Poem for Tuesday

Exmoor
By Amy Clampitt

Lost aboard the roll of Kodac-
olor that was to have super-
seded all need to remember
Somerset were: a large flock

of winter-bedcover-thick-
pelted sheep up on the moor;
a stile, a church spire,
and an excess, at Porlock,

of tenderly barbarous antique
thatch in tandem with flower-
beds, relentlessly pictur-
esque, along every sidewalk;

a millwheel; and a millbrook
running down brown as beer.
Exempt from the disaster.
however, as either too quick

or too subtle to put on rec-
ord, were these: the flutter
of, beside the brown water,
with a butterfly-like flick

of fan-wings, a bright black-
and-yellow wagtail; at Dulver-
ton on the moor, the flavor
of the hot toasted teacake

drowning in melted butter
we had along with a bus-tour-
load of old people; the driver

's way of smothering every r
in the wool of a West Countr-
y diphthong, and as a Somer-

set man, the warmth he had for
the high, wild, heather-
dank wold he drove us over.

--------

I've posted this poem before, in 2004 so I'm assuming not that many people remember. I came across it while transferring entries to Blogger from here and was in the mood for it, especially with faux English RenFaire photos.

Had a quiet Monday -- my only major expedition was to pick up a condolence card for a friend. Worked on Shutterfly for holiday cards and photo book gifts, did four loads of laundry, wrote about the TNG cast at DragonCon and Bob Picardo on SGA, spent a lot of time keeping a kitten off my keyboard only to have a big yellow cat fall asleep with her head on my foot. Tried to catch up on weekend news but kept getting interrupted by Britney's custody battle. Younger son had a friend over with whom he was supposed to be working on a science project but there was a great deal of noise and discussion of Silverwing books; older son is writing a program for school that's a game with the word "PWNZORED" in the title. At least they are proudly nerds. *g*

Watched Heroes and Journeyman, both of which were reasonably entertaining though I'm not really involved on a fannish level. I like Kevin McKidd from Rome but sometimes he seems to be playing the same character, only with less bloodshed...he manages to be self-righteous even when he doesn't know what's happening to him or why, he's sure he knows what's best for his wife and family even when he can't imagine what they're thinking and he never laughs. As for Heroes, I'm engrossed in certain storylines -- Claire and Noah, Matt and Mohinder -- while others I just can't get into. At least Hiro didn't end up being his own great-great-great grandpa as I feared he might, but the whole "drunken white man as Japanese hero who gets the girl" story isn't doing a thing for me, and I have little use for any of the Petrellis save Angela, who made the episode for me with her line about Kaito Nakamura who apparently really is dead (and she's a suspect, hee): "I don't need his money and I wasn't sleeping with him...not for a long time." Whoo!


Richard III (in bad Snape wig) attempts to intimidate. Unfortunately he hasn't mastered the Evil Overlord Laugh.


And like so many tragic villains, Richard has surrounded himself with an extremely poor selection of minions.


Fight School follows up a battle with the lirpa...


...with a failed attempt to use the Vulcan Death Grip. ("There's no such thing as the Vulcan Death Grip." "But the Romulans don't know that!")


Henry VIII is told that his intended, Anne of Cleves, is astonishingly beautiful, talented, articulate and sexy...


...but he is underwhelmed when they meet, as she barely speaks English, plays no instruments and rebuffs his attempts to kiss her.


The nuns from Hey Nunnie Nunnie are not afraid to use heavy-handed theological tactics to get people to come to their show.

It makes me happy that Jaime Salé and David Pelletier had a baby. Means it's likely they'll keep performing together for a good long time and not disappear. Even with touring I'd rather have them for parents than Spears and Federline.