Tuesday 3 May 2022

Trevor J Potter's Art: Alma.of Sarajevo.

Trevor J Potter's Art: Alma.of Sarajevo.: The most beautiful smile in the world- The smile of a pregnant woman, Shy, ecstatic, playful; The roses pressed to her heart Bereft of t...

Friday 29 April 2022

Wednesday 27 April 2022

Birthday.(Completed Version).

Today is my birthday, 
The commencement of my New Year;
April twenty seventh nineteen forty three,
The only true Year Zero;
"In the beginning God" - simply a metaphor?

I burn some incense.
Grey smoke, slowly rising, fills this small room
Until every corner is hazy,
Concealed in the fug of a dream.
Dreams fade quickly, just like a dampened fire.

I whisper my fears to the face that haunts the mirror
But expect no urgent reply.
The mirror can only show Now, never tomorrow,
The past is also omitted from its remit.
This mirror is just too honest. I name it an enemy.

Today is my birthday,
The day in which I recall what I cannot recall,
My first encounter with heat and cold and light.
"In the beginning God", but then I did not know that.
The future was also a blank, the past already redundant.

I glance at the clock. Midnight. Time shows no mercy,
My birthday already over. I turn off the kitchen light.
It is now too dark to wish "good night" to the mirror.
God parting the dark from light claimed all was good. 
Perhaps I don`t disagree.


Trevor John Karsavin Potter.
April 27th. - 28th. 2022.
This poem came to me at 11 pm. and I finished the first version at 3 am. My computer is in the kitchen and I wrote straight onto my Blog page. I rarely do this because poems take time and can go through several revisions and transformations. It is like druiving a fast car in the dark.

Saturday 23 April 2022

Trevor J Potter's Art: September Poem. (Completed Version).

Trevor J Potter's Art: September Poem. (Completed Version).:                            She loved me                                                  and in September She wore the curling leaves in...

Friday 22 April 2022

Tulip.

 A tulip in bloom is shaped like many things,
Both sacred and profane - sunlit or moon dark -
A woman`s breast - her vulva - her loving kiss -
A gilded cup emptied of blood red wine -
Two hands cupped together to receive a gift -
A gift of chicks new born - a gift of life and death -
The whole of life expressed in one small bloom
That rarely lasts more than a single week.
All that we are expressed in this small flower -
A single blaze of joy, then all,  yes all is lost. 
A tulip in a vase is a poor sad thing,
But a garden full of tulips can make a dumb child sing.


Trevor John Karsavin Potter,
22nd. April 2022.

Thursday 21 April 2022

Impressions of Two Easter Sundays a Year Apart.(Completed Poem).

2021.

Emptied communion cups dropped on the ground;
My garden tulips fade as the dawn breeze quickens,
Their petals opening out, about to fall,
Spilled like lost words, heavy with time and failed memories,
Dying yet nurturing a future still buried,
Next year in embryo.


2022.

Bulbs forcing pale shoots out into the light;
Communion cups transformed from green to bright gold,
New blossoms flourishing - a new era made manifest,
The air rich with the scents of wine and honey, the tang of
                                                                      baked Matzah; 
That which we thought dead now dazzles our senses.

Ancient prayers made true as we sing them this Easter,
The cries of an infant intermingling with them.
Old ways, long neglected, making new once more.


Trevor John Karsavin Potter.
21st. April 2022.
Written after studying the poem "Holy Communion" by George Herbert.

Saturday 16 April 2022