A Dutch Interior. (Revised)

 Summer is for painting,

Winter is for poetry,

Sitting by the window to try to catch the light.

In winter I dream people in simple black and white.

In August I dream people in all their summer beauty.

December is so grey bright colours just seem false.

Winter is for intellect,

Summer for emotion,

Love burns low when the sun is clouded out of sight.

But there is a sort of wistfulness in the finest poetry,

Tranquility few painters can find ways to express

Except perhaps Vermeer contemplating loneliness, -

Two people in a spacious room

Almost at ease together

Trevor John Karsavin Potter,

8th. January 2022. - November 8th. 2023.

Trevor J Potter's Art: Sleeping Beauty in Barnet. - A Story for Twelth Ni...

Trevor J Potter's Art: Sleeping Beauty in Barnet. - A Story for Twelfth Ni...: The Edwardian villa across from my semi Slowly decays behind a hedge of thorns. Perhaps a sad princess has pricked her finger And awaits Pri...

New years Eve, Looking, Not Seeing. (Revised & Completed).

 I look into the mirror,

My old face stares back at me

Mocking who I think I am;

Yet the boy I was still haunts my hopes

Swimming wildly out to sea,

Then reluctantly returning.

Through my heart dark clouds are drifting,

But a single rose still blooms tonight

In the chill depths of my garden.

I rarely go out into the garden,

Its like a foreign country to me;

I no longer understand who I think I am.

Trevor John Karsavin Potter.

31st. December 2021. - 14th. January 2022.

Trevor J Potter's Art: Rapunzel Reads the I Ching. (Completely new Version).

Trevor J Potter's Art: Rapunzel Reads the I Ching. (Completely new Version).: Rather like a child sitting on the river bank Watching the ripples form, That girl who threw a fistful of square white stones Every morning ...

Rapunzel Reads the I Ching.

That girl who threw a fistful of square white stones

Every morning early

To read the I Ching before her aunt awoke,

Demanding toast with honey as she checked the morning headlines.

Demanding a weekly Beano sent up on a silver platter.

When did she last throw that handful of old stones,

And what pattern did they make where they fell

On the threadbare carpet in her small bedroom?

Did they prophecy love or a sudden early demise?

It seems she abruptly ceased to socialize,

Keeping the one door locked - pulling down the blinds -

Living off junk food delivered after dark

By a strange stooped man with a limp and a single eye,

A sort of Rumplestiltskin lookalike

Who spied for her aunt while serving up the pies.

The aunt, some say, eats little girls and boys,

That`s why Rapunzel had bolted all the doors.

It is said each night she let her hair hang down

In golden shreds out of her first floor window

To be climbed by a lover smart enough for the task.

A teen aged princeling? - A Rock God in pink loafers? -

A roofer light on his feet?

But I treat these tales as hearsay, ridiculous tittle - tattle,

Fake news that has tumbled twice around the stars

Before burning up attempting a clean reentry.

The rumour is that she has had a baby,

A big plump boy with lots of golden curls

And a cheeky smile wide as the Firth of Forth.

Single mums are not uncommon in her family. -

But her lesbian aunt would certainly not approve,

That is if Rumplestiltskin spilled the beans.

And now I hear she has scarpered from the tower,

Run off with her lover, whoever he might be,

Deep into the forest late at night.

What is certain is that her aunt was taken into custody

A day or two back. Something about the contents of her pies

And the lifelike appearance of her gingerbread men.

Also a bag full of golden hair was found in the kitchen,

Alongside a babies rattle and a pair of pink loafers.

And it turns out that Rumplestiltskin was working for the Yard.

And so we now must await the court appearance

To discover who told the truth,- and who told lies. 

Trevor John Karsavin Potter. 23rd. -  30th. December 2021.- May 28th. 2024.

Solstice Nativity.(Newly Completed Version).

The daylight is too subtle at this time of year.

I prefer bright colours -  Odilon Redon on speed

Cutting to the heart of the matter

With the prism blade of his art.

Jesus is the god of sunlight,

He exists in the colours of the rainbow - the song of the Lark

Soaring into an intensity of blue

That almost blinds us as we look due east.

The Wise Men came from the east,

Following a star to find a child in a stable - a baby in rags

Sleeping among horses and cattle,

An innocent among the most innocent of creatures,

A small bundle of love and rainbow light

Born without language, just a scream of pain

When he cries to his mother out of the depths of hunger

In the cruel dark chill of winter.

Trevor John Karsavin Potter.

16th. December 2021. 

9th. January 2022.

Trevor J Potter's Art: Kernow. (Corrected Poem).

Trevor J Potter's Art: Kernow. (Corrected Poem).: Away too long But Cornwall now forgives my years of absence, Welcomes me back to trek her cliffs and moors, But bars my entrance into hig...