Trevor J Potter's Art: Slava Ukraini. (New Longer Version).

Trevor J Potter's Art: Slava Ukraini. (New Longer Version).: Memories of rural days In Soviet Ukraine Keep bubbling to the surface Of deep dark waters, The lake of slow forgetting. My sister and I work...

Slava Ukraini. (Completed Poem).

Memories of rural days

In Soviet Ukraine

Keep bubbling to the surface

Of deep dark waters,

The lake of slow forgetting.

My sister and I labouring in the fields,

Struggling to keep to quotas,

Our backs red raw from the summer sun,

Our fingers ripped and blistered.

We slept in a hut no bigger than the shed

Where father stored his seeds and garden tools

Back home in North West London.

My home - not hers. / Separated as infants,

Raised apart for some unexplained reasons.

I lived as an only child in post war England, -

Marina far away, close to the Black Sea coast.

She spoke to the farmers

In day to day Ukrainian.

I made do with hand signs,

Plus one or two plain words.

That was long ago, in the days of Comrade Krushchev,

Six months - maybe less, before the Cuban Crises.

Tonight, six decades on, the tanks of Putin`s army

Have been sent in to annihilate Ukraine,

Force this beauteous land to become a Russian fiefdom,

A project only Putin understands.

And tonight, in rain drenched London, I remember Mariupol,

The white apartment blocks close to the city centre

That we drove by in a lorry stacked with grain,

Sweat pouring from our faces in the rag packed oily cab.

We dared not think that Moscow would one day blitz those streets;

Young mothers of lost children screaming out their pain.

Slava Ukraini. Slava Ukraini.

Your golden domes out dazzle 

The early morning sun

With the light of the new fire

That proclaims the resurrection,

Such glory cannot now be overcome.

Trevor John Karsavin Potter.

February 27th. 28th. - March 5th. - 6th. 2022.

 

Trevor J Potter's Art: Sophie. ( Born a century ago today, May 9th. 1921)

Trevor J Potter's Art: Sophie. ( Born a century ago today, May 9th. 1921): I press the key. A face I do not recognise lights up the screen. A girl with candid eyes, High chubby cheeks,                          ...

Trevor J Potter's Art: Sunday February 20th. Squalls and Showers. (New Lo...

Trevor J Potter's Art: Sunday February 20th. Squalls and Showers. (New Lo...: Debris from trashed houses flies high above London, Chip board and cheap tiles buckle like bats wings Under the heft of the wind. Early Spri...

Sunday February 20th. Squalls and Showers. (New Longer Version).

Debris from trashed houses flies high above London,

Chip board and cheap tiles buckle like bats wings

Under the heft of the wind.

Early Spring weather, squalls and showers 

Wrecking swathes of streets and quiet cul de sacs

Easily as a Russian Tank rips through fields of wheat.

Hail stones clattering against my backroom window

Zing their automatic rifle fire,

But not one fragment penetrates the glass.

If I were in the street I would scurry to a doorway

Hood pulled over my head. A refugee in flight

From forces I could never overcome.

But life can be light hearted. Caught in this storm

Our Kerry Blue crouched underneath a hedgerow

When my daughter tried to walk her in the park.

She did not want to imitate a canine cosmonaut

Lifting off through clouds into the roaring dark,

Or to be tossed like a stick into the dogs` Nirvana.

Close to where she crouched, early daffodils flourish,

Tall and straight, laughing silently.

Trevor John Karsavin Potter.

20th. - 22nd.  February 2022.

 

Feeling Nostalgic for the Twentieth Century. (New longer Version)

 

Feeling Nostalgic for the Twentieth Century.

I am feeling nostalgic for the other century I`ve lived in,

The colourful clothes,

The lack of mobile phones.

I am feeling nostalgic for rent of just a few shillings,

For ten bob notes,

For threepenny bits weighing down my jeans,

For cash in hand,

Not virtual pounds the Bank devours each night,

Filching my wealth when I am safely sleeping.

I am feeling nostalgic for hitch hiking for laughs,

For getting a lift from Apex Corner to Leeds

Just because I fancy a trip along the A One.

The last time I stopped a car was in Baden Baden,

But that was because the bus broke down that day.

I am feeling nostalgic

For making love at first sight,

Not waiting - waiting - waiting until the time seems right

Close to the hundred and thirty third dinner date.

I am feeling nostalgic for the freedoms I once had,

The freedom to roam across international borders

Without buying a visa or having my passport stamped.

I am feeling nostalgic for setting up home with a partner

Who is not a native of the country I happen to live in. 

I want back those days before carnivore Banks and Brexit

Hemmed in my well earned time and hard won spaces

For illicit commercial reasons.

I am feeling the need for taking some random chances,

Before there are no choices left to make.

Trevor John Karsavin Potter, 

17th. - 18th. - 21st.- 24th. February 2022.  

Saturday afternoon Zen, Listening to Pulcinella. (Revised).

Unwilling to trash the mood made by gentle music

Now playing on my radio

I do not pick up the telephone when it rings.

Living alone in lockdown I find I have new choices,

I do not have to answer every question on the dot,

I have reached a point of equilibrium,

The still centre of a lifetime, perhaps a new way of being.

I might be on a mountain top looking at the sunset,

The wild ox I hunted, caught and deftly saddled

Reclining at my bare feet, but of course I am not.

Everything I need for happiness is hidden deep within me.

Even Stravinsky`s music seems a part of who I am,

Or just now I thought so, before I switched to OFF.

At sundown I cherish silence, but I`ve never quite known why.

After a while I turn the radio back on.

An early Beatles classic makes the day seem real once more.

Trevor John Karsavin Potter. 

February 12th. 2022.