One Hundred Poems Explained by the Nurse. (Illustration for November on my Japanese Calendar. Revised).

Hunched in a boat rocked by dark seas
The nurse is reciting one hundred poems
As though her whole life had been lived for this moment.
Tonight she looks far into the frightened eyes
Of her kneeling companion, gently touching her shoulder
As she calms her with soft spoken words.

The two women crouch low in the flimsy boat
While the oarsmen stand tall and dig deep for the shore
Their backs bending into the weight of their work.
A voice fierce with omens and treacherous dreams
Calls from the depths of the indigo ocean,
Cries that only the sailors can hear.

The nurse and her companion are land loving folk,
They are deaf to the subtle voice of the ocean,
The tall tales of sailors mean nothing to them.
The one hundred poems that the nurse reveals
In all their sonorous and intricate detail
Are songs of the meadows and meandering streams,

They are songs of the forests dissolving in mist;
Songs of the north lands man deep in snow.
Meanwhile in the prow of the wind ravaged boat
The lookout pulls hard on a long green rope
Taut as a Samurai`s bow in battle.
He pulls and pulls - the rope is snagged on the spine of a reef.

He spies through the waves strange corals and fishes
That seem to have come from a time beyond knowing,
A lost world far from the shores of Japan.
The women crouched in the depths of the boat
Know nothing of the visions that the lookout is scrying,
Their longing is for home and a quiet fireside chat.

The sky is the yellow of a November evening,
The long black hours are just minutes away,
But the boat has not yet reached a sheltered mooring,
That is why the oarsmen are digging so deep. -
A voice fierce with omens and treacherous dreams
Calls to the oarsmen from the depths of the ocean.

Where this journey commenced I cannot now tell you,
And where it will end is a riddle and a half.

Perhaps answers lie in the tall tales of sailors,
Or in the one hundred poems explained by the nurse.


Trevor John Karsavin Potter.
13th. - 14th. - 15th. September. - 18th. - 31st. October 2019. - 

4 th. March 2023.

From the print by Hokusai.

Three short poems. (1) Wistfulness. (2) Sparrows in Flight. (3) Transitions.

                  1


          Wistfulness.


Writing a poem in autumn.
Catching the falling leaves
Before they touch the ground.


                   2

                    Sparrows in Flight.


The shadows of birds darting passed my window;
        Never again in this exact formation; 
              Never again at precisely 10.


               3

           Transitions.


She studies her face in the water.
A stone falls - SPLASH.
When the ripples are gone
Who will be watching.



Trevor John Karsavin Potter.
October 30th. 2019.
November 11th. 2019.

Trevor J Potter's Art: Japan.(Revised).

Trevor J Potter's Art: Japan.(Revised).: I did not know Mount Fuji was so large. The artist has certainly come up with a powerful image, Part real - part picture postcard. Saili...

The Beautiful Night Dream of Li Qingzhao. From the Chinese (Revised).

I will never forget the time
I was so drunk the beautiful crimson pavilions
Spun about my head like wheeling flamingos.
My late night boat,
Lost among a thousand lotuses,
The flowers so many,
So tightly woven together
It seemed unlikely that we would ever be released
From this kingdom of floating blossoms.
In fear I cried out loudly to the invisible water Buddhas,
How to get free
How to get free
And a whole cliff face of startled egrets
And screeching gulls took flight.


Trevor John Karsavin Potter.
October 28th. 2019.
A response to the poems of Li Qingzhao, the wonderful Song Dynasty female poet. I fell in love with her original poem, and after reading a strictly word for word translation I responded by writing my very free version. I have made some small additions, especially the flamingos and Buddhas. I was trying to imagine how I, a twenty first century European, would have written this poem as a completely original work of art.

Trevor J Potter's Art: The Private Photo-Shoot. (Revised).

Trevor J Potter's Art: The Private Photo-Shoot. (Revised).: I lift your photograph off the shelf with a nervous hand. I should have smoothed back that wild tangle of auburn before I adjusted the c...

Cranes on the Ground and in Flight, Mount Fuji in the Background.

Dark blue Fuji.
Two Cranes soar up to the peak;
Autumn leaves caught on the wind.

Their companions cackle far below them.
Blue is a melancholy colour;
A dark shroud over our memories.


Trevor John Karsavin Potter.
October 20th. 2019.

Trevor J Potter's Art: Random Thoughts While Standing in the Groundling Q...

Trevor J Potter's Art: Random Thoughts While Standing in the Groundling Q...:                         Random Thoughts While Standing in the Groundling`s Queue. Fragments of the past come to the surface Just like ...

The Silk Road.

The road carrying the jewel of truth
Traverses land and sea, desert and mountain,
On rough tracks and motorways,
Airways and railways,
Stretching from dusty Beijing to rainy London,
From the Hindu heartlands to Szechuan.

The road carrying the jewel of truth
Crosses lakes and rivers, straights and oceans
On ships and bridges, through undersea tunnels,
Transporting smartphones, fabrics and spices;
New ideas whispered in a medley of languages;
Old ideas printed in little red books.

The road carrying the jewel of truth
Has many highways and intricate byways
Dropped like threads of delicate silk weave
Over the nations of Europe and Asia.
Once trod by Nestorians and Buddhist scholars,
Now by the purveyors of mass produced goods.

I despise border guards, all visas and barriers;
But love the multitude of religions and cultures
That bloom on this planet like flowers in June.
My homeland is sick with xenophobic delusions
But the road that carries the jewel of truth
Still glints in the sunlight of my eloquent dreams.


Trevor John Karsavin Potter.
9th. - 10th. October 2019.

The Offering.

She asked for one flower from my garden,
A single rose to be placed as a prayer
On the family shrine in her suburban home.

I do not know who this woman is,
An Indian lady small as an infant,
Her old skin wrinkled as an autumn leaf,

But when she asked her face was a picture of happiness,
So I allowed her to pick my favourite rose,
The yellow blossom transparent in sunlight.

It was no great kindness for me to do this,
The flowers in my garden are for my neighbours to look at,
A gift of colour these October days.

But because she smiled I allowed her to pick that one blossom,
And take it home into her private world.


Trevor John Karsavin Potter,
October 4th. 2019.

Trevor J Potter's Art: Love Poem.

Trevor J Potter's Art: Love Poem.: These are my words I throw them high UP into the air To make their own way in the world & hope that you will catch them Before they ...