Renoir
Crucified by arthritis
But still in love with young beauty
Sun light reflected off skin
Pale as African ivory
Dazzling blue eyes
Opened wide to new life
Adolescents bathing
Larking in spring water
Auburn hair flying
Clothing scattered to the Mistral
And affirming his existence
The crippled man forcing
A luxury of pigments
Into the neutral canvas
The terrifying blankness
The negativity of Hades
His fingers curled up tight
As if nailed onto a cross
His pain beyond all help
But the sun still on his face
Dazzled eyes bright with laughter
The fierce light not yet dying
Trevor John Karsavin Potter
April 26th. - 27th. 2015.
Tuesday, 28 April 2015
Wednesday, 22 April 2015
German Shepherd.
Your German Shepherd had proved to be
unpopular
Lying on top of your single bed growling
While we two were trying to make love.
That night the moon was an electroplated
penny
Lobbed up high into a misty sky
Beyond all hope of spending.
I wasted one whole hour staring upwards
Waiting for that dog to shuffle slowly
Into the unmown field that was your garden.
Eventually he loaned us some small space,
And taking advantage, we kicked him out of
doors
And turned the key behind him.
Peace now reigned,
Even the sheep were sleeping,
The horses had their heads down.
Side by side we watched the distant stars
Glittering far above the opened window;
They mocked the lustre of the false faced moon.
Trevor John Karsavin Potter.
April 16th. - 21st. 2015.
For J P.
Monday, 20 April 2015
Listening to Scriabin`s Reverie. (Revised).
Burdened with sound
The air becomes dark, like the depths of the ocean,
Slow waves moving overhead.
The audience sways gently to the moods of the music,
A tight packed shoal tugged at by currents
Stronger than muscle or mind.
This, perhaps, is a type of ecstasy,
Not religious, but purely physical,
Weighted down to time and space
Like the extreme emotions of love.
Trevor John Karsavin Potter.
19th. - 20th. April 2015.
The air becomes dark, like the depths of the ocean,
Slow waves moving overhead.
The audience sways gently to the moods of the music,
A tight packed shoal tugged at by currents
Stronger than muscle or mind.
This, perhaps, is a type of ecstasy,
Not religious, but purely physical,
Weighted down to time and space
Like the extreme emotions of love.
Trevor John Karsavin Potter.
19th. - 20th. April 2015.
Wednesday, 15 April 2015
Two Poems. Night Vision. (21st. Century Medea). Christmas Eve - Fermanagh. (Revised).
Night Vision. (21st. Century Medea}.
1.
Every night I dream how sad you are
Crying into your pillow
But afraid to pick up the phone
2.
Tawny hair shielding downcast eyes
like a curtain
When you kissed me
But now the mask is in place
And nowt that I do can shift it
3.
I am reminded of that portrait of Germaine Tailleferre
Wearing a small French beret
But the style does not suit you
You seem to be hiding from life
Seem to be always in mourning
4.
Once you were not so shy
Once you were full of laughter
Your dress bunched up for a pillow
The damp hay in your hair
Dark eyes shining brightly
5.
Do you still write home to the children?
Do you still mention my name?
Trevor John Karsavin Potter.
15th. April 2015.
------------------------------------------------------
Christmas Eve - Fermanagh. (New Version).
There are no bright colours here -
The sky - pale as a shroud
Soaked in tears -
The sun - a dim white eye
Half closed among vast clouds.
The bone thin winter trees
Reach up like gnarled hands
Pleading -
Old saints desperate in prayer
Their faith undying -
Their epoch slowly fading.-
The blank horizon pressing down
Onto an ancient landscape
Haunted by a thin pale moon.
The hills are full of ghosts -
Dumb echoes of time past -
Dark tales of abject poverty.-
Clouds spread wide like canvas sails
That once drove famine ships.
Awaiting their congregations
The grey stone village churches
Stand like border forts -
Gaunt symbols of partition. -
I was not born here -
But I might as well have been.-
I am at home in a frontier landscape
Where nothing is fixed or certain.
Trevor John Karsavin Potter.
December 24th. - 25th. - 30th. December 2014.
January 2nd. - April 16th. 2015.
Edited and revised May 21st. 2015. - March 19th. 2016.
Impressions noted down in Enniskillen and Belcoo.
1.
Every night I dream how sad you are
Crying into your pillow
But afraid to pick up the phone
2.
Tawny hair shielding downcast eyes
like a curtain
When you kissed me
But now the mask is in place
And nowt that I do can shift it
3.
I am reminded of that portrait of Germaine Tailleferre
Wearing a small French beret
But the style does not suit you
You seem to be hiding from life
Seem to be always in mourning
4.
Once you were not so shy
Once you were full of laughter
Your dress bunched up for a pillow
The damp hay in your hair
Dark eyes shining brightly
5.
Do you still write home to the children?
Do you still mention my name?
Trevor John Karsavin Potter.
15th. April 2015.
------------------------------------------------------
Christmas Eve - Fermanagh. (New Version).
There are no bright colours here -
The sky - pale as a shroud
Soaked in tears -
The sun - a dim white eye
Half closed among vast clouds.
The bone thin winter trees
Reach up like gnarled hands
Pleading -
Old saints desperate in prayer
Their faith undying -
Their epoch slowly fading.-
The blank horizon pressing down
Onto an ancient landscape
Haunted by a thin pale moon.
The hills are full of ghosts -
Dumb echoes of time past -
Dark tales of abject poverty.-
Clouds spread wide like canvas sails
That once drove famine ships.
Awaiting their congregations
The grey stone village churches
Stand like border forts -
Gaunt symbols of partition. -
I was not born here -
But I might as well have been.-
I am at home in a frontier landscape
Where nothing is fixed or certain.
Trevor John Karsavin Potter.
December 24th. - 25th. - 30th. December 2014.
January 2nd. - April 16th. 2015.
Edited and revised May 21st. 2015. - March 19th. 2016.
Impressions noted down in Enniskillen and Belcoo.
Monday, 13 April 2015
Two Bitter Songs from January 1981. (Revised).
1
Song - You Need a Guru.
Your body is young
But your mind much younger;
You hide in the dark
Like a child below stairs.
You cannot share dreams,
nor talk to a stranger,
Your life is a nightmare of uncontrolled fears.
Who are you?
How could I talk to you?
How open up to you?
How tune into you?
You need a Guru
To unplug your ears.
Today I accept you,
But tomorrow I`ll fear you
Because when I touch you
You break into tears.
You refuse to have friends in the house for a party,
But speed off to a rave
and crash all the gears!
What can I do for you?
How can I break through to you?
Perhaps make love to you?
Find the truth of you?
You need a Guru
To unplug your ears.
Trevor John Karsavin Potter.
18th. January 1981.
Revised 13th. April 2015. - 15th. February 2020.
------------------------------------------------
2.
Song - You are a Plastic Person.
You never give, You only take;
You never buy, You only steal;
You have never touched a raw nerve
Because you cannot feel.
You have never seen the difference
Between the abstract and the real,
I cannot name a single day
When you cooked a decent meal;
You are a Plastic Person
That`s all you are,
You are a Plastic Person
It will not get you very far.
You never love. You only hate;
You never talk, You only scream;
You are like a shadow puppet
Dancing on a paper screen;
You sit beside your bed all day
Jingling your tambourine;
You never give an inch of space
But always hog the scene;
You are a Plastic Person
That`s all you are,
You are a Plastic Person
It will not get you very far.
Trevor John Karsavin Potter.
January 23rd. 1981. - February 23rd. 2013.
October 24th. 2014. - April 2nd. 2015.
February 15th. 2020.
First written during the prolonged break up of an always difficult relationship. I was taken to the very edge of a nervous breakdown and these two songs represent how I felt at the time. I do not like them but they are painfully honest.
Song - You Need a Guru.
Your body is young
But your mind much younger;
You hide in the dark
Like a child below stairs.
You cannot share dreams,
nor talk to a stranger,
Your life is a nightmare of uncontrolled fears.
Who are you?
How could I talk to you?
How open up to you?
How tune into you?
You need a Guru
To unplug your ears.
Today I accept you,
But tomorrow I`ll fear you
Because when I touch you
You break into tears.
You refuse to have friends in the house for a party,
But speed off to a rave
and crash all the gears!
What can I do for you?
How can I break through to you?
Perhaps make love to you?
Find the truth of you?
You need a Guru
To unplug your ears.
Trevor John Karsavin Potter.
18th. January 1981.
Revised 13th. April 2015. - 15th. February 2020.
------------------------------------------------
2.
Song - You are a Plastic Person.
You never give, You only take;
You never buy, You only steal;
You have never touched a raw nerve
Because you cannot feel.
You have never seen the difference
Between the abstract and the real,
I cannot name a single day
When you cooked a decent meal;
You are a Plastic Person
That`s all you are,
You are a Plastic Person
It will not get you very far.
You never love. You only hate;
You never talk, You only scream;
You are like a shadow puppet
Dancing on a paper screen;
You sit beside your bed all day
Jingling your tambourine;
You never give an inch of space
But always hog the scene;
You are a Plastic Person
That`s all you are,
You are a Plastic Person
It will not get you very far.
Trevor John Karsavin Potter.
January 23rd. 1981. - February 23rd. 2013.
October 24th. 2014. - April 2nd. 2015.
February 15th. 2020.
First written during the prolonged break up of an always difficult relationship. I was taken to the very edge of a nervous breakdown and these two songs represent how I felt at the time. I do not like them but they are painfully honest.
Tuesday, 7 April 2015
(1) Easter 1966, New Version. (2). Elegiac Dawn.
1.
Easter 1966. For J P. (New Version).
Girl
I remember the warmth of your love in a cold house:
The April wind rattling the sash windows:
The street dogs yelping.
We seldom linked our fingers, cuddled or kissed;
For hours we lay side by side writing ballads,
Their words long since forgotten.
One night we wove two wedding rings from strands of cotton;
But the plaintive wail of passing trains
Told of unplanned journeys.
Twice we consulted the cards, measured our life lines.
Your fate seemed tied to the north,
Mine to the City, close by the docks and the river.
My life has been lived out in London,
Yours in Belfast, right through the dark of the troubles,
Decades devoid of pity. A shadow has fallen between us.
Girl
This poem is an intimate letter
Encrypted into the night
On the keyboard of my computer.
I have not, for one moment, ceased pining,
And time does not value compassion.
Please send a few words tomorrow.
Trevor John Karsavin Potter.
April 11th. 12th 2014. October 7th. - 8th. 2014.
April 6th. - 7th. - 8th. 2015.
------------------------------------------------------------
2.
Elegiac Dawn.
Obscurely in autumnal light
Dancing figures on the lawn
Attend the death of youth.
Clutched by gloved hands
November fruits
Wither and pall,
Decaying beyond all hope or use
Before they have fully grown;
They shrivel and blacken then fall apart
In the frosty light of dawn.
Summer brought new hope
But summer was brief;
Love waned and sickened in November light;
Love learns to die while being born.
Trevor John Karsavin Potter.
Sketched September 15th. - 16th. 1976.
Rewritten and completed, April 4th. 2015.
Written after looking at sculptures by Henri Mattisse.
Easter 1966. For J P. (New Version).
Girl
I remember the warmth of your love in a cold house:
The April wind rattling the sash windows:
The street dogs yelping.
We seldom linked our fingers, cuddled or kissed;
For hours we lay side by side writing ballads,
Their words long since forgotten.
One night we wove two wedding rings from strands of cotton;
But the plaintive wail of passing trains
Told of unplanned journeys.
Twice we consulted the cards, measured our life lines.
Your fate seemed tied to the north,
Mine to the City, close by the docks and the river.
My life has been lived out in London,
Yours in Belfast, right through the dark of the troubles,
Decades devoid of pity. A shadow has fallen between us.
Girl
This poem is an intimate letter
Encrypted into the night
On the keyboard of my computer.
I have not, for one moment, ceased pining,
And time does not value compassion.
Please send a few words tomorrow.
Trevor John Karsavin Potter.
April 11th. 12th 2014. October 7th. - 8th. 2014.
April 6th. - 7th. - 8th. 2015.
------------------------------------------------------------
2.
Elegiac Dawn.
Obscurely in autumnal light
Dancing figures on the lawn
Attend the death of youth.
Clutched by gloved hands
November fruits
Wither and pall,
Decaying beyond all hope or use
Before they have fully grown;
They shrivel and blacken then fall apart
In the frosty light of dawn.
Summer brought new hope
But summer was brief;
Love waned and sickened in November light;
Love learns to die while being born.
Trevor John Karsavin Potter.
Sketched September 15th. - 16th. 1976.
Rewritten and completed, April 4th. 2015.
Written after looking at sculptures by Henri Mattisse.
Wednesday, 1 April 2015
To Cynthia From Trevor.
The faintest echo of a long ago friendship
Your name
whispered into the stillness
The emptiness of tonight
which is all that we now have
Cynthia
I miss you
I miss you
Trevor John Karsavin Potter.
April 1st. 2015.
In Loving Memory of Cynthia Lennon 1939 - 2015, who I used to meet with John in London in the 1960`s, most often in The One Tun Goodge Street.
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