May 24, 2004

A tour of Iceland with the poetry of Jonas Hallgrimsson.
  • I don't know how I came to miss this post before, plep, but now I've found it, I'm still wading through the Hallgrimsson link, which is fascinating. Have to wonder now whether Hallgrimsson's work was part of the reason for for Auden's jaunt to Iceland.
  • Plep, you ALWAYS have such interesting stuff--How could I have missed this? I was probably tight for time and figured I'd pick it up later when I could savor the moment, then spaced it. Dang, but for Beeswacky's post tossing your FPP into the recent comments pile, I would have missed it. (Thanks, Bees) The photos were ok, but the poetry is yummy. My favorite of the bunch has got to be the first linked: The Farmer in Wet Weather Goddess of drizzle, driving your big cartloads of mist across my fields! Send me some sun and I'll sacrifice my cow --- my wife --- my Christianity! YEAH! Just to make sure I haven't missed another one of your juicy offerings, I'm going to check out your posting record.
  • In the vortex of class warfare He wrote a love poem Faced with the hunger for justice He wrote a love poem Surrounded by death and torture He wrote a love poem Amid blood and bullets He wrote a love poem... -- Luis Rogelio Nogueras, from "A Poem"
  • Riddle The world's wonder; I liven wenches, A boon to townsfolk, a bane to none, Though haply I prick her who picks me. Well-planted, I stand in a bed With my rogue root. Rarely, mayhap, Some carline, careless and daring, Rasps my red tip, wrenches my head, Lays me to larder, I teach her lore, This curly-hair who clasps me thus, And after our meeting moisten her eye. -- Anonymous Anglo-Saxon, c. 850, trans Lewis Turco The answer: an onion.