Wednesday, 31 January 2024

An Old Artist Hopes His Life Has Meaning.


 We have crossed the border,
Crossed from January into February,
And soon it shall be March.

Now that I have passed eighty
I seldom go out in winter,
I have always hated the cold
And now I fear the dark.

Since lockdown I have spent the long hours painting,
Or writing poems more intimate and honest
Than I dared attempt when young. 

Now I am old, like Buddha, I live in the moment,
And yet I still dream daily about the future.

I hope that when I no longer  can paint or write,
Friends and family will save my poems and pictures.


Trevor John Karsavin Potter, 
1st. February 2024.

Written after watching a TV programme about Du Fu.

Trevor J Potter's Art: The Brown Paper Bag. (Revised).

Trevor J Potter's Art: The Brown Paper Bag. (Revised).: This envelope is so beautiful                           I do not want to open it, Brown paper the colour of fallen leaves. This envelope is ...

The Brown Paper Envelope. (Revised).

This envelope is so beautiful
                          I do not want to open it,
Brown paper the colour of fallen leaves.

This envelope is perhaps a flower,
An autumn bloom pierced with shards of light ;
An unread book,
            The poems of Thich Nhat Hahn.

This envelope is not a leaf,
And yet one day it may become one;
A single page danced upon by words.

Trevor John Karsavin Potter, 
31st. January 2024. 

Winter Night.