David Selzer is a writer of poetry, prose fiction, screenplays and stage plays. He embraces digital platforms to share his work of more than fifty years… READ MORE


  • AFTER THE PANTOMIME

    When all of the evils are back in their box,

    and those who can have been paired in marriage –

    to an ovation from an audience

    of boy scouts, elderly innocents,

    and coach parties from Rhyl and Wallasey –

    we emerge into Theatr Clwyd’s bar.

    We watch, in awe, through the long glass window,

    a vestigial sunset above Moel Famau –

    variegated layers of coral

    beneath a looming indigo bank of cloud.

    Below – in the darkening river valley

    of ribbons of homes, old mine shafts, quarries,

    used car dealerships, and the Alyn’s waters

    out of sight over glacial stones –

    a billow of smoke, snaking round houses

    at the edge of Mold and onto the hillside,

    is rising white as steam.

     

     

     


    5 responses to “AFTER THE PANTOMIME”


    1. Mary Clark Avatar

      Does ‘wow’ count as a comment? From your poems I get a sense of the many-hued moody place that is Great Britain. I love the emergence from man’s theater into the real world’s theater and what it means that we have this box inside us we have to explore.

      1. David Selzer Avatar

        Yes, ‘wow’ counts, Mary! Thank you! As always, your comment reminds me what inspired me to write the piece in the first place.

        ‘…many-hued, moody place…’ That’s GB. I’m going to use that phrase at some point, if I may.

    2. Jeff T Avatar
      Jeff T

      Another lovely evocative poem, David. Similarly at the Buxton Opera house (a splendid Victorian theatre) with my son’s bemused Galician girlfriend. No coral light though. Just high-Derbyshire swirling drizzle and a black Cat and Fiddle road….. ‘oh no it wasn’t’… ‘oh yes it was. I was driving and you all fell asleep’. Axe Edge Moor looking particularly forbidding, their faces illuminated by the green dashboard Northern Lights.

    3. Alan Horne Avatar
      Alan Horne

      Love the ominous cloud of smoke, David.

    4. Ashen Avatar

      A dear place, I guess, lovingly evoked with melodic words:

      ‘… ribbons of homes, old mine shafts, quarries,

      … a billow of smoke, snaking round houses…’

      Best things for the coming year!

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