The Gift of Music. (Completed Version).

I played the recorder,
People laughed,
They said the electric plank was the only thing,
Rock n Roll would dominate the future.
But the recorder is a beautiful instrument,
A pipe that rings like dulcet bells
Softly echoing through ancient hallways,
Or Skylarks and Swallows on Midsummers Eve
Greeting the sun with mellifluous voices
From the shelter of my garden.

When I found I loved you
I gave you my recorder,
It lay in your hands more easily than in mine,
And your blue eyes laughed when you began to blow,
Shape in the air your elegant dances.
Being a Gypsy you are a gifted player.
The whole house filled with the scent of roses,
The deep south sweetness of new picked oranges,
The rumpus of children in their room upstairs,
Your music is ancient and wild and delightful.

At night in my arms the silence claims you,
But deep in the silence I hear your songs,

Songs without words that would have slept in the shadows
If I had not given to you my prized recorder.

And Rock n Roll? It is an old mans thing.
It seems so distant from who we are.


Trevor John Karsavin Potter.
May 28th. 2019. 

Trevor J Potter's Art: Under the Bridge, Poems 1 - 2 - 3 & 4. Illustratio...

Trevor J Potter's Art: Under the Bridge, Poems 1 - 2 - 3 & 4. Illustratio...:       Under the Bridge, Poem 1. Under the curved bow of this bridge The river, a placid mirror Reflecting nothing. The fisherman, cas...

Trevor J Potter's Art: Short Poem About Bees. (Revised).

Trevor J Potter's Art: Short Poem About Bees. (Revised).: I keep a nest of bees under my bonnet, Where they reside, restricted and yet free, Safe as houses, long miles from fields of wheat Soake...

The Broken Sanctuary. (Revised).

We did not expect to find these pictures on our computer.
Now we understand how cruel pornography is.
It is the clawing of the sacramental out of the human
And thus transforming the naive, the quietly innocent
Into a cheap commodity,
Something to be sold on line.
A kiss in the dark is merely a kiss in the dark
When viewed from this perspective,
And the long happy hours that we secretly spent together
Changed into a peep show by a sly, self righteous photographer
Peering in through our window, Leica pressed to his nose.
He can only see what the digital camera sees,
He can noway perceive the mystery, the tenderness of this love
Between such very different, and diffident, lonely people
Born decades apart, and in two antagonistic cultures
That so rarely come together,
The Roma and the city dweller.
All he can see is a man and a dark haired woman,
Her bridal gown neatly laid out on the table,
Their naked bodies entwined on the hotel bed.
We did not expect to find these pictures on our computer.
We cried for days when we first caught sight of them.
But the truth that we own cannot be found in hazy photos,
So we take life as it comes, and try very hard to forgive.


Trevor John Karsavin Potter.
May 20th. - 21st. 2019.
Partly inspired by various modern takes on Petrarch.

Trevor J Potter's Art: Under the Bridge, Poems 1 - 2 & 3. Illustration fo...

Trevor J Potter's Art: Under the Bridge, Poems 1 - 2 & 3. Illustration fo...:       Under the Bridge, Poem 1. Under the curved bow of this bridge The river, a placid mirror Reflecting nothing. The fisherman, cas...

Under the Bridge. Poem 3. New Long Version.

Movement and silence
Frozen in time,
The mountain has caste no shadow.

There are no shadows in this picture.
The sky, a white and blue mirror
Reflecting nothing.

The water absorbing white and indigo
Is brother and sister to the serene sky
That lacks both sun and moon.

Merchants crossing the bow shaped bridge
Were sketched for no apparent reason
Except to make the bridge seem real,

More real than the inkling of a dream
Fixed forever on wood and paper.

I turn the calendar to the wall.
I can no longer look at this picture.


Trevor John Karsavin Potter.
May 8th. - 17th. 2018.

Trevor J Potter's Art: Homage to Karole Armitage.

Trevor J Potter's Art: Homage to Karole Armitage.: Blonde dancer Express with living sculpture A clarity sublime More cogent than simple messages Sprayed on concrete balustrades Of cram...