Trevor J Potter's Art: Rainbows and a Nightingale. (New Ending).

Trevor J Potter's Art: Rainbows and a Nightingale. (New Ending).:       Rainbows and a Nightingale. (Summer 1967 Recalled). Although it is just passed midsummer, Wednesday the 1st. of July 2020, The ev...

Soft October Rain.

 The rain dances on my skin.

Lute strings imitate drum riffs

Tapped out on pavement and Birch trees.

Lute strings dissolving in tears

When they touch the earth.

The world is an intimate orchestra

To which we all belong,

To which we all add momentary key

                                             changes.

Lute strings - cool and delicate - dance

                                 against my skin,

Muted strings tap tapping out soft rhythms

Before the sun strikes through

                         the timpani of clouds.

There is a gentle solace in the fall of rain,

In the soft coolness of moisture on skin.

When the sun strikes through

                        harmony breaks apart.

Trevor John Karsavin Potter.

October 2nd. - 3rd. 2020.

(1) A Moment of Understanding. (2) Hydrangea.

A Moment of Understanding.

 The Buddha Nature within me

and

The Christ nature within me

Are the Holy Spirit

Are One and the Same.

Together they teach me Compassion.

Together they lead to Nirvana.

This has been so since my birth.

This has been so since before then.

Buddha within me -

Buddha before me -

Buddha beneath me -

Buddha above me.

Saint Patrick on the wind swept mountain

Saw what Bodhidharma knew.

Christ within me -

Christ before me -

Christ beneath me -

Christ above me.

Only the words are distinct - are different.

Only the words are a problem.

Trevor John Karsavin Potter.

29th. September 2020.

         Hydrangea.

These flowers are no longer soft,

They have the texture of brown paper,

As rough to the skin as late October winds.

 Trevor John Karsavin Potter. 

29th. September 2020.

Trevor J Potter's Art: (1) Listening to Scriabin.(Completed Poem) (2) The...

Trevor J Potter's Art: (1) Listening to Scriabin.(Completed Poem) (2) The...: Listening to Scriabin. (Completed Poem). Burdened with sound The air becomes dark, like the depths of the ocean; Slow waves moving over...

The Discarded Photograph.(Completed Poem).

When, by chance, I picked up the photograph,

I thought I had picked up a portrait of you

Laughing by the seaside, but private, as you

                                                        always are,

Flowers in your hair band, a Russian novel 

                                     balanced on one knee. 

The tent was quite familiar - quite your style -  

An old Welsh blanket hoisted on four sticks -

Hoisted loosely between the breast shaped

                                                     sand dunes

To make a snug, a private little squat

To be secreted in.

I really thought this portrait was of you,

The ink black birthmark printed on the cheekbone; 

Fine blue eyes under lacquered lashes;

Gilded hair cascading over shoulders;

A platinum wedding ring.

Every detail brought you clearly to my mind,

The scent of you, the touch of you; your young

                                                 half naked body

Curled up on the settee next to mine.

But then I noticed the photo had been tinted,

The dye applied with great care by an artist

Expert in the craft;

An artist who plied this craft from time to 

                                                               time

To put a few half crowns in empty jam jars. -

I slide the picture back where I had found it,

Lodged between two novels,

Two pre-war novels, left out, I hope by chance,

Among discarded beer cans and pizza packs,

Left out to rot upon the churchyard wall. -

You say I was meant to find this pile of books,

But I dispute this; I had not passed the church 

                                              for several weeks,

And I rarely stop to pick through unloved things,

Not even hardback books once sold in Woolworth

To young ladies of my mother`s generation.

But I am glad I found this photo, although I dare

                                                             not keep it;

I do not own her past, so I must let her go.

Trevor John Karsavin Potter.

July 23rd. - 26th. - September 24th. 2020.

December 12th. 2020. - October 9th. 2022.

Trevor J Potter's Art: (1) Washed Out by Rain. (Revised & Completed) (2) ...

Trevor J Potter's Art: (1) Washed Out by Rain. (Revised & Completed) (2) ...:                         1 .    Washed Out by Rain. The world is silver grey. Wall paper world. The rain falling steadily, Washing ou...

Satori in the Time of Covid. (Revised)

 A sudden moment of inexplicable joy,

The sky white with light on a cold dull day.

Sad Rooks, vagabonds hunched in skeletal

                                                     trees,

Fretfully cawing:

Shoppers hooded, leaning forward into the

                                                     wind

Unaware of the strange beauty of the sky.

The sudden white light illuminating clouds

Fat with ice crystals.

Ice is grey and black when trapped in clouds.

Sackcloth clouds have dragged in a phoney

                                                  winter,

Three long weeks before the autumn equinox

Roughs up city squares, brown fields and red

                                        brick houses

With a thief`s impunity.

The thief that sneaked in through the hall and

                                                 kitchen

then cleared off fast with my phone and

                                                camera

comes painfully to mind.

My next door neighbour had left the back gate

                                                    open.

My next door neighbour has plenty to answer for.

So how come this short lived moment of real joy?

This shattering joy, inexplicable and astonishing!

The clouds aglow as though lit up by fireflies.

The garden incandescent with red roses.

The morning air quite still, dream heavy, free

                                   of diesel fumes.

Time weighed down with silence - my heart beats

                                     loud and clear.

How come this interaction with Satori?

How come such peace in this year of

                                                   Covid?

When I think things through I cannot find an answer,

I`ll just hunker down and get on with my day.

Trevor John Karsavin Potter. 

September 7th. - 16th. - October 11th. 2020.