(1) The Destruction of a Simple Man. (2) Stages of Cruelty.

                        1.

The Destruction of a Simple Man.


The empty space on the Gallery wall;
A hole in the heart;

A world of tears.

The thief was a pyromaniac;
He danced in fire.
His need to burn the painting
Killed the artist
With the strike of a single match.

The kidnapped painting,
Cut out, transported,
Pressed flat inside a suitcase
Half a year,
Suddenly revealed to the midday sun
A new darkness, a pile of ash;
A lost child;
A question mark
Scratched on the wall of time.

(The suitcase was preserved,
                     even cherished,
For the thief it had some purpose,
                     some meaning;
It could be used until worn out
Like a raincoat, a pair of sturdy Brogues). 

It should be noted
The thief was a practical man,
His priorities simple;
Not to be caught in the act;
Not to face The Beak;
Not to go down for decades.
Self preservation his only mantra,
His hour had not yet come.

He could not sell the painting
But he had to save his skin,
Preserve his aching joints.

Even Hitler knew much better:
He razed the Cathedral at Coventry
To clarify one or two points;

The eradication of rock hard history;
The nihilism of naked power.


Trevor John Karsavin Potter.
May 30th. - 31st. - June 1st. - July 16th. - September 3rd. 2013. 

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                       2.

Stages of Cruelty.


Under the cats paw
The grey mouse shrieks

Under the Vets needle
Moggy falls asleep


Trevor John Karsavin Potter.
July 2nd. 2013.

(1).Pastoral. (2). The Kill.

              1.

        Pastoral.

The rabbit listens, and
Hearing no sharp sounds,
No thrashings in air,
Moves deftly, swiftly
With no trick, no fear,
Into the wind flecked lace
Of the meadow;



He savours the cold spring morning;

The sobs of the streams are music to his ears;

His leaps and runs barely shake the grasses.



Suddenly he stops, half startled,
Alert, but not yet afraid.
He sits stock still, a grey stone;
His heart now fiercely racing,
His dark eyes fixed, intent.



The distant farmhouse seems to be asleep.

The distant lane dips empty between trees.

The distant sheep bunch silent in their field.



Poised in the mouth of the wind
On wings as still as ice
The fierce hawk hangs.


Trevor John Karsavin Potter.
February 7th. 1967. - January 13th. 1972. - July 8th. 2013.

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               2. 

          The Kill.

Deep in the moonlit valley
All life is hushed;
Nothing stirs, nothing wakens,
Only the quiet breathing
Of the wind.

Like a scalpel a rodent`s cry
Rips open the womb of night.-
Wing beats thrusting upward
Crush the wild sound.

Scratched on air a living shadow
The young hawk soars
Riding the breath of the wind:-
For a moment the wood is alive
With a hundred thousand voices
Shrieking alarm.

A dark shape cuts the pocked face
Of the dumb cold moon
Then drops out of sight........

For a time the danger has passed.

The panic subsides.

Slowly the raw wound closes.


Trevor John karsavin Potter.
June 4th. 1974. - June 27th. - July 8th.  2013.