Friday, 9 December 2022
Thursday, 1 December 2022
Aztec Fish.
Retrieved from a block of clay
An unknown fish,
Extinct, or simply unobserved
By Mexican scientists who search
The blacked out depths
Of the deepest pits in the Atlantic.
Perhaps it was born the colour of the red earth
And was promoted to godhood by the Aztecs
Because of this weirdness,
Or perhaps not.
All that can be said for certain
Is that this is a very odd fish.
And will not be found laid out with the salmon in Harrods
Anytime soon.
Trevor Jon Karsavin Potter.
1st. December 2022.
Wednesday, 30 November 2022
Trevor J Potter's Art: (1) Chinese Porcelain. (New Version). (2) On The D...
Trevor J Potter's Art: (1) Chinese Porcelain. (New Version). (2) On The D...: 1 . Chinese Porcelain. Reflected in the mirror behind us As we set up another selfie, The collection of earthe...
Tuesday, 29 November 2022
Trevor J Potter's Art: Red Bird. (Revised).
Trevor J Potter's Art: Red Bird. (Revised).: My poems are pictures painted with words, and not true poems. For example - Aware of the intensity of sunlight as July approaches I rejoice...
Adapted Surfaces.
When I was a child and adolescent in England in the nineteen fifties and early sixties, abstract art was taboo. So called modern artists were mocked by cartoonists in the tabloids, especially Picasso who had had the temerity of discovering cubism three decades before I was born. Unbelievable as it may now seem I read a news magazine article attacking Cezanne when I was in my late teens or early twenties. I felt an outsider at that time because I loved progressive art. I had met a number of progressive artists , including Picasso, before I was twenty, and knew that I was with them and not the tabloid fuddy duddies. But the old prejudice against modern art has scarred me, and when I rub and scrape raw paint into a rough wooden surface I sometimes suffer a pang of guilt because I am not painting a sweet landscape or making a detailed sketch. Sorry conscience, I paint what I paint because I love doing it my way; and the same rules apply to how I write my poems. Get over it.
A Mid Winters Night`s Dream. (Revised).
Melancholy conifers command the ridge,
Four weeping queens crying out to Theseus,
"Our husbands lie unburied.
Ravens crowd out the sun".
Four hooded queens, bruise black their dresses
Torn and bloody, trailing in the mire
As they shriek and holla for justice to proud Theseus
When he rides out to his wedding.
Then after the first act the queens depart,
Their wrongs righted,
Their wealth restored,
Their husbands buried deep in homeland clay,
Their enemies routed,
And Theseus, having fought the good fight for them,
Can once more ride out to wed Hippolyta.
And for the next two hours the honest jailers daughter
Goes mad with love for Palamon,
An escaped prisoner in love with Emilea.
He had fought for Creon against the wily Theseus
In the war of the unburied kings.
And the audience is all agog at the jailers daughter,
Forgetting the weeping queens, who started the story
That led to her imagined romance.
I have forgotten to mention Arcite`
And his fall from the bucking horse.
Its the jailers daughter whose candle we tend to carry.
We picture her in our local spilling pints of sadness,
Her voice so loud it blocks all conversation,
But tonight, for some reason, these ageing conifers,
Bent double by the push and pull of the weather,
Remind me that the queens requests for justice
Created yet another pile of corpses.
Trevor John Karsavin Potter.
28th. November 2022.
A brief synopsis of The Two Noble Kinsmen - plus the conifers.
Thursday, 24 November 2022
Riposte. Song in my Old Style. (Completed Version)
Oh my Josey Blue
You just don`t get being true
So how can I settle with you?
Oh my Josey Blue.
Oh my Lady Blue
You know that one and one make two
But think that six from two will do,
Oh my Lady Blue.
Oh my Josey Blue
What I hear aint what you do
So how can I be square with you?
Just what`s the deal? I thought you knew.
Oh my Josey Blue,
Just can`t say, "I cherish you".
Trevor John Kaesavin Potter.
24th. November 2022.
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