Sunday, March 31, 2019



spiraling outwards.
Repeating patterns
in our galaxy.
Movement in motion,
dense matter,
light particles,
spinning through darkness.
Shifting through timelines.
Weaving a tapestry of fine thought.
Creating colour
In the
dance of life.
as it readies one





Master monk
in Laos read my chart.
Contemplate each Friday with care.
Be aware, Venus
rules your Way.
in its warm embrace.
in the trees
five kookaburras,
heralding rain. So I waited
for the drops to fall, but the sky turned pink,
a tint of red, and it filled my soul with dread.
in a peaceful town.
from a bloodied cup.
Orbits spin.
Sky cries.
Through the kindness of

Virginia Gow

Sunday, January 27, 2019

A Short Play.

(a new tradition)
Virginia Gow and Deanna Simpson

Characters:           Mimi and La La          
                                    Offsider, (never seen) Wata.
                                    Myrtle and Turtle
                                    Offsider, (seen, a garden gnome, voice off stage) Gnome
                                    Coffee and Cake
                                    Offsider, (never seen) Princess Skata
                                    Dart and Flower
                                    Offsider, (never seen) Badger


Mimi:              Our time has come, La La to take our place amongst the gentle folk of Blackheath.
                        Let’s fly down and join their Rhodo parade.
Wata:              I’ll just check your apparatus and make sure they’re ready to fly. Your fortunate to have an engineer as a husband, Mimi.
La La:               Our brooms will carry us there and we shall be the Witch Queens in the parade.
We’ll follow the good people of Banc Community Centre. They will welcome
Mimi:              Why did you decide to leave your salt air home amongst the pines and sea?
La La:               After 20 years of buzzing around Manly, knowing all and sundry, I wanted to find a home where I knew nobody and rest and restore my weary self.
Mimi:              Why did you choose Blackheath?
La La:               Salt air is a tasty treat but Blackheath air is oh so sweet. Flying off Blackheath
                        Mountain with the gliders is such fun. They welcome me as one of their own. They think my broom is some new sort of hang glider Weeeeee!
Wata:              Ladies, your brooms are ready to zoom. Up, up and away into the night sky high over the tops of the Blue Mountains. Let your spirits soar! Take your time, there’s a pale moon glow.
All three:         Yanada, Yanada, Yanada, singing as we fly,
                        Dharug Dreaming, moon time seeing, 
                        We’ll be there, by and by.
                        (time passing, nighttime turns into day)
Wata:              Here’s a good spot for me to hide, climb up on the roof of this old tin shed.
Right next to a fine art gallery. I hear tell the owners go rock climbing, too.
Perhaps they’re part of the hang gliding crew.
 I’ll photograph the Witch Queens as they pass by.
(parade noises, clapping, greeting sounds)
Mimi:              My pointed hat is black. My long hair is purple, our purple and gold sashes proudly proclaim us as Queens of this parade.
La La:               And the Blackheath Community Centre complement our colours well!

                             SCENE TWO

Myrtle:            My garden is bloomin’ marvelous!
Gnome:           Great for my stillness meditate
Turtle:             How would you like to listen to some wind music?
Myrtle:            I’d rather go for a drive and delight in the display of azaleas, and rhododendrons blooming in the Rhododendron Garden. We could sip on warm sweet tea, and eat luscious scones with homemade jam and cream.
Gnome:           May I come, too. Put me in the back of your car. I won’t make a sound, just quietly sing, “tra, la, la, la.”
Turtle:             You may come, of course, but not aa peep out of you. Garden Gnome. And no running off to play hide and seek with the lusty lizards in the pond. I’ll bring my camera for a few happy snaps. Those jolly volunteers are such welcoming chaps. We’ll take a gold coin or three. And you, Gnomey boy,
no ‘up in the wattle tree’. No scaring the currawongs, we like their song. No chasing the rosellas, kookaburras, king parrots, blue wrens and, if you agree, the you can come along.
Gnome:           Righto, I’ll be good, as a gnomey boy should. I’ll silently sing instead. Maybe a little humming, instead.
Myrtle:            A little humming is just fine with me, but I don’t want to climb up any wattle tree, because I remember what happened last time you were stuck up in a tree.
Turtle:             Oh! I remember that time, it was a crab apple tree. You’re such a good climber, Myrtle, pity you fell. Your broke your poor arm, threatened to throw gnome down the well.
Gnome:           I promise, I do. I was ever so sorry. You’re so kind to me. I won’t be a bother.
Myrtle:            What is your favourite Rhododendron this year, Turtle dear?
Turtle:             I love all the colours, but my favourite is Triumph de Grande, so soft and unusual. Mostly it’s white, with a soft touch of purple spots, and a cool lemony pink. It featured on the inside back cover for the calendar this year,
                        Remind me to buy a calendar for next year.
Gnome:           I love the water lilies floating on the pond. They look up to the sky and watch
                        Scudding clouds roll along.
Myrtle:            The azaleas are my favourite flowers, so dainty and daring, the yellows, the pinks, orange and purples, passionate reds and lively whites can be found there to. It’s a free ranging wonderland let’s go there soon.
Turtle:             Look up, what’s that in our sky! (whooshing sound)
                        Must be part of our parade, we see as it passes by.
All three:         Off we go to our village, we have plenty to do! An epic adventure for me and for you.
Myrtle:            There’s a rumour in town, we are to be the Queens next year, with sashes of purple, fringed in gold, with our names.
Turtle:             We will be Queens of the Grand Parade, but not you. Gnomey dear.
Myrtle:            Well, someone must guard the garden, and that’s your job.
We’ll find you a peer, a Lady Gnome and we’ll have baby gnomelets next year.
Gnome:           I’ll sing “Tra, la, la” I am to be wed, and you will be Two Queens in the Parade.


Coffee:            Our village is a buzz today. Shall we be vain and hang our portrait up?
Cake:               Oh, yes. It’s a grand likeness and it is the day of the Grand Parade.
                        My mother’s photograph is also here, stamped for all to see, and admire!
Skata:              She does make the best cakes. I make the best sandwiches.
I hear that there will be two queens in the Rhodo Parade. I wonder who will be chosen?
Coffee:            I could be we, you and me, Cake. Not you, Skata, you’re a Princess.
Cake:               We would be presented with the Royal Sashes, I believe.
Coffee:            What fun! I could wear the sash whilst brewing coffee. Delicious!
Cake:               And I’ll wear mine whilst plating up the Portuguese Tarts and Vanilla slices.
Skata:              I’ll just wear my tiara and cut the crusts off all the sandwiches, I’m such a tart myself, you know.
Coffee:            Now you behave, Skata1 Yes, you may wear the tiara given to you by Andre.
                        You skated so well at his last Australian concert, waltzing divinely across the ice.  No wonder he presented you with the Silver headpiece. I do believe his concerts are sell out internationally.
Cake:               There’s a rumour going around that the two Queen witches from last year may put in an appearance. The little witch with the black felt floppy hat loves Blackheath is much, she’s now part of the community and has foresworn off flying forever.
Coffee:            Well, we gave up flying in aeroplanes and settled here because the air is clear.
Cake:               Now our skin has a rosy hue instead of turning blue, as it did in the tailwinds.
Skata:              Don’t mention blue to me. My fingers would be blue with cold skating around on “Disney on Ice” and no gloves were allowed for my character, indeed. “The Jungle Book” was my crowning glory.
Coffee:            Do you miss your days of skating stardom, Skata.?
Skata:              No, no, not really. As long as I can wear my red high heels, or my leopard skin boots when I go “out on the town”, I’m happy to be here in this friendly village.
Cake:               Reminds me of a song by the “Village People”
All Three:        Sing: “It’s fun to stay at the Blackheath Café
                                    Blackheath Deli Café.
                                    You can chat the Queens, you can have a good meal,
                                    You can be whatever you feel.”
Coffee:            Did you meet the poet who came in for cake yesterday?
Cake:               Yes, she likes cake for breakfast.
Skata:              She became a model when she turned 70.
Coffee:            She does whatever she feels.
Cake:               Best thing about our place is the friends we make here.
Coffee:            And our air conditioner. Being a barrister is hot stuff!
Skata:              What about the Kitchen?
Cake:               We will still be the same queer folk, even when we are crowned.
All Three:        Sing: “It’s grand to be in the Rhodo Parade.
                                    Grand Rhodo Parade.
                                    We’ll wear a sash for a day, gold and purple, they say,
                                    Celebrate with the rest. we’ll be two of the best.
                                    End the day with a cool, cold beer!”


Dart:                La La dropped by the other day, she is making sashes for the Queens for the Grand Rhodo Parade. Sha said there were two unofficial Queens last year. La La and Mimi. They flew in, joined in behind the Banc people. It was a grand experience, she said. She’s making six sashes for this year’s parade.
Flower:            Why six? The number of darts in a pack? A good number to throw at the dart board? A sexy six? None of us are sweet sixteen.
Badger:           She’s starting a new tradition. We’ve always had a Princess. Now we can have Queens. Mature people who are “plus” people in our village.
Flower:            We don’t have to walk, just wear the sash for the day. We can walk if we
want, but as there are six chosen sashed Queens, it’s up to us.
Badger:           La La came to play darts at the Pub. We had to duck for cover.
Flower:            I thought she is a visual artist.
Dart:                I thought she is a poet.
Badger:           Well, she sure as heaven isn’t a dart player!
Dart:                No competitive enough. I’m the best dart player in town, but I told her, if she puts that in a poem, I’ll run her out of town!
Flower:            We have a lovely display in our garden boxes for the parade this year.
Badger:           If you grow pansies, they will match your sashes, purple and gold.
Flower:            I love their happy faces cheerful and bright.
Dart:                As long as I don’t have to ride a horse down Wentworth Street, I’ll consider the proposal.
Badger:           What will the Rhodo Committee say?
Dart:                Run her out of town?
All Three:        No. No. No.
Sing:” She’ll pass it on to the Committee.
                                    Let them do with it what they may.
                                    This idea is born of goodwill.
                                    Only horse eat hay.
                                    Pass it on to the Committee.
                                    Let them do with it what they may.
                                    This idea is born of goodwill.
                                    Only horses eat hay.”

“Pass it on to the Committee.
Let them do with it what they may.
                                    This idea is born of goodwill.
                                    Only horses eat hay”


                                    “Pass it on to the Committee.
Let them do with it what they may
                                    This idea is born of goodwill.
Only horses eat hay.”