Monday, 30 December 2019

Wednesday, 25 December 2019

Three Poems Written on Christmas Day.

The Complete Poems of Li Ch`ing - chao.


   This little book of poems in my pocket,
A whole way of life sheltered from the rain;
             Black lines on white pages.



                        Missing You.


Last night when I opened the window to touch the rain,
        Your tears ran down my cheeks, cold and salty,
      As though your face was pressed up close to mine.
        And yet our home was emptied of your laughter
      So long ago                        I cannot count the days.

         Christmas without you is no longer Christmas.
            This little book of poems that you gave me
              Is now a mute reminder of your absence.

                Black lines printed onto fragile pages.

        Streaks of winter rain course down the window.



                           The Simple Gift.


          This little book of poems that you gave me.
                Petals falling like a shower of snow.


Trevor John Karsavin Potter.
25th. December 2019.

Wednesday, 18 December 2019

Tuesday, 17 December 2019

No Looking Back. (Postscript to my Japanese Calendar Sequence).


Farewell my Japanese Calendar.
Farewell my Hokusai prints.
For a year you have delighted me each morning
When I checked my appointments for the day.
You have taken my mind on a long and sinuous journey
Through fields and brooding mountains,
Beside lakes and mysterious rivers,
And across the echoing depths of dream filled seas.
For a year you have taught me a new way of seeing
That has transformed my perspective on the art of daily living.
For a year you have slowly taught me
The clear mindset of Zen.
But now I must put you away, among books in my bedroom library,
A mute but tangible memory of a strange and remarkable year.
And I must continue my day to day journey, each hour melding into
                                                                                                 another,
Until the pictures blur into strangeness,
And the future is simply a word.


Trevor John Karsavin Potter. 
December 17th. 2019.

Sunday, 8 December 2019

Saturday, 7 December 2019

This Year December is Bleaker Than Ever.(Revised).


       The oceans are losing their oxygen.
  Fish are choking - like children on smog.
Before Autumn dawned the red leaves fell.

    Rivulets of hair on a white pillow.
Soto calligraphy that can only be read
           By her attentive lover.

    She drops the newspaper onto the floor.
Gently she drops it - tears smudge her cheeks.
How could she live in this world without him?

His tenderness dances in the black stream of words.
       Only he understands the depths of her grief.
 Only he understands why she weeps this morning.

      "Our unborn children cry out for their lives.
Should we listen to them - or succumb to our fears?"


Trevor John Karsavin Potter.
7th. - 8th. - 13th. December 2019.

Winter Night.