The Rocking Horse Moon

Peach coloured waning moon

Rocking horse ridden through deep deep space 

Only the rockers illuminated

Only the peach coloured rockers glisten

The black muzzled horse and the black cloaked rider

Invisible to my half blind eye

As I track the trajectory of the moon

Through antiquated opera glasses

There is no Man in the Moon I mutter

There is no horse on peach coloured rockers

But the child in my dreams is weeping rose petals

The child in my dreams is too sad to weep tears

Meanwhile the moon slowly wanes to a sliver

Beneath the bridle of the black cloaked rider

Trevor John Karsavin Potter

August 12th. 2020.

This may or may not be a childrens poem.

Trevor J Potter's Art: The One Tun, Part Eight. New Rewritten Version.

Trevor J Potter's Art: The One Tun, Part Eight. New Rewritten Version.: Devon blue. The sunlight frisking flecks of dazzle across the waves. Torbay placid, the yachts gently bobbing, Moses Cradles resting on the ...

Trevor J Potter's Art: The One Tun, Part Three.

Trevor J Potter's Art: The One Tun, Part Three.: The pub was from time to time visited by a Gypsy girl, a black haired beauty I once nearly married. I shall name her Jill, her Roma name is ...

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Trevor J Potter's Art: Music is the Heart of Sorrow.: No my friend, Your guitar is just too raucous for                                such moments, Cutting through the silence of the      ...

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Trevor J Potter's Art: Four Poems (1) Californian Buddhist Wedding. (2) ...:                         1. Californian Buddhist Wedding. (Revised Version). The cicadas in the distant gardens presaged heat. In thos...

Lock down Lyrics.

No more are people flesh and blood,

Skin and bone,

They are a shout through the letter box,

A whisper down the telephone.

A friend is a face on the lap top screen.

My love is a phantom in my bed when

                                                  I dream.

Masked strangers pass my window by

But seldom look me in the eye,

They concentrate long empty stares

At the gutter or the sky,

And so like bandits in a film

They silently pass by;

A silent film I witnessed, in the flea pit, long

                                                                   ago,

My lover nestled in my arms as we snogged

                                                in the back row.

But now, because of covid,

We are those spectres on the screen

Projected through a camera lens,

The cameraman unseen.

No more are people flesh and blood,

Skin and bone,

Afraid of life we skulk indoors,

And haunt the telephone.

Trevor John Karsavin Potter.

August 5th. 2020.

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