Trevor J Potter's Art: Fernweh. (New Revision).

Trevor J Potter's Art: Fernweh. (New Revision).: I have never yet found my true home, I have always only been                                        "on Location", A displaced...

The Runaway Lovers. (From the Chinese).

You are the perfect mirror
Reflecting the cool blue skies of morning,
The clouds a distant memory.

Your smile is happiness without a flaw,
The simple gift that you give to me,
The perfect gift that you give to me,
And you have asked for little in return,

Only that I am patient with you always,
And never give in to bouts of anger,
Only that I am beside you when you awake,
Only that I am close beside you always.

In the cool blue light of early morning,
Reflecting my face reflecting yours,
You are the perfect mirror.


Trevor John Karsavin Potter.
16th. - 17th. January 2020.
For Ivy who will understand perfectly.

Although influenced by the translations of the poems of Li Ching - chao by Kenneth Rexroth,this poem is completely mine except for the imagery of the mirror reflecting the sky, which refers to a description of Lo Kuang by General Wei Kuang, but I have used the imagery completely in my own way, and moreover, I am referring to a young woman deeply in love. The couple in the poem were inspired by the lovers in the story created from the imagery depicted on the classic Willow Pattern plates.

England in Extremis.

I have no true home now,
My country has become a laughing stock in Europe,
So I hide my head in shame,
Not wishing to be seen as part of the farce performed
By clownish politicians
In my name.

I do not applaud the antics of red nosed old Etonians
Who would pay half a million
To hear a clock go BONG,
While thousands die unnoticed of malnutrition
And integrity is sold down the river
For a song.

Leaving Europe is not Dunkirk, it is the retreat from Kabul
When there was only one survivor, a starving man astride a mule.


Trevor John Karsavin Potter.
December 15th. - 16th. 2019.

Trevor J Potter's Art: Two Poems (1) West Country Woman. A Song. (2) The ...

Trevor J Potter's Art: Two Poems (1) West Country Woman. A Song. (2) The ...:                 1 West Country Woman. West Country Woman, Hair wilder than moorland bracken, Face redder than solstice fire; I will ...

Trevor J Potter's Art: (1) Chinese New Year. (Revised Longer Version). (2...

Trevor J Potter's Art: (1) Chinese New Year. (Revised Longer Version). (2...:                Chinese New Year. Plum blossom fragrant with hope. A Swift darts upward into the silk grey sky, A flurry of movements f...

(1) Chinese New Year. (Completed Poem). (2) The Hoarder.

               Chinese New Year.


Plum blossom fragrant with hope.
A Swift darts upward into the silk grey sky,

A flurry of movements frozen in time
No quicker than the skipping of one heart beat.

The skill of the artist has tricked my eyes
To perceive in stillness the essence of speed,

And beyond this moment nothing more is visible,
I assume that tomorrow is not just a dream.


How strange that an artist can create such stillness
With the dancing movements of pencil or brush,

A stillness so vibrant with living vitality
That the painting has become the event it depicts.

The family photos packed into my album
Are smoked glass shadows compared to this.


Trevor  John Karsavin Potter.
January 1st. - 4th. - 9th. 2020.
Derived From the illustration for January on my Chinese Wall Calendar.


                  The Hoarder.


I bought this incense forty years ago;
When I light the sticks they are gone in
                                      five minutes
Leaving a pile of ash.


Trevor John Karsavin Potter.
January 1st. 2019.

A Pattern of Veils. (Revised).

Soft delicate colours.

December rain drifting through greenery.

Droplets glistening on your skin
Reflect the bright face of the moon
Observed floating above a sheen of clouds.
Faults in the glass distort the imagery,
Trees and houses outside our bedroom window
Could be the fleeting shadows of an underwater city.

I am sure of few things, sometimes only your smile,

The touch of your hand in the silvery dark.

                                *

I wake up with a start,
You are not here beside me.

I walk from room to room in a somnambulist daze.
The coats are all dusty. The hats have turned grey on the hangers.

You are nowhere to be found.

I was sure you were with me all through the frosty night:

I can still feel the warmth of you hair on my face and my fingers;
Remember the light in your eyes when we made love.

                                 *

Soft, delicate colours.

December rain drifting through greenery.

I walk out into the garden to look for the last of the roses.

In a month or two you should be back here with me,
(Your aunt has informed me you have a date on your calendar.
Your passport in order. Your freedom to travel permitted).
But this endless waiting distorts time. The kitchen clock ticks slowly.
It is only five years, but it feels more like one hundred.

The morning rain cold on my bare skin.
The wind is stinging my cheek bone.

I turn to the north and shout out loud your name.

This garden is dappled with a patina of memories.


Trevor John Karsavin Potter.
Sketched 14th. - 29th. August 2018.
Reimagined and completed 30th. December 2019.
For Ivy, dreaming of a happy and settled New Year