Author: basgallop

Side by side, their faces blurred,
The earl and countess lie in stone,
Their proper habits vaguely shown
As jointed armour, stiffened pleat,
And that faint hint of the absurd—
The little dogs under their feet.

Such plainness of the pre-baroque
Hardly involves the eye, until
It meets his left-hand gauntlet, still
Clasped empty in the other; and
One sees, with a sharp tender shock,
His hand withdrawn, holding her hand.

They would not think to lie so long.
Such faithfulness in effigy
Was just a detail friends would see:
A sculptor’s sweet commissioned grace
Thrown off in helping to prolong
The Latin names around the base.

They would not guess how early in
Their supine stationary voyage
The air would change to soundless damage,
Turn the old tenantry away;
How soon succeeding eyes begin
To look, not read. Rigidly they

Persisted, linked, through lengths and breadths
Of time. Snow fell, undated. Light
Each summer thronged the glass. A bright
Litter of birdcalls strewed the same
Bone-riddled ground. And up the paths
The endless altered people came,

Washing at their identity.
Now, helpless in the hollow of
An unarmorial age, a trough
Of smoke in slow suspended skeins
Above their scrap of history,
Only an attitude remains:

Time has transfigured them into
Untruth. The stone fidelity
They hardly meant has come to be
Their final blazon, and to prove
Our almost-instinct almost true:
What will survive of us is love.

…………………….
……………………………..

the words stand beautifully on their own, but curiously the sculpture its based upon was in lewes priory before it was destroyed by Henry VIII… as incidentally was the amazingl Romanesque font in St Nicks, the one we all dance around at 5 Rhythms

its masterful, gives me goosebumps every time i read it

from 26th june (all these are old facebook posts!)

he he! mine was a childhood in the subdued hues of black and white, so as here, as always, i look mean, moody and magnificent! a subtle reinterpretation, regurgitation of clint eastwood?!
so far, spent morning strimming and a-sowing grass seed, encouraging the enemy(!) as the whole time spluttering with hayfever, but a majestic view out across the gorgeous, sparkling turquoise sea. tra la la
off to town now, for a dip? some table tennis? see Finn. low key, somewhere near meeting house cafe till 7ish if anyones passing… oh and prob a boogie later! hurrah x

a shameless ploy to encourage yet more birthday wishes, ya just can never have too many!… and of course! thank you so much for those so far. byeee lovelovelove xxx
………
thank you so much for all the marvelous birthday wishes from yesterday! lovely!
…awoke today in a mooching ponderous mood, foggy outside, thinking that of course it is the force of love blazing marvelously through our lives which is of most import, yes,
that and the way we deal with the maelstorm of emotions surrounding this, the pain, the jealousy… hmm how does that half remembered larkin poem go?
BUT, but, but, it is also the slow soft accrual of kindness, that is so fundamental, the unlooked for gentleness, the support from simple gestures, it is these that buoy us up through the years of hope and regret..
hmm the stone drip drip of stalactites in a limestone cave, or, a coral reef, all that florid colour and vitality! and also the coral, hard won skeletal form slowly softly accumulated across the centuries
..fades away to the usual mumble mutter pitter patter. off to sherbaileys camp later! tents and kids. ha x

God i loathe css!!! 2 hours to layout a simple box, i despair.. i broke the omerta of silence to announce that.. its not even coding, just tediously jostling things around for compulsive neat freaks,
yes i know it helps to think of it as a bunch of helium filled balloons floating off to the ceiling (which make your voice sound squeaky)
but for me it is wrestling the leviathan, it won’t do what i want. stomps foot petulantly.
its that inheritance thing, all about what your grannys uncle twice removed is doing, its worse than Romeo and Juliet, its worse than an albanian blood feud!!!