The Jester's Tea Party: Simon Griffiths At the Round Tower Gallery, Frome, a Poetic Review

I went to The Jester’s Tea Party In the tower with the winding stair Frida Kahlo manned the door And God and the Devil were there The artist was stood in the shadows Silently summoning me To stand with him like a tiny child At the edge of an innocent sea He showed me the sadness of circuses And the violent colours of night Swept by the brush of his sorrow Upon canvases heavy with light He showed me the bones of roses Strewn on a luminous land Yama and Dali and Karma and Kali A heart in a mannequin’s hand He showed me a skull full of sinister dolls The ink on a baby’s skin The wild provocation of beauty And the unsubtle presence of sin He showed me unusual clichés Arranged in original ways Dudes in the gloom of a glorious doom Rocking the Ancient of Days He showed me a girl with an earring A boy sat alone with a scream The mischievous mosh of Breughel and Bosch Through acrylic satirical dream He showed me the judgement of jesters The torments of transient lust The whirling of dervishes whipping up wind The imprints of pride in the dust As he showed me his rainbow emotions His passion, and bright neon grace Solemn tears came tumbling down His secret and hidden face When I asked for the key to his magic To his powerful mystical prayer He turned In silence And pointed to The lonely clown on the stair ‘Tis time to face the darkness The words of the flyer had said In Simon Griffiths’ art I found The light of his soul instead © Gail Foster 2016