(1) Autumn Travails, Original Version (2) A Fragment.

                     1.

          Autumn Travails. Original Version.


Perhaps we are already in mourning.

The passengers all appear to be wearing black.

We huddle inside this commuter train,
Jolted unceremoniously towards London
Like a jumble of nondescript freight.

As has often been the case in my life
I appear to be the odd one out.
I am dressed in grey.
Black is too formal for me.

October will begin tomorrow.
The golden month with the cruel edge,
A knife in the belly of the old year
Slowly draining the last warm dregs of vibrant colour.

Even now the sun grows mellow, indistinct;
Soon it will vanish completely,
Submerged under a bruise of Autumn clouds
Mauling the pastel skies.

The sun will remain dead to us.

The sun will remain dead to us.
Dead until the raw winds of March
Worry the gaunt trees
Out of their gnarled sleep;

Worry the dead colours back into life.

The sun will remain dead to us.
Dead until the dark bruise disperses
And warm blood pulses through the healed veins,
Pumped by a vigorous heart.


Trevor John Karsavin Potter.
September 28th. - 29th. 2013.
February 11th. 2014.
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                    2.

            A Fragment.


The fragility of moonlight frosting your face
Reminds me of swans drifting through mist
Upon still waters


Trevor John Karsavin Potter
May 10th. 1984. - September 29th. 2013.

Loss.

Tasting your wine

                Inconsolable

Stung by bitterness

                I think of you

Holding the child towards me



My Love

Your absence darkens my world view

An iron curtain shutting down
The light that I had always lived by

As though I was not there



Tonight I miss you talking to me

Enigmatic

                Soulful

Almost priest like when you lied



I would note the oblique lilt of your laughter
Those times you sorted dried flowers in the kitchen

Your chair tilted back

The child asleep in your arms



It is too hard - too hard - to live alone
Bearing the weight of a memory
That
         I cannot now shrug off

With the ease that I shredded your photo



Trevor John Karsavin Potter
22nd. September 2013.
Part sketched 4th. - 7th. December 2012.

(1) At First Sight. (2) Untitled.

                     1.

             At First Sight.


The moment I arrived at the Theatre
Your smile revoked the dark spaces
With a fierce light
That for that moment dislodged cold reason.

I wanted to kiss you,
But your smile also flickered a warning,
An indiscrete Stop - Go innuendo
Designed to repel hasty actions.

I stood stock still in the door way
Fearing examination by spotlight,
My new script already waste paper.
Love is not so easily accomplished.


Trevor John Karsavin Potter. 
17th. September 2013. 
Note: I mean "Indiscrete" not "Indiscreet".

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                   2.

             Untitled.


       September clouds
       Dirty washing
       Grey as a bat`s wing


Trevor John Karsavin Potter.
14th. September 2013. 

Dream Laden Spring. (First, rejected version)).

The morning after we celebrated your birthday
the wind turned mild;
Wild daffodils rocked like dreaming children
beside the quiet river;
Skeletal trees ducked and weaved under clouds
That drifted silent as swans.
Winter had slippered off for an early sleep over
On the peaks of far away mountains.

And then, as was usual at this time of year,
Numerous rumours awoke and swiftly flourished
Among old wives crouched around the camp fire;
A cornucopia of worried Fortune Tellers
Whispering informally together.-

The phoenix was seen alive upon a Monday,
She zig zagged through a galaxy of branches
To scorch dead wood; scintillate the nascent blossom
Into life with sacred fire.
A unicorn, tamed by a young girl`s simple kindness,
Pranced in a distant meadow for one whole Sunday,
Then misted away in a trice like April snow.
A dog faced boy was found half dead in a cellar;
A wolf brought shame on a black eyed red cloaked virgin;
A milch cow cited Homer to the vicar;
A cockerel outmanoeuvred a ravenous vixen;
A horse gave birth to a cat.
Tall tales that were clutched to old hearts like tainted silver
Now that the cold time was over.

But we could not rest, you and I.
We could not hide our fears in a corner.
We had known too much pain
that morning in early December
When the surgery failed to save
Our unborn daughter.
We could not join the dreamers, you and I,
But remained inside your ancient Gypsy Wagon
Curled up tight together
Listening to the changes in the weather:

Anticipating a knock of muffled heartbeats;
Your doctor`s benediction; a nascent tear;
A sharp kick in the belly;
The new life turning, yearning deep within you,
The longed for twins conceived so quickly after
The passing of their sister.
We do not care for the strange talk of the dreamers:
This new, unexpected, late in life reality
Demands our full attention.


Trevor John Karsavin Potter.
September 5th. - 6th. - 9th. 2013. From an idea sketched March 10th. 2011. 
October 21st.2013.
Prefered rewritten version published June 15th. 2016..