(no subject)

Does it make me evil if I laugh at my baby?  I was scrubbing my tub today, and, because he refused to be left alone without screaming, I brought Babe into the bathroom with me to play on the tile floor while I got to workin'.  Well, either I got a bit of water on the floor, or he wasn't used to crawling on slick surfaces with his knees covered, whatever the case, I looked over my shoulder at one point to find him doing a fantastic imitation of a baby on a treadmill.  He was moving his legs persistently, but never moved forward as each leg lost traction at the last second.  It actually looked like he was losing ground, until he gave up and remembered what his toes were for.

I'm sure it was terribly frustrating for him, but it was absolutely hilarious for me.  One of those "wish I had a video recorder" moments.  My dad was right:  babies are way more fun than dogs (though at times, very similar).

Later today, I was driving home from the store and "(K)nights in White Satin" came on the radio. Well, I love that song, but we only have the vinyl of "The Days of Future Passed," and the greatest hits CD only has one poem on it, and it isn't the one after "Nights." [end run-on sentence]  Anyway, I had never heard "Late Lament" before, and as I listened, the line "Cold hearted orb that rules the night" caught my imagination. 

So here's the gauntlet thrown back at you, amsev : Use "Late Lament," by the Moody Blues (or at least the third stanza), in a 30 minute fic.  Any characters, any mood, though Snape would (of course) be preferred. 

( Late Lament )

Meanwhile, "Lament" got my poetry juices flowing (oh no!) and a couplet popped into my head.  Deciding to use a form of poetry that is a little more... mature than couplets, I came across the Rondeau, which fit perfectly.  I haven't decided if it's completely finished or not, but for the moment I'm satisfied with
( At Ten to Twelve )