Trevor J Potter's Art: Beneath the Ice. (Revised).

Trevor J Potter's Art: Beneath the Ice. (Revised).: A small hole in a frozen pond. The moon shining through still water. Two golden carp chasing a circle, Piscine adolescents, enthralled w...

Beneath the Ice. (Revised Version).

A small hole in a frozen mirror.
The moon shining through still water.
Two golden carp chasing a circle,
Piscine adolescents, enthralled with each other,
Afraid to turn on a pivot and meet.

According to ancient Buddhist literature,
Children seek out parents before conception
Whilst they wait in the shadows, at rest between lives.

The Ancients took such knowledge for granted,
Science to them was just pulleys and wheels
And hammers to break the ice in mid winter.

Love, on the other hand, is akin to religion,
An instinct more powerful than logical thinking,
A moment of empathy that can create a new world.

Meantime I stand alone in this midnight garden
Picturing, for some reason, a sacred lotus
Rising to the surface of an Indian lake, then
Too quickly falling away.

The pond in this garden is shining like metal.
No lotus could grace the cold misty surface.
Last night a bird fell like a stone,
Feathers locked in shards of ice.

A small dark hole in a frozen mirror.
Impassive moon glinting through still water.
Two golden carp chasing a circle
Because only they exist in their world..


Trevor John Karsavin Potter.
January 16th. - 17th. - 18th. 2017.
October 10th. - 18th. 2017.
April 17th. 2018.

Trevor J Potter's Art: Beatrice & Benedick, Premonition of a Winter Weddi...

Trevor J Potter's Art: Beatrice & Benedick, Premonition of a Winter Weddi...: Lady disdain Under the rim of your hat your eyes sparkled Reminiscent of dancing fireflies. You had not heard a single word of the serm...

Trevor J Potter's Art: (1) In the British Museum.(Revised) (2) The Stone...

Trevor J Potter's Art: (1) In the British Museum.(Revised) (2) The Stone...:                         1     In the British Museum. Blue and white ceramics, Small moments of absolute quietness In a room packed wi...

Waiting for Inspiration.

Waking on the wrong side of the mirror, lost
for words,
whole paragraphs dropping from my bedside
                                                         note pads
like dead flies,
their wings deceitfully swaddled by the spider
in a cocoon of lies;
I wave my pen at the fading stars
and wait for inspiration to float down,
a smoke stunned moth descending from the light,
a mosquito drilling deep inside my ear.

Perhaps tonight a new poem will come to life,
transferred on silent wings out of the dark
into my dog tired mind.
A message from the right side of the mirror
that I must transcribe quickly on my pad
before the words take flight out of my head.

Suddenly the mirror cracks and I fall through
a jagged chasm into the Ikea world
that I customarily inhabit.
"Oh well, another weird distorted dream",
I mutter to myself as I lie flat
watching the morning sunlight pink the ceiling.

I notice high up in a dusty corner
a Daddy Longlegs tip toeing upside down
ill at ease, toward her destination
in some small crack or fissure out of sight.
Perhaps last night that insect crossed my bed,
stepped lightly on my eyelids while I slept,
not waking me, but tap tapping through my brain
messages from a place I do not know.

I struggle cursing out of bed.
Pick up my mug of water, take a gulp,
then notice scattered on the bedroom floor
rough notes for this poem.


Trevor John Karsavin Potter.
January 12th. - 14th. 2017.
Our dreams and waking world interact more closely than we think.

Chinese Box.(Two Poems).

      Chinese Box. No.1.


No sun. No moon.
A temple carved from soft wood.
Two white herons on the water.
Black sky. Black stream.


                    *

      Chinese Box No.2.


Like an old monk praying
The branches of this cherry tree,
So delicately crafted by knife
                               and chisel,
Bend over the black expanse
                                of the lake
In an awkward gesture of adoration.


Meanwhile a pas de deux of
                               white herons
Poised mid hunt on the polished
                                        water
Seems to imply that even here,
In this monochrome miniature
Of a Chinese garden,
That the raw edge of life still stabs
                                   and butchers
                        Beneath the artifice
                            of the ebony lake.


The cherry tree is gnarled and ancient
 But will never lose a single blossom.


The island temple is shaped like a lantern
But has never shone a ray of light.


Trevor John Karsavin Potter.
January 9th. - 10th. - October 8th. 2017.
April 18th. 2018.

Trevor J Potter's Art: Pas de Deux. (New Version).

Trevor J Potter's Art: Pas de Deux. (New Version).: Gentle - soft - voice. Swans on the wing under the moon. I put down the receiver, turn off the light, set the alarm for 7am. Waitin...