SOLOMON

                                                                               SOLOMON.

Lives

in

Sanity

Lane,

just off

Inconstant

Street.

At the illustrious age of

one hundred and two,

he owes his radiant good health

to a diet of

meat, red wine,

and a delicious assortment

of cakes.

Walking along high mountain paths,

or strolling into,

the village,

he always wears his

green

beanie,

with

a

grey,

woolen

overcoat.

Reminds one of an ancient tree,

so upright is he.

His teeth are slightly yellowish,

sometimes likes a smoke.

His skin is rosy

wrinkled up,

and he likes to share

a joke.

Greet him with a smile,

And he’ll ‘How ‘d do’

       Back to

          You.

VGow.

19/0618

It’s a Friday Feeling.

Shroud
cloud,
brooding
sky blanket,
horizontally
promising soft snow.
Wicked wind whips trees. Autumnal
leaves dip and dive in a divine trance.
Twirl in a twisted plait as if
cumberbunding letterboxes.
And little walkers’ feet dare to dance like dervishes,
whirling.
Sombre cloud is such
a liar.
No
snow!

Virginia Gow

16/05/18

Greed

Greed.

Like

King

Canute

playing his

courtiers for

fools, our governments

feed us on fear, whilst

all

the while enriching their coffers, not caring what the

future holds.

Blinkered vision pursues the prize of a golden throne carried to a sea of slogans

to be swallowed by waves of plastic guilt.

Loans and credit cards

enslave us.

God is

counted and

rolled up

in

banks

to be

laundered and polished.

Fools’ folly.

Human

flaw,

greed.

VGow

28/05/18

Style.

STYLE

Two

years

painting

flowing fields

of watercolour

in a meditational Zen,

binding tight the edges with a heavy black felt pen.

Creating distances with patience,

cryptic messages,

inner mind.

Now it’s time

to change

and

wash.

A way

free-flowing.

Capture nature in

a drizzle.

Oh!

It’s

the end

of the line.

VGow

31/05/18