1.
Stockhausen Recalled.
My voice went into the machine.
The composer played his trump
card.
An infinity of sounds emerged
Weaving new worlds in the air.
Hearken
how the new worlds developed.
Houses of cards rise and fall.
At last there is only the memory
Slowly degrading.
Permanence seems a reflection.
Loft high a well aimed stone.
Even the frame falls apart.
Trevor John Karsavin Potter.
January 6th. - 8th. 2016.
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2.
One August Bank Holiday Monday.
The first night that we spent together,
Our hearts were singing like the woodland birds
At bright midsummer.
Your body that soft night was lithe and supple,
Slim as a windblown Weeping Willow
Pictured on Chinese porcelain.
You moved beneath me in the summer stillness
To the twinned pulsing of our mutual breathing
And whispered covert words of gratitude
Into the scrunched up pillow.
You were not scared,
And goaded me with kicks and thumps to love you,
Although you once had spied from a dark corner
The slow and painful birth of your small sister;
Your mother screaming, the bedspread soaked in blood.
You held me close all night,
Denied me sleep,
Kicking me whenever I turned over,
Turning my back on you.
Alas we knew the morning would be bitter,
We had to make our separate tracks and travel
To long haul destinations
Too many miles apart.
Indeed we had no clue
When next our paths would cross
And we could snuggle down in bed together
And squabble the whole night through.
Trevor John Karsavin Potter.
June 22nd. - November 28th. 2015.
December 5th. 2015. - January 3rd. 2016.
This is a complete rewriting of a poem first posted in June 2015.
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