(1) Bleak Evening. (2) After the Run (New Version).

               
                  1.
         Bleak Evening.

The familiar is now strange and hostile.
I crouch down by the darkened window weeping,
Head pressed against the glass.

You walked out of my room when the clock struck seven,
Clunky sensible shoes scuffing the carpet
As though it were the enemy, an impediment to your departure.

Stunned by irrevocable loss
My mind grows blank with fear,
Equilibrium destroyed.

You had begged me not to watch you leave,
To turn my face to the wall and close my eyes,
But the imagined is always more cruel than the simple truth.

Outside the streets are empty, lashed by rain.
The violence of the night wind shakes the casement.


Trevor John Karsavin Potter.
August 14th. - 25th. 2014. 

-------------------------------------------
                  2

       After the Run.

The night the Play closed
The imagined characters vanished like dry ice
Blown on the wind.

The actors were left to fret and mourn
For a loss more poignant than the deaths of friends
Or the parting of coleagues revered and adored.

It was hard to relinquish the love that they felt
For personas created night after night
As they trod the unforgiving boards.

Even the cascades of excited applause
Could not fill a space now dark and empty;
Nothing, in fact, could assuage such sorrow.

The bunches of flowers thrown down on the stage
Tumbled like snow that would melt tomorrow.


Trevor John Karsavin Potter. 
August 25th. - 27th. 2014.

I would like to say thank you to everyone who reads my poems, especially to Malcolm Evison who has encouraged my writing and painting over many years.