(1) Moon. (2) The Pianist. (Revised Version).

                1.

            Moon.

The Moon and I are pals.
She rests in the branches of my apple tree
Like a white fruit;
An Arctic Owl,
Her hooded eyes the texture of raw shale,
Her smile a curved shadow,
Her laugh is silent.

In her presence I keep no secret.
My transgression starkly exposed
Under the spotlight.
The surgeon`s hatchet honed.
I have sensed her forensic gaze skewer me as I sleep;
Slicing into my dream world
Like twin diamond points
Polished to kill.
But she commits no murder this time,
She is merely a cool observer,
A non judgemental spy. -
My lover watches the Moon for half the night,
But she is not an expert astronomer.

I have been a rover more years than I dare remember;
Living from moment to moment,
From hour to hour;
Grasping unlikely luck with both strong hands.
The Moon, as ever, the only reliable witness,
Impaled in the old apple tree,
Unable to alter her view point;
Unable to find her tongue.


Trevor John Karsavin Potter.
July 12th. - 28th. - 29th. 2013.
Opening two lines only, September 1971.

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                2.

       The Pianist. (Revised Version).

You play every note right
But do not touch my heart

The soul lives in the gaps
Between the plunging octaves

Haunts the empty spaces
The sudden depths of silence

You play every note right
But never get the point

The beauty of life is found within
our everyday               mistakes

So please pack up the sheet music
Before you come to bed

You have played every note right
Staccato rhythms knock me dead

But if truth were told Miss Horowitz
Your style is a touch too smart

I had rather get you in the raw
Than refined by Liszt and Bach


Trevor John Karsavin Potter.
August 2nd. - 3rd. - 4th.  2013.
April 23rd. 2015.