This is a sonnet all the way from Mars,
it lacks the atmosphere of those from earth,
you’ll find them in all crowded Martian bars,
I’ve written since two days before my birth.
No ‘thees’ or ‘thous’, we just don’t write that way
although I’ve used ‘perchance’ a dozen times,
and Martians are not green, they’re cosmic grey
and often use a crater full of rhymes.
It’s said one day you’ll visit where we write,
you’ve sent some Martian rovers but they broke,
and yes, we have a thirteen hour night
but bring some air or sadly you will choke.
My name is Exoclondyke Yabadoo,
I wrote this little sonnet just for you.
© Barry Hopkins, 2016