1.
Music Lesson.
That morning early
You walked out of my room
With your guitar slung over your shoulder.
Well, it certainly appears that my rival
Has six strings
And a very elegant neck.
I cannot compete with such beauty,
I am old and somewhat tarnished,
Shaped like a Double Bass
and drooping every which way.
If you tap me hard, like a drum kit,
Or play on my nerves, pizzicato,
I will surely sound cracked and hollow; -
My good bow a jumble of horse hair,
My pegs flicked onto the floor.
But
If you decide to return, and I`m hopeful,
Just leave the guitar in the hall.
Trevor John Karsavin Potter.
18th. - 19th. June. - 6th. July 2015.
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2.
Halloween Haunting. A Cryptic Poem About Southwark.
Only good whores become saints.
The black cat with a human face
Stared out of the shadows of Park Street
Like a Winchester Goose turned bad.
I ran for the shelter of the market
But sensed that I was now hotly pursued
By a girl in a short crimson dress
Wearing a steeple hat.
It was at this instant that I decided
That marriage is a safer option
Than wandering the streets at night.
The brushing of your fur backwards
That Saturday night in the Snug Bar
Was merely a simple accident,
Not a revelation of my inner motives.
And when I brought up the Winchester Goose Girls
The reference was purely historic,
But perhaps the Hot Toddy was talking.
Love always comes at a price,
Especially for social misfits,
And a Party is no place to make friends,
We get woozy just staring at costumes,
And gabble inarticulate comments.
That red skirt did remind me of broomsticks,
But don`t you dare alter to please me,
I prefer the rough edges intact.
But remember, I do not like claws,
And I was not dropped to earth by a bat.
Trevor John Karsavin Potter.
November 3rd. 4th. 2014.
Rewritten June 19th. - July 6th. 2015.
The Bishop of Winchesters Geese were medieval prostitutes.
I hope that I have not offended any of the spirits of these fine Southwark ladies.
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