Under the Bridge, Poems 1 - 2 - 3 & 4. Illustration for the month of June on my Japanese Calendar. (Three poems and a Coda).

      Under the Bridge, Poem 1.


Under the curved bow of this bridge
The river, a placid mirror
Reflecting nothing.

The fisherman, casting his line, stirs no ripples.
The cargo boats seem fixed upon the water
Although the oars dig deep,

Dig deep through the glassy sun glitzed surface
With great effort,
But the boats seem never to have moved,
Never to have known a harbour.
Their cargoes are bound for nowhere
Although the crewmen sweat and heave.

Travellers climb the steep curve of the bridge
As though it were a mountain.
They cling onto the railings for dear life.
And yet they also seem to travel nowhere,
The bridge the start and finish of their journeys
However hard they struggle:
No roads are visible on either shore.

I cannot accept this river does not flow,
I want to lob a brick into the stillness,
Then watch the waves break loose.

                            *

     Under the Bridge, Poem 2. 


Sketched with simple brush strokes, black and white,
Mount Fuji dominates the far horizon,
A prayer in stone that cannot be erased.

Overarching the foreground the bow shaped bridge
Appears huge when compared to the distant mountain,
So small beneath the evening clouds.

The bow of the bridge seems to span the world,
But it is only a footbridge built with cheap wood
That crosses a river of no importance.

All things that folk build are merely temporary,
We are no stronger than Beavers slowing a stream
With dams that a fierce storm will break,

But Mount Fuji shall remain until the rocks catch fire
In the final conflagrations of the sun.


                           * 

     Under the Bridge, Poem 3.


Movement and silence
Frozen in time,
The mountain has caste no shadow.

There are no shadows in this picture.
The sky, a white and blue mirror
Reflecting nothing.

The water absorbing white and indigo
Is brother and sister to the serene sky
That lacks both sun and moon.

Merchants crossing the bow shaped bridge
Were sketched for no apparent reason
Except to make the bridge seem real,

More real than the inkling of a dream
Fixed forever on wood and paper.

I turn the calendar to the wall.
I can no longer look at this picture.


                         *

    Under the Bridge, Poem 4.

                  Coda.


Stillness and movement delicately combined
To create a tense tranquility
That puzzles both the eye - and mind,
Transform this painting into something that is more
Than a simple depiction of river - bridge and shore,
It is as though the world is frozen for a moment,
A moment stilled until the picture fades
And I remove it from my kitchen door.

The blues and whites have melted into grey.
The people seem less vital than they were
When first created by old Hokusai
As he worked his magic on the fragile paper.
It is as though, with precise art, he found a way
To depict clearly the weirdness of Satori, -
Stillness and movement delicately combined
To create a tense tranquillity in the puzzled mind.


Trevor John Karsavin Potter.
April 18th. - 21st. - May 6th. - 7th. - 8th. - 13th. - 17th. - 24th. 2019.