the common soldier, the sniper
the platoon leader, and those faceless few
who are setting up an ambush

in the folds of my blanket
ready to strike two giants:
a huge racing car, made
of cheap plastic from China;
and a gargantuan truck, made from
hard labor, my father's creation
from a pseudo-stem of a banana plant,
that grew at the back

of my imagination, exploding,
the men and the cars, surprised by
the atomic explosion from a pillow
that slammed these characters as if
they are dissipated
in the light of reason.

Listen to this poem:

Comments about A Child Playing by Artchil Daug

There is no comment submitted by members..



Read this poem in other languages

This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.

I would like to translate this poem »

word flags

What do you think this poem is about?



Poem Submitted: Tuesday, August 21, 2012

Poem Edited: Tuesday, August 21, 2012


[Hata Bildir]