Author: basgallop

dvla

grrr-ness and grimness of dvla!
for some reason they want to renew the photo on my licence
so i got this one done… but
your not allowed to smile! your not allowed to wear a hat!
yes – no smiling. no hats.
so officially everyone looks like a convict or even a cadaver
…its good to have govt departments to vent your spleen on
i’m rather impressed as to how lopsided my visage has become

bf 2012

awww buddhafield, bless!!! dumb struck stupefied, will take a fair old time to ponder and digest even a slither of what was there for me to learn… of course there was the mud, earth that oozed, that stodged and clagged, sticky with struggle… quagmire… that and the continual palaver, the fiasco of welly politics…
but more, much more, myriad spirit that stirred then swooped
i remember.. what… of being in small world as the the band played a whirling dervish gypsy stomp… hoopla doomp.. hoopla doomp.. there, coming across marsha, sitting serenely on the floor guarding an egg!! inevitably there was a story, she had to take it to her uncle who lived amongst the trees in the forest of dean? i sat quietly besides her, she broke her lump of clay in half and passed some over ‘here, something for you to squidge’ ‘thank you’
or of singing amazing grace beneath the deckchair Red and yellow stripes of the big top, funky and gorgeous as the sound swirled fast around us, voices that bind, that nourish, that cherish
of pushing cars out on the sunday… heave ho.. heave ho… ‘put the bleeding car in GEAR!!’, vroom splatter fleck shower of spray.. waaggghh…
or of coming to the end of a gorgeous ecstatic dance, my hands, my eyes, smoking with the glory aura of holy fire, i came across merleen, another lost child i had met at the gate, we hugged, pink and green, the billow and flow of the heart chakra, immense… much much more… but also of just goofing about up at the gate, or sitting in cafes happily nattering, laughing, scoffing lasagne…thank you … love all you guys, your amazing xxx

before buddhafield

Fire Clubs! check. Floppy Ermintrude Hat! check. FountainPensHayfeverRemedyGaloshersCopiousDuvetsToothpaste….. blah di blah … cuddly toy
tra la la! oh and never forgetting a warm smile and a brimful heart
my departure slightly delayed by painting an om in sherbaileys pink nail varnish on my wellies, so i won’t muddle them up… and watering the garden, precisely as it started to rain, ho hum!
heres to sun bathed dawdlesome days… see some of you in the field xxxxxx
oh and rather loving buddhas sunflower in this pic

Rose

another poem, this one written in Preston park yesterday, whilst waiting for a friend
haven’t really finished it yet… but thats often the way with poems written in Rose gardens
……………………

Some day I shall live aloft, in a tree house, plonked in the heart of a Rose garden

At Night, to stir the swirl of perfume, pierced by the distant light from the mineral stars, else beguiled, engulfed by the charms of a lullabye moon

Damask, Scarlet, Lemon
Soft petals, whorled and spiralled with a whispered mystery

At Dawn, to read the augury in the patterns of the flight of birds
as they weave and braid the sky

Damask, Scarlet, Lemon
Soft petals, whorled and spiralled with a whispered mystery

At Midday, within the dappled shade, beneath the vaulted spreading arms of the tree
to set out the solemn heft of chess pieces, formal on the board,
to hold the crystal patterns in the mind
to nod at passers by, with eyes which no longer seek to question
yet with kindness, look to prompt an answer

Damask, Scarlet, Lemon
Soft petals, whorled and spiralled with a whispered mystery

At violet Sunset, as the weight of light dwindles from the sky
I shall recline, head resting on one arm, like the golden buddha
then to roll aside from life, as though from a dream
so dense the stench, that as the world falls away in gossamer tatters,
I shall be borne aloft, by the succulence of their perfume
as though by the gentle plump pressing of ample hands

Tupelo Honey

awww such a beautiful song!!! everytime i hear it, i put it on 3 times in a row.. at least
an extravaganza, almost schmaltz, but! SMOOCH. it is as perfect in the early morning as last thing at night
for all the sadness, for all that we feel has been lost
well, it is good to be reminded of the force of love that is always, forever beside us in the world x

Take Courage

first (late!) sea swim of the year yesterday, words from last night… every year i write completely anew almost the same phrases, palimpset, a traditional ballard, soothe reassuring, och aye mcgonagallesque!
oh and pic is rather good, not mine, somebody talented with a big camera
……………..

Take Courage!
First the kerfuffle with the towell, the half hearted dance of concealment
the rigamarole, the wiggle and shimmy into trunks
a hobble across the ouch eek stones, pigeons and plovers eggs, my reluctance real not feigned, there to dip a toe into the briney blue! summertime… oh summertime
wade, then push on through, the flimsy barricade of what? sea grot! a shroud of watered down porridge, which clings close to the shore
a lone plastic bag looms on the swell, parody of a jellyfish
inch inwards, no sudden spasm, rather, slowly immersed beneath the stealth of numbness
a pool of cold lapping cruelly at yer goolies… ha, well, if joyce can have the ‘scrotum tightening sea’
…and then … and then… gung ho geronimo!
to lurch forwards, flung beneath the surface, an ecstasy of splashing, a few frenzied dolphin kicks
down, to grasp a stone from the bottom, Sea Ruby
emerge spluttering, gasp grab at the first lungful of greedy air
aaah
not so bad … not so bad…
caul of water, birth, baptism, emergence
i am seal, sleek slicked hair, blubbersome and bewhiskered, stories, like tears, within my soft mournful selkie eyes
thought, thankfully, ha, dwindles beneath this mere torrent of being alive
the cold, the salt, there is a contraction to form, saturnine, ridgity, definition
pared down to this sadness, sadness? at what? still.. it loiters
i flip over onto my back, a bloated resting, meniscous, buoyed up, the boundary of being within, being of water

White Cliffs
Blue Sea Beneath
Blue Sky Above

stranded here… in the forever

…kerplonk splosh, reverie interruptus, i loook to the shore, my son, floundering pleasantly in the shallows
big grin, hoik lobbing pebble followed by pebble in my direction. bless

Fats

i found my thrills on blueberry hill

Richard Basgallop lip up fatty! yes i know that was fats domingo not waller… but i’m sure your all immensely glad that i have at least found my thrills! x

Richard Basgallop err… placido domingo! fats domino! blubbering eck!

Richard Basgallop ?…. and.. as i’m commenting on my own posts (again!)… what sort of a name is placido domingo anyway?! mr sleepy sunday?!