the word asparagus brings to mind a picture of the green edible, on a fancy white platter with expensive gold edging, on a fancy white clothed table and some older, prim, woman, (see Mrs. Peacock here), across from you, gasping, with her hand on her throat, shocked, and rather indignant, of what you have just done, as you feel a mischievous grin growing on your face and the sparkle in your eye getting brighter.
hello there, you, reading this blog. i've decided to repost some of my old, perhaps cryptic, attempts at poetry that i had previously posted under another blog hoping that would help me gain poetic momentum. alas! no go. i've added them into this blog, keeping the original dates and adding "Reposted:" to the beginning of the title and tagging them with reposted also. if you would like (no judgement on my part whether you would or would not), use the tag reposted that i've included on this post as well to bring them up.
I started reading Beowulf again. This time, a translation by Seamus Heaney. AMAZING. So many translations to choose from, so many people are critics of the epic and ignore the translation, or are ignorant of the origins of this masterpiece. I am thoroughly enjoying Beowulf, partly due to it being something I decided to read again rather than be assigned, and partly due to the wonderful translation. If you have any desire to read this ancient poem, I would strongly recommend this version.
On a side note, reading Heaney's introduction to his translation of Beowulf also gave me a quite a bit more appreciation for Katharine Kerr's incredibly detailed Deverry series (fifteen books of interwoven lives and stories). Sometimes we just enjoy a work of art for it's beauty, not being able to fathom the effort and immensity of what the artist did to give us the final version. When we get a hint, it's a glimmer of something incomprehensible in our peripheral vision, so easily dismissed --- unless we have been there too, and recognize it in ourself as well.