1.
Bonjour Sunshine, How Soon the Dog Days?
Something the Press named Summer surprised me
Leaping into my face like a bitch on heat
Licking me all over with a pumice tongue
Making my day
And then
At the very first hint of a Nordic wind
Skedaddled to hide in a distant corner
Yelping
No "on your marks" thoroughbred this
Nor even a jumped up loser
Just an eye on the main chance Mongrel
Or so it seems
This is the English Summer that we busted the Bank for
Teetering on debt fuelled tenterhooks
day after raw skinned day
Waiting for the trap to spring
Open
Stubs in our hands
Watching the young Hares gambol
But because we are feckless
Snobs to the raw
We have often seemed coldly abashed when she comes
Prancing on hind legs
Prattling out of the blue
Larking
Tongue down our throats like a fair weather friend
Stinking of sodden blankets
Not even the on hand Vet can master this miscreant canine -
His Strong Man grip proves useless
Likewise his throw away needles
All day to day methods fall flat -
This megawatt scallywag is much too much her own mistress
Trevor John Karsavin Potter.
May 27th. - 28th. - 29th.2013.
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2.
The Lost Doll (Revised Version).
Just tossed into a ditch
A Spanish doll
Staring sadly out at an upturned world
Through cracked green eyes.
Matted eyelashes;
Her nose broken;
Hands drooping helplessly
Over her torn dress;
Porcelain face blackened.
The wooden body swollen;
Dead straight stockined pegs
Disguised as nimble legs
Fit for a Gypsy dancer
Trapped under slabs of pine,
The trashed and scattered remnants
Of a chucked out chest of drawers
Drenched in black water.
I wanted to rescue that doll,
Steal her from the grip of the water
That would rapidly break her down
Into sodden bits and pieces,
The usual unloved garbage;
But her crude cut beauty repulsed me,
Her feline cracked green eyes
Staring blankly into my face
Forced me to keep my distance,
Leave her to her fate.
I continued my trek down the rutted lane
Just once I looked back
Before I reached the corner
Trevor John Karsavin Potter.
20th. April - 21st. - 24th. May 25th.- 26th.- June 2013.
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3.
Julia Agrippina.
After murdering her husband
She slipped the leash
And went out to tend the roses
The Guard Dog on the patio
Scratched himself lazily
When she passed
She opened the gate quietly
Side stepping a pool of shadow
Beneath the Emperor`s window
She stretched her hands up
into the roof of the trellis
To reach the tardy blooms
The rare buds of October
The flowers in the garden
Reeked beauty from her touch
Her fingernails were golden
Trevor John Karsavin Potter.
May 21st. - 22nd. - 23rd. 2013.
From an idea first dreamt up in May 1964.
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