(1) Bright Dandelions. (2) Dandelion Removal.(3) Nuits Saint Georges and Josephine.

                               1.

                    Bright Dandelions. 

The beauty of these dandelions reminding me of you,
My wild flower,
My rider of the untamed ponies
Trekking summer fields
Fording rock strewn rivers.

Wide teenage eyes laughing,
Pantheistic, fierce in the pre dawn half light,
Pristine mirrors of the god.
Small hands grasping thrusting shoulders.
Yellow hair streaming.

Distorted by technology,
The lens coarse ground, unfocused,
You on your wild pony, white shirt torn open;
This Kodak printed image
Fades, nicotine stained by sunlight.

These days I now prefer to trust
The embroideries of my memory
However worn and ancient;

The finest patterns crafted with the threads of Sichuan silk
Lofted high on Pennine wind.

Trevor John Karsavin Potter. 
16th. - 18th.- 22nd. April 2013. 

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                              2.

                  Dandelion Removal.

I drag the Dandelion out of the narrow border
With trowel and fingers:
Tearing apart my chosen victim, my class A prisoner,
Into several ragged pieces.
Shreds of life that did not seem to matter
Thrown to the April wind.
With one quick move I serenely sacrifice
The unwanted ugly baby.

I become in my garden a sort of amateur Nazi
Trying to enforce strict order
With spade and sharp edged hoe.
Thrusting the heal of my green boot into the raw earth
I arrange the perfected, the vacuum packed species
Into long well mannered rows.
This is my chance to indulge in a little fanaticism,
To drill a small notch in the world.

Trevor John Karsavin Potter. 
15th. April 2013. - 12th. September 2014. 

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                                 3.

Nuits Saint Georges and Josephine. 

I taste you in this wine,
The sweet and bitter fruits
Dissolving over my tongue
And slithering into my belly
To make me very drunk,
Like Nelson stuck in the Brandy.

The intoxication explains to me
With simple, Pub Time stories,
Why I have never felt properly sane
When left alone in your company
My Showgirl of the windswept horses.

I am completely enthralled by your face,
My python slung Eurydice,
My Gypsy with the raven black hair
And Big Top bare back grace,
Your unprincipled savoir - faire
That your friends think fine and funny,
Has led us to the brink of disgrace.

I fear you will saunter away
Like a Pop Stars doting baby
Caught up in the underworld heat
That snakes through the depths of our city.
I can see you in Wardour Street
Bereft of your favourite pony,
Earning your living in Bars
With the voice of a victimized angel,
And your delicate dancing feet.

Trevor John Karsavin Potter. 
13th. April 2013. - 27th. June - 15th. August  2013.


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