Shakespeare, I meet you at nights in the pub,
The brothel, the goal.
You are one of our number,
A rogue and vagabond, a whore monger,
Dirt under your finger nails, spittle in your beard,
Cocking a snoop at the guardians of morality
As you write fierce plays to the thrum of the clock
In a smoke black alehouse.
Rapier sharp with raw sexual fury
Your words daub the tenements with a visceral anger
More relevant than untutored graffiti,
To tell us exactly how the wide world wags.
Thou art the truth speaker without parallel,
No public health warning can devitalize you.
Trevor John Karsavin Potter.
January 16th. - 22nd. - 23rd. 2014.
Re - written January 7th. 2015.
Wednesday, 7 January 2015
Tuesday, 30 December 2014
(1).Christmas Eve - Fermanagh. First Version. (2). O Zone.
1.
Christmas Eve - Fermanagh. (First Version).
There are no bright colours here -
The sky - pale as a shroud
Wet from weeping -
The sun - a dim white eye
Half closed among vast clouds.
The bone thin winter trees
Reach up like gnarled hands
Pleading -
Old saints at prayer
With few hopes of salvation. -
A blank horizon pressing down
Onto the ancient landscape -
Unremittingly -
Mocks this fragile sadness -
The pale sun fading
As a thin moon rises.
Cruel escarpments -
Mist sodden mountain walls
Melt like unquiet ghosts. -
Christmas Eve - Fermanagh -
The stillness gathers all unto itself
As evening settles. -
Clouds spread wide like canvas sails
That once drove famine ships.
Awaiting their congregations
The grey stone village churches
Stand like border forts -
The symbols of partition. -
The shadows of ancient grief -
Of martyrdoms and oppression -
Deeply stain their walls.
I was not born here -
But I might as well have been. -
I am at home in a frontier landscape
Where nothing is ever certain.
Trevor John Karsavin Potter.
December 24th. - 25th. - 30th. - 31st. 2014.
Last four lines, January 2nd. 2015.
Belcoo and Enniskillen. For Eithne.
-------------------------------------------------------
2.
O Zone.
The river of love bore you
Laughing
To an early death
May La tour Eiffel never cease
Weeping
Nor your gold winged Christ hit the ground
Happy New Year
Dear Angel
Guillaume Apollinaire
Trevor John Karsavin Potter.
December 24th. - December 31st. 2014.
Christmas Eve - Fermanagh. (First Version).
There are no bright colours here -
The sky - pale as a shroud
Wet from weeping -
The sun - a dim white eye
Half closed among vast clouds.
The bone thin winter trees
Reach up like gnarled hands
Pleading -
Old saints at prayer
With few hopes of salvation. -
A blank horizon pressing down
Onto the ancient landscape -
Unremittingly -
Mocks this fragile sadness -
The pale sun fading
As a thin moon rises.
Cruel escarpments -
Mist sodden mountain walls
Melt like unquiet ghosts. -
Christmas Eve - Fermanagh -
The stillness gathers all unto itself
As evening settles. -
Clouds spread wide like canvas sails
That once drove famine ships.
Awaiting their congregations
The grey stone village churches
Stand like border forts -
The symbols of partition. -
The shadows of ancient grief -
Of martyrdoms and oppression -
Deeply stain their walls.
I was not born here -
But I might as well have been. -
I am at home in a frontier landscape
Where nothing is ever certain.
Trevor John Karsavin Potter.
December 24th. - 25th. - 30th. - 31st. 2014.
Last four lines, January 2nd. 2015.
Belcoo and Enniskillen. For Eithne.
-------------------------------------------------------
2.
O Zone.
The river of love bore you
Laughing
To an early death
May La tour Eiffel never cease
Weeping
Nor your gold winged Christ hit the ground
Happy New Year
Dear Angel
Guillaume Apollinaire
Trevor John Karsavin Potter.
December 24th. - December 31st. 2014.
Tuesday, 16 December 2014
(1) The face of the Virgin. (2) Ghosting. (A Song). (3) A Shared Nightmare.
1.
The face of the Virgin
Your face - pale in the church window -
Pensive among gold angel wings
Spread to shield the derelict stable
From the stiletto thrust of desert winds
Cutting through the cold back streets
Of war stormed Bethlehem.
Your face - neither Arab nor Israeli -
But North Italian - if my guide book is right -
Portrays to perfection the love of Mother Mary
For her boy child - born that violent night -
The shrieks of racists echoing through the city -
The flames of rockets arcing through the sky.
Your face - pale with love that defeats ideology
Shimmering among shadows in a patch of light.
Trevor John Karsavin Potter.
16th. December 2014.
---------------------------------------------------------
2.
Ghosting. (A Song).
over our footsteps
criss-crossing the snow
your shadow drifting
obliterates mine -
black upon blackness -
we fold over the whiteness
a singular darkness
i loved you once -
but your love was unkind -
and now you have left me
dumb and blind
to wander at nights beside you
your hand on my shoulder
you whispering softly -
I turn to hear you
against the storm -
but your voice cannot magic
a path through the white wind
that shatters all calmness
i loved you once -
but your love was unkind -
and now you have left me
dumb and blind
to wander at nights beside you
over our footprints
criss-crossing the snow
your shadow drifting
with infinite deftness
interacts with mine -
two shadows ghosting
in the raw white wind
i loved you once -
but your love was unkind -
and now you have left me
dumb and blind
to wander at nights beside you
Trevor John Karsavin Potter.
First Sketched November 5th. 1978.
Revised November 3rd. 2010 - December 17th. - 18th. 2014.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------
3.
A Shared Nightmare.
Through a glass darkly I dream you
Dream hopes I must forsake
Flecked by sombre shadows
The mist dissolves the lake
I fear that we are drowning
and yet we dare not wake
I reach out to find the mirror
To touch but not to take
Your voice cries out forlornly
Cries out across the lake
Our hands meet in the darkness
A cold dawn starts to break
Your fingers melt like icicles
Melt back into the lake
Through a glass darkly I dream you
Trevor John Karsavin Potter.
December 7th. 1980. - March 14th. 2014.
August 2nd. 2014. - December 18th. 2014.
The face of the Virgin
Your face - pale in the church window -
Pensive among gold angel wings
Spread to shield the derelict stable
From the stiletto thrust of desert winds
Cutting through the cold back streets
Of war stormed Bethlehem.
Your face - neither Arab nor Israeli -
But North Italian - if my guide book is right -
Portrays to perfection the love of Mother Mary
For her boy child - born that violent night -
The shrieks of racists echoing through the city -
The flames of rockets arcing through the sky.
Your face - pale with love that defeats ideology
Shimmering among shadows in a patch of light.
Trevor John Karsavin Potter.
16th. December 2014.
---------------------------------------------------------
2.
Ghosting. (A Song).
over our footsteps
criss-crossing the snow
your shadow drifting
obliterates mine -
black upon blackness -
we fold over the whiteness
a singular darkness
i loved you once -
but your love was unkind -
and now you have left me
dumb and blind
to wander at nights beside you
your hand on my shoulder
you whispering softly -
I turn to hear you
against the storm -
but your voice cannot magic
a path through the white wind
that shatters all calmness
i loved you once -
but your love was unkind -
and now you have left me
dumb and blind
to wander at nights beside you
over our footprints
criss-crossing the snow
your shadow drifting
with infinite deftness
interacts with mine -
two shadows ghosting
in the raw white wind
i loved you once -
but your love was unkind -
and now you have left me
dumb and blind
to wander at nights beside you
Trevor John Karsavin Potter.
First Sketched November 5th. 1978.
Revised November 3rd. 2010 - December 17th. - 18th. 2014.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------
3.
A Shared Nightmare.
Through a glass darkly I dream you
Dream hopes I must forsake
Flecked by sombre shadows
The mist dissolves the lake
I fear that we are drowning
and yet we dare not wake
I reach out to find the mirror
To touch but not to take
Your voice cries out forlornly
Cries out across the lake
Our hands meet in the darkness
A cold dawn starts to break
Your fingers melt like icicles
Melt back into the lake
Through a glass darkly I dream you
Trevor John Karsavin Potter.
December 7th. 1980. - March 14th. 2014.
August 2nd. 2014. - December 18th. 2014.
Monday, 8 December 2014
(1) December 6th. (2) Pavane. (3) The Shortest Day.
1.
December 6th.
Winter comes in without warning.
Children larking on new ice.
The sun laughing between cold clouds.
Trevor John Karsavin Potter.
December 8th. 2014.
-----------------------------------------------
2.
Pavane
Dancing a stately pavane
We rarely touch,
But the heat of your nearby body
Warns me
That civilisation is only skin deep,
Much like that twisted scratch of a smile
That sometimes marks your face
For a moment or two,
Giving hope to the stranger
But frightening away the wary.
Your uncle was very certain that you loved me,
But I am not so sure,
Preferring to keep at a safe distance
As we parade down the centre of the hall
To the strict tempo
Of the courtly music.
Dancing a stately pavane
We rarely touch,
But the paradoxical shifts in your persona
Remain on view
Despite the orderly progress of the music
And the whiteness of the masks.
Trevor John Karsavin Potter.
December 8th. 2014.
-----------------------------------------------------
3.
The Shortest Day.
Winter -
The stone I toss into the pond
Creates no ripples
Even time is frozen
Trevor John Karsavin Potter.
December 11th. 2014.
December 6th.
Winter comes in without warning.
Children larking on new ice.
The sun laughing between cold clouds.
Trevor John Karsavin Potter.
December 8th. 2014.
-----------------------------------------------
2.
Pavane
Dancing a stately pavane
We rarely touch,
But the heat of your nearby body
Warns me
That civilisation is only skin deep,
Much like that twisted scratch of a smile
That sometimes marks your face
For a moment or two,
Giving hope to the stranger
But frightening away the wary.
Your uncle was very certain that you loved me,
But I am not so sure,
Preferring to keep at a safe distance
As we parade down the centre of the hall
To the strict tempo
Of the courtly music.
Dancing a stately pavane
We rarely touch,
But the paradoxical shifts in your persona
Remain on view
Despite the orderly progress of the music
And the whiteness of the masks.
Trevor John Karsavin Potter.
December 8th. 2014.
-----------------------------------------------------
3.
The Shortest Day.
Winter -
The stone I toss into the pond
Creates no ripples
Even time is frozen
Trevor John Karsavin Potter.
December 11th. 2014.
Thursday, 4 December 2014
(1) Faltering Encounter. (2) Japanese Garden. (3) Autumn in the Park. (4) The Parting.
1.
Faltering Encounter.
The moment that you opened the door
Your smile
(A fragile dance of light)
Tripped up the darkness
And laid it flat
Knocking me out in the process
*
No longer a stranger
And recovered from the sudden blow
I noticed that you dared not look at me
When I entered
But your smile was deftly reflected
In the verve of your body
The chirrup of your girlish voice
The tilt of your elegant neck
As you flounced down the hall
Trevor John Karsavin Potter
November 23rd 2014.
July 8th. 2015.
--------------------------------------
2.
Japanese Garden.
It is enough
that a single word
is spoken beautifully
Rock
Tree
Water
Girl
Silence
It is enough
That someone listens
Trevor John Karsavin Potter
April 1964.
December 2nd. 2015.
--------------------------------------
3.
Autumn in the Park
Mist on eyelashes
Fine frost of tears
When we kissed
Trevor John Karsavin Potter
December 4th. 2014.
--------------------------------------
4.
The Parting.
Whispering goodbye
Now we are strangers
Black hair disordered
Eyes deep in shade
The dawn wind stirring
Tugging your sleeve
Trevor John Karsavin Potter
December 4th. - 5th. 2014.
Faltering Encounter.
The moment that you opened the door
Your smile
(A fragile dance of light)
Tripped up the darkness
And laid it flat
Knocking me out in the process
*
No longer a stranger
And recovered from the sudden blow
I noticed that you dared not look at me
When I entered
But your smile was deftly reflected
In the verve of your body
The chirrup of your girlish voice
The tilt of your elegant neck
As you flounced down the hall
Trevor John Karsavin Potter
November 23rd 2014.
July 8th. 2015.
--------------------------------------
2.
Japanese Garden.
It is enough
that a single word
is spoken beautifully
Rock
Tree
Water
Girl
Silence
It is enough
That someone listens
Trevor John Karsavin Potter
April 1964.
December 2nd. 2015.
--------------------------------------
3.
Autumn in the Park
Mist on eyelashes
Fine frost of tears
When we kissed
Trevor John Karsavin Potter
December 4th. 2014.
--------------------------------------
4.
The Parting.
Whispering goodbye
Now we are strangers
Black hair disordered
Eyes deep in shade
The dawn wind stirring
Tugging your sleeve
Trevor John Karsavin Potter
December 4th. - 5th. 2014.
Friday, 21 November 2014
Night Train.
Night Train.
Outside the carriage window
The night has become spectral,
A ghost factory of forensic arc lights
Into which we are locked
While apparently speeding by.
I vainly search for houses, hedgerows, trees,
But the rural scene has been made invisible,
Disappeared behind a dazzling cage
Of hallucinatory razor wire.
I wonder where the stars have vanished to.
The people at the stations that we pass through
Look like stranded outcasts.
They stand upon the platforms in small groups
Staring pensively at flickering monitors,
And rarely interacting with their neighbours.
I dare not visualize what they are thinking,
But not one single passenger seems at ease,
Stood under the clock to await the London train.
The view from the window has become almost intolerable.
I close my eyes and try to think of home,
But can recover nothing to give me comfort.
Prison search lights piercing every secret
Penetrate the sanctuary of my dreaming
With the cruel precision of a surgeon`s scalpel.
The death camp mauer stretches on forever.
Trevor John Karsavin Potter.
November 20th. - 21st. - 27th. - 29th. 2014.
Wednesday, 19 November 2014
(1) Red Table.(Trevor). (2) Triptych, Three Short related Poems. (3) False Dawn.
1.
Red Table. (Trevor)
Suddenly, there on the screen
Was the portrait;
Myself, disguised as a drifter,
A South Bank down and out,
Mournfully contemplating my freebie breakfast
On a February afternoon.
I stood stone still
In the cold grey light
Studying a dessicated double egg and bacon
That the artist had thrown down
On a bright red table cloth
And allowed to rot for a week.
This, however, is not how I would publicize myself
If given half a chance.
I would bin that old string vest for a start,
And wear a more elaborate watch,
Perhaps I would even shave,
Comb my curly locks.
But I had little choice in these matters,
I was down upon my luck
And the artist was forking out some wages
So I had to lump it and like it.
If I had been granted a choice
The medium would have been music
Not paint on canvas,
A symphony perhaps
Or a contemplative string quartet,
To portray my mid life angst,
(My mother had recently died
And the old man was playing me up).
Something by Schnittke maybe?
Something with crashing brass
And sonorous violins,
The occasional vibraphone,
Such a neatly controlled dissonance
Would have best suited my state of mind
And revealed my inner Monk.
Trevor John Karsavin Potter.
October 29th. - November 1st. - 19th. - 27th. 2014.
Recalling modelling for Justin Mortimer at the Slade in 1992.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
2.
Triptych. Three Related Poems.
(1) Untitled.
Well
I do love you
But
(2) Manikin.
Too perfect
To be perfect
Model with a made up mask
Marble white
Polished
Reflecting the setting sun
On the clear surface
Of a curved mirror
Dazzling
The admiring crowd
Of chique onlookers
Too perfect
To be plausible
To be perfect
Ice white
Burnished
Could you be
The hum drum girl
From County Clare
I knew last summer
Nails chewed
Hair uncut
Matted
Face unwashed
Crimped by spots
And scratches
(3) Futurity.
When we kissed
I thought we glimpsed the future,
A smidgen less happy than I had hoped,
But always with you.
Trevor John Karsavin Potter.
November 16th. - 17th. - 18th. 2014.
-----------------------------------------------
3.
False Dawn.
Sunrise
The moon now silver
Just like my hair
Trevor John Karsavin Potter.
November 20th. 2014.
Red Table. (Trevor)
Suddenly, there on the screen
Was the portrait;
Myself, disguised as a drifter,
A South Bank down and out,
Mournfully contemplating my freebie breakfast
On a February afternoon.
I stood stone still
In the cold grey light
Studying a dessicated double egg and bacon
That the artist had thrown down
On a bright red table cloth
And allowed to rot for a week.
This, however, is not how I would publicize myself
If given half a chance.
I would bin that old string vest for a start,
And wear a more elaborate watch,
Perhaps I would even shave,
Comb my curly locks.
But I had little choice in these matters,
I was down upon my luck
And the artist was forking out some wages
So I had to lump it and like it.
If I had been granted a choice
The medium would have been music
Not paint on canvas,
A symphony perhaps
Or a contemplative string quartet,
To portray my mid life angst,
(My mother had recently died
And the old man was playing me up).
Something by Schnittke maybe?
Something with crashing brass
And sonorous violins,
The occasional vibraphone,
Such a neatly controlled dissonance
Would have best suited my state of mind
And revealed my inner Monk.
Trevor John Karsavin Potter.
October 29th. - November 1st. - 19th. - 27th. 2014.
Recalling modelling for Justin Mortimer at the Slade in 1992.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
2.
Triptych. Three Related Poems.
(1) Untitled.
Well
I do love you
But
(2) Manikin.
Too perfect
To be perfect
Model with a made up mask
Marble white
Polished
Reflecting the setting sun
On the clear surface
Of a curved mirror
Dazzling
The admiring crowd
Of chique onlookers
Too perfect
To be plausible
To be perfect
Ice white
Burnished
Could you be
The hum drum girl
From County Clare
I knew last summer
Nails chewed
Hair uncut
Matted
Face unwashed
Crimped by spots
And scratches
(3) Futurity.
When we kissed
I thought we glimpsed the future,
A smidgen less happy than I had hoped,
But always with you.
Trevor John Karsavin Potter.
November 16th. - 17th. - 18th. 2014.
-----------------------------------------------
3.
False Dawn.
Sunrise
The moon now silver
Just like my hair
Trevor John Karsavin Potter.
November 20th. 2014.
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