Stormy March Night.

 

Simplified Forms Clarified.

 

Buddhist Spring Garden, Pink on Green.The tangle of the West Meets the Simplicity of the East.

 

Spring Morning.

 

Zoe.(Revised Poem).

 Yellow and white are my sacred colours.

We made love for the first time

Among the Easter daffodils

By the cold grey lake.-

Unconcerened by our adolescent intensity

Mute swans drifted by like regal saints.

Our last hugs came forty plus years later,

This time indoors, in a half completed building,

The Kilburn traffic shaking doors and windows.

The intensity was the same,

But more acute with terror and raw regret,

The past calling us back to where we could not go.

A zig zag surgical scar

Wrecked your perfect body

When you would have preferred to drift into Nirvana

Early rather than late.

You had once introduced me to a Hindu goddess,

Perhaps she was now whispering in your mind.

This time there was no talk of swans and daffodils,

No ducking low when the park keeper walked by

His rubber torch flashing like a fog bound Lighthouse.

Instead you gave me a pot of natural honey

And a cactus that quickly died.

I suppose we were married in a quirky sort of way,

We had never lived together

But were never really apart.

The excuse was that we were both too independent,

But our first nervous kiss prefaced a different story.

April whites and yellows remain my sacred colours,

Please Don`t dig up the lake side

To replace them with blues and mauves.

Trevor John Karsavin Potter, 

12th.-14th. March 2024.

Colour is Everything.

 

Chaos Mandala.